Nash's vision blurred at the edges, white sparks popping behind his eyelids with every brutal clap of Jaz's hips.
He was in heaven, no, deeper than heaven, buried inside a furnace of wet, clenching heat that milked him like it wanted to wring his soul out through his cock.
But god, she was going too hard...
His hips were jelly, thighs trembling, abs burning like he'd just run ten full-court sprints back-to-back.
Every time he tried to thrust up to meet her, his muscles hurt and folded.
He'd already cum so many times, five, no, seven? He'd lost count.
Thick, endless ropes that should have left him dry, but his passives made his balls churning out more, and while he could, it was painful now, like they were being squeezed in a vice.
Each new pulse felt thinner, hotter, almost burning as it shot into her womb and immediately got forced back out in messy white rivers that soaked his crotch, the broken bench, the tile.
And she still didn't slow down.
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
