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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8

Sarah's gaze burned into his, raw and demanding. Her hand was a vice around the base of his cock, still slick from her mouth, pulling him insistently towards the soaked fabric stretched taut over her mound. The air reeked of sweat, sex, and the sharp tang of her arousal soaking the shorts. Mark flinched, tried to pull back, his hips instinctively recoiling even as his cock, tragically responsive, throbbed hot and heavy in her grip.

"Sarah... no," he choked out, voice rough. "We can't. It's... too much. You saw... fuck, it won't fit." Panic laced his words. The reality of his size, a source of years of shame, crashed back in. Her wrecked throat, the obscene gagging, the sheer violence of what just happened – it screamed danger. "You'll... rip."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Sarah's tear-streaked face, quickly smoothed into a mask of calculated need. She released his cock, letting the thick weight thump against his thigh. Instead, she leaned forward, her movements deliberate, predatory. The damp, thin cotton of her sleep shirt clung to the heavy swell of her breasts. She caught his hesitant gaze trapped there, on the deep shadow of her cleavage, the hard points of her nipples pressing against the fabric.

"Mark," she breathed, her voice still shredded but laced with a honeyed insistence that felt utterly alien. She placed a hand on his chest, not pushing, but anchoring him. Her other hand slid slowly, deliberately, up the inside of her own thigh, fingers tracing the soaked seam of her shorts. A low moan escaped her lips, theatrical but charged with the very real thrumming ache between her legs. "Look at me. Look how fucking wet I am for you. For this." Her fingers dipped beneath the elastic waistband, just for a second, emerging glistening. She held them up, letting him see the slick evidence before slowly, deliberately, sucking them clean. Her eyes locked onto his, challenging, hungry. "All because of you. Because of this fucking monster you've got."

Mark stared, mesmerized and horrified. The sight of her tasting herself, the sheer brazenness of it, warred with the memory of her choking. His cock pulsed again, betraying him.

"It hurts," she whispered, shifting closer on her knees, her breasts brushing against his arm. "This ache... deep inside. It's killing me, Mark. Ever since I saw you... saw how fucking massive you are." Her hand slid back down to grip him again, her thumb rubbing the swollen, leaking head. He hissed. "I just need... just to feel it, you know? Just the tip. Just to see... to know what it feels like to have something that real touching me there. Just for a second." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. Her breath was hot, carrying the faint, bitter memory of his own release. "You owe me that much, don't you? After you made me suck you dry? After you made me scream?"

The words twisted the knife. The power he'd felt moments ago, holding her head, forcing release down her throat, curdled into guilt. Owe her. The girl who'd mocked him for years, now kneeling in his cum, wrecked and begging. Her logic was insane, manipulative, but the heat radiating from her, the desperation in her eyes alongside the calculation, short-circuited his resistance. "Just... just the tip?" he mumbled, the words tasting like ash. His own treacherous body screamed yes.

"Just the tip," she echoed, the promise smooth as poison. "You push it in, nice and slow. Just so I can feel how fucking big it is. That's all. I just need to feel it." Her fingers abandoned his cock to urgently yank at the sides of her soaked shorts. The damp fabric resisted for a second, then ripped at the seam with a sharp tearing sound. She shoved them down her thighs in one frantic motion, kicking them off onto the already ruined carpet.

She knelt before him, utterly exposed. Her pussy glistened, swollen lips puffy and flushed, dark curls slicked down. Her thighs trembled, the muscles tight with anticipation. The scent of her, musky and primal, flooded the small room, mingling with the existing miasma. She spread her knees wider, bracing her hands behind her on the carpet, arching her back to present herself. "See?" she panted, her voice losing the honey, regaining its raw edge. "So ready. So fucking wet for you. Just put it there. Just the head. Show me."

Mark's breath came in short, sharp gasps. His mind screamed warnings he couldn't hear over the roar of blood in his ears and the sight of her glistening cunt inches from his hardness. He shuffled forward on his knees, the movement awkward, clumsy. His trembling hand found his cock, guiding the bulbous, weeping head towards her entrance. It looked obscene – the sheer size of him poised against her tight opening. He hesitated, the ridge of his glans just barely brushing her slick folds. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, her hips jerking forward minutely.

"Fuck... Mark... now," she moaned, impatience shredding the last vestiges of her act. Her hand darted down, fingers splaying her lower lips wide open. "Put it in. Just the tip! Do it!"

He pushed. Gently. Tentatively.

The resistance was immediate, shocking. Her body clamped down, a fierce, muscular refusal despite the drenching wetness. He felt the incredible tightness, the hot, velvety grip fighting the intrusion. "Sarah..." he started, pulling back slightly.

"NO!" she practically shrieked, her head snapping up, eyes wild. "Don't you fucking stop! Push! Fucking push, you pussy! Are you scared? Can't even give me just the fucking tip?" The derision was back, laced with frantic need. It stung, hitting the raw nerve of his insecurity, the years of feeling inadequate. Her reverse psychology, sharp as a blade, found its mark.

Fueled by a sudden surge of anger and wounded pride, Mark gritted his teeth. He grabbed his cock firmly at the base, steadying it. He locked eyes with her, seeing not just lust now, but a challenge, a dare. "Fine," he growled, the sound unfamiliar and rough. "You want the fucking tip?"

He thrust his hips forward, not gently, not tentatively. Hard.

The thick, mushroomed crown of his cock slammed past her tight outer lips, forcing its way into the impossibly snug entrance with a single, brutal shove.

Sarah's spine arched violently, her head thrown back, mouth stretched wide in a silent scream that ripped into sound a second later – a raw, guttural wail that tore from the depths of her being. "AAAAAGGGHHH! FUUUUUCK! OHGOD!"

Her inner muscles clamped down like a vise, a spastic convulsion of pure shock and overwhelming sensation. The stretch was agonizing. Unimaginable. It felt less like penetration and more like being split open. She could feel every ridge, every throbbing vein of the massive head as it lodged itself inside her, stretching her entrance obscenely wide. It wasn't just the tip; the sheer girth meant he was buried beyond the crown, a significant, brutal intrusion. Her fingers clawed at the carpet, her thighs shook violently.

Mark froze, stunned by the sheer tightness, the heat, the convulsive pressure crushing his sensitive glans, by the primal scream she'd unleashed. "Jesus Christ..." he breathed, staring down at where they were joined. Her pussy lips were stretched thin, hugging the thick base of his cock-head, flushed deep red. "Are you...?"

Before he could finish, before he could think about pulling out, Sarah's body betrayed her again. The brutal stretch, the searing fullness, the sheer overwhelming presence of him – it detonated the tension coiling inside her. A second orgasm, even more violent than the throat-induced ones, erupted. Not a wave, but a tsunami.

Her back bowed impossibly, her entire body seizing. A shattered scream, half-pain, half-obliterating ecstasy, ripped from her. Her cunt pulsed and clenched around the invading thickness in fierce, rapid spasms. And she squirted. Not a trickle, but a hot, gushing flood of fluid that erupted around Mark's buried cock, soaking his balls, his thighs, splattering onto the carpet beneath them with a shocking wet sound. She convulsed, shaking uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back, lost in the brutal, exquisite agony of being stretched and filled and owned by that impossible tip. Her fingernails tore at the carpet fibers, her heels digging in as her hips bucked erratically against his still-embedded hardness.

Mark gasped, feeling the hot gush, the relentless milking pressure on just the head of his cock. It was too much. The sight, the feel, the power – it swamped the last remnants of his control. His hips jerked forward instinctively, seeking more of that impossible, crushing heat, burying himself another fraction deeper into her convulsing, soaking depths. Sarah shrieked again, a sound of pure, shattered sensation. "NO! TOO MUCH! FUCK! MAAAAAARK!"

She was trembling, drenched, impaled only partially, but utterly wrecked. Her pussy still fluttered wildly around the thick intrusion, wringing sensation from him with each pulse. Mark hovered on the edge, suspended between the agony of holding still and the primal urge to slam home. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her heaving stomach. He looked down at her tear-streaked face, her wide, glazed eyes staring up at him in shock and mindless need. He hadn't even gotten properly inside her yet. And she was already coming apart. The sheer, terrifying power of it vibrated through him, mingling fear with a dark, burgeoning lust. The tip was in. Her body was his. And it was begging for more, even as it screamed. He didn't move. He couldn't. Trapped in the burning threshold, feeling her clench and gush around him, the question hung thick and heavy in the sex-drenched air: Could either of them survive him going deeper?

The wet heat radiating from Sarah's cunt felt like a forge, searing Mark where he was barely lodged inside her. Her inner walls, still fluttering violently from her explosive climax, clenched down on the massive head of his cock in rhythmic, agonizing spasms. Each pulse threatened to pull him deeper into that impossible tightness. Sweat stung his eyes, mingling with the scent of her arousal and his own fear.

"Fucking… move," Sarah gasped, her voice a shattered rasp. Tears tracked through the mess on her cheeks, but her eyes, when they found his, burned with a terrifying mix of pain and utter, desperate need. Her hips jerked upward, a weak, involuntary attempt to force more of him inside. The movement sent a jolt of white-hot friction through his cock. "Don't… stop…"

Mark flinched, his fingers digging into the carpet. "You're… fuck, Sarah, you're tearing…" He could see it – the stretched, reddened ring of her entrance strained obscenely around his girth, glistening with her juices and the aftermath of her last gush. Pushing further felt like madness. Like violation. His own body screamed for release, trapped and throbbing at her threshold.

She reached down, her fingers slick, and grabbed his wrist. Not pulling him away, but anchoring him. Guiding his hand to where her clit jutted, swollen and stiff, just above their agonizingly shallow connection. "Feel that?" she panted, grinding her hips minutely, grinding her sensitive nub against the base of his cock where it met her skin. "Fucking destroyed. Punished. Because of you." Her voice cracked. "Now ruin me properly, Mark. Don't be a fucking tease."

The raw command, twisted with pleading and the ghost of her old contempt, snapped something inside him. Ruin me. The words echoed the years of her mockery, transforming them into a dark, irresistible invitation. He saw the challenge in her tear-filled eyes – the dare he'd always failed before. Not anymore.

"Fine," Mark snarled, the word rough and unfamiliar. He braced his free hand beside her head, pinning her trembling arm to the carpet. His other hand, still guided by hers, pressed hard against her clit. He locked his gaze onto hers. "You asked for it."

He didn't ease in. He didn't try to be gentle. Muscles coiled in his back and thighs, he drove his hips forward with all his weight, a single, brutal thrust designed to conquer.

The thick, veined shaft tore past her strained entrance with a sickening, wet pop. Sarah's entire body went rigid, her scream a choked, airless rasp as her eyes rolled back. Her cunt stretched impossibly wide, engulfing him to the root in one brutal invasion. It felt like splitting timber, a searing, ripping pressure that obliterated thought.

He was in. Fully sheathed. Buried to the hilt in the tightest, hottest, most agonizingly exquisite vice imaginable. Her inner walls convulsed around him, a desperate, rhythmic clenching that felt like being milked by a fist of fire. The sheer, impossible fullness stole her breath, her mouth gaping soundlessly. Her fingernails carved half-moons into his forearm where he pinned her.

Mark groaned, a guttural sound torn from deep in his chest. The pressure was insane. Unbearable. And utterly addictive. He could feel every ridge of her passage gripping him, every flutter, every throb of her pulse against his cock buried deep in her core. He stayed there, impaling her completely, letting her body scream its shock around his invading girth. Sweat dripped from his chin onto her heaving stomach.

"Fuck… ohgod… it's… ripping," Sarah finally gasped, her voice shattered. Her hips twitched, a helpless spasm. "So… fucking… full." The words were pure agony, yet her cunt pulsed again, a hot gush of fresh arousal slicking their joined flesh. Her eyes, wide and dazed, found his. Not defiance, not mockery. Raw, animal panic, laced with a terrifying hunger. "More," she breathed, the word barely audible. "Fucking… move it…"

Her demand hung thick in the reeking air. Mark felt the tremors running through her pinned body, felt the crushing, wet heat of her taking every inch. He pulled back, just a fraction. The friction was brutal, dragging against her oversensitized walls. Sarah whimpered, a sound of pure, desperate sensation. He pushed back in, a slow, grinding slide that forced another choked gasp from her throat, her inner muscles clamping down like a vise as he bottomed out again. Her legs locked around his hips, heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper still, demanding he obliterate the last shred of her control. She demanded more.

Sarah's choked command hung in the sweat-heavy air, her nails drawing blood from his forearm. More. The word vibrated through the slick heat where they were fused. Her cunt convulsed around his buried length, a desperate, rhythmic clenching that threatened to suck him deeper still. Mark stared down, transfixed by the obscene stretch of her puffy lips around his thick root, the flushed, glistening skin protesting the invasion.

Years of her sneering dismissal echoed in that single, breathless syllable. More. Mocking him in hallways, laughing with his sister about the 'awkward little brother'. Humiliation curdled into a dark, seething power. This trembling, broken thing beneath him, split open on his cock, was the girl who'd made him feel worthless. Her demand wasn't a plea; it was a trigger.

He ripped his cock out with a brutal, wet drag. Sarah screamed, her body arching off the carpet, a gush of fluid soaking the already ruined sheets beneath her hips. Her eyes flew open, wild with shock and a terrifying, undeniable hunger. Before she could gasp, before her body could even register the searing emptiness, Mark braced himself.

He drove forward. Not a thrust. A ram.

His hips pistoned, channeling every ounce of coiled frustration, every sting of her past barbs, into one devastating shove. He aimed to bury himself to the balls, to crush her under the weight of what she'd mocked.

HE SHOVES IT ALL IN.

The thick, veined shaft slammed home with shocking force, tearing past her strained entrance with a sickening, meaty schluck. Sarah's entire being seemed to implode. Her scream died instantly, choked off as her lungs seized. Her spine bowed impossibly, lifting her shoulders and head off the carpet, only the anchor of his cock buried deep in her core holding her down. Her mouth gaped in a silent, agonized wail, eyes wide and unseeing, pupils blown black with shock.

The sensation was beyond pain, beyond pleasure – a cataclysm of sheer, overwhelming fullness. He was impossibly deep, the heavy base of his cock grinding against her cervix, stretching her inner walls to a burning, tearing point she hadn't known existed. She felt every ridge, every pulsing vein, every throb of his heartbeat hammering against her deepest, most vulnerable flesh. It felt like being speared, impaled, her insides rearranged around his massive girth. Her fingernails scraped frantically over the carpet, seeking purchase that wasn't there. A guttural, animalistic groan finally escaped her locked throat, raw and broken. "Ggguh... fuck... ripping..."

Mark grunted, a harsh sound ripped from his chest. The pressure was insane, a crushing vice that threatened to snap him in half. Her cunt was furnace-hot, impossibly tight, gripping him like a silken fist forged in fire. He could feel the frantic flutter of her inner muscles, the desperate clenching trying to expel the impossible invader, yet only succeeding in milking him, dragging him deeper. Sweat stung his eyes, dripping onto her heaving stomach, mingling with the sticky wetness coating both their thighs. He held himself utterly still, buried to the hilt, letting the sheer, brutal reality of his invasion resonate through her trembling frame. The power was dizzying, intoxicating. This broken, gasping creature was Sarah, the untouchable princess, utterly conquered, her body screaming around his cock. He flexed his hips minutely, grinding his pubic bone hard against her swollen clit.

Sarah shrieked, a high-pitched, fractured sound. The grinding pressure on her oversensitive nub, combined with the soul-deep impalement, detonated another orgasm. It wasn't pleasure; it was a seizure. Her body convulsed violently, back arching even more sharply, limbs thrashing. Her cunt spasmed in frantic, erratic pulses, clenching down on his shaft like a vise trying to crush stone. Hot fluid gushed out around their joining point, soaking his balls and thighs, adding to the swampy mess beneath them. "Nnngh! GOD! STOP! DON'T STOP!" she babbled incoherently, tears streaming anew. Her hands flew to his hips, not pushing him away, but clawing at him, pulling him impossibly deeper as her hips bucked wildly against the brutal invasion. The exquisite agony of being stretched beyond her limits warred with the terrifying need for more friction, more force, more of the devastating fullness tearing her apart. Her eyes, wild and unfocused, locked onto his, pleading and defiant all at once. She was drenched, trembling, utterly impaled, and her body was already demanding he move that monstrous cock inside her ruined, clutching heat.

Sarah's trembling body arched beneath him, a taut bowstring vibrating with aftershocks. Her slick cunt pulsed and clenched around his buried cock with terrifying strength, a hot, wet fist trying to milk him dry even as she gasped for air. The sheer, obscene tightness threatened to snap him apart. Sweat plastered strands of dark hair to her flushed temples, her eyes wide and unfocused, lost in the brutal aftermath of the impalement. Her ragged breaths hitched, punctuated by low, involuntary whimpers.

Mark groaned, the sound thick and guttural. Holding himself utterly still felt like balancing on a razor's edge. The pressure was immense, a crushing heat threatening to shatter both control and bone. His gaze, locked on her face, drifted downward, drawn irresistibly to the heaving swell of her chest beneath the damp, thin cotton shirt. The fabric clung obscenely, plastered to the massive curves, outlining the hard peaks of her nipples. A primal need, different from the frantic urge to fuck but just as overwhelming, surged through him. He'd wanted this, dreamed of it, for years – her breasts, perfect, forbidden, always just out of reach.

He pulled back, just an inch, a slow, deliberate slide that dragged a broken moan from Sarah's throat. Her inner muscles clamped down fiercely, trying to hold him inside. Her fingers scrabbled weakly against his hips. "Don't... fuck... pull out..." she gasped, her voice shredded.

Ignoring her, driven by a hunger deeper than reason, Mark yanked her damp shirt up, bunching it messily under her chin. The sight punched the air from his lungs. Her breasts spilled free, massive, heavy globes crowned with large, dusky areolas and stiff, pebbled nipples. They were perfection made flesh – full, impossibly soft-looking, the skin flawless ivory. A faint, intoxicating scent rose from them, musky with her sweat and arousal, layered with the clean, sweet smell of her skin. It flooded his senses, dizzying. Fuck, they're real.

He was hypnotized. The brutal reality of being buried inside her faded momentarily, replaced by pure, awestruck lust. His hands, shaking slightly, moved of their own accord, covering the immense softness. The feel was beyond anything he'd imagined – warm, yielding silk over firm flesh, impossibly heavy in his palms. He squeezed, gently at first, then harder, kneading the pliant mounds. The softness was hypnotic, the sheer scale of them overwhelming. He lowered his head, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent directly from the valley between them. So good. So fucking perfect. He nuzzled the soft skin, his lips brushing a hard nipple.

The distraction was all Sarah needed. While Mark was lost, drowning in the feel and scent of her tits, her body coiled. Pain and shock had receded, replaced by the familiar, predatory drive to dominate. She saw his vulnerability, the awe in his eyes as he worshipped her chest. A sharp, predatory grin twisted her swollen lips.

She bucked her hips violently upward, slamming herself back onto his cock with shocking force. "FUCK!" Mark yelled, the sudden, brutal impalement tearing him from his reverie. Pain lanced through him as her tight walls clamped down. Before he could react, her legs locked like steel bands around his waist, heels digging into his ass. Her hands shot out, grabbing his wrists and wrenching them roughly away from her breasts, pinning them beside his head against the carpet. Her strength, fueled by adrenaline and feral need, surprised him.

"My turn, you little fucker," she growled, her voice thick with dominance and raw lust. She started to ride him, not with grace, but with savage, piston-like thrusts. She slammed herself down onto his full length repeatedly, her hips pistoning, using the leverage of her legs to drive him impossibly deep with each descent. The wet, slapping sounds of flesh on flesh filled the room. "Take it! Take my fucking cunt!" she snarled, her head thrown back, tendons standing out in her neck.

The brutal rhythm tore involuntary sounds from her – sharp mewls of intense sensation, guttural growls of exertion and ownership. Her cunt was a blistering, sucking vice around him, squeezing rhythmically. "Fuck yes! God, your cock! So fucking huge! Feel it ripping me!" she gasped, her words tumbling out between desperate breaths. Her eyes, glazed but fiercely bright, locked onto his. "Best fucking dick I've ever had! Makes that loser Chad feel like a fucking toothpick! FUCK!" Another brutal slam downward. "Just... fuck... don't get used to it! This... ah!... this is pity, you hear me?!" Her voice hitched as her body seized, another orgasm tearing through her, making her inner walls clamp down like a vise. "Taking... pity... on the pathetic little brother! Nnngh! One time! Just one fucking time!" She pounded down harder, the bedframe groaning in protest. "So good... so fucking deep... ruin me! But don't... don't you dare think it means anything!" Her words were a frantic contradiction – desperate compliments wrapped in cruel dismissal, spat out between moans and the relentless slap of her body driving onto his. She rode him like a woman possessed, lost in the violent rhythm, her massive breasts bouncing heavily with each jarring thrust, sweat gleaming on her skin as she used him, claimed him, and came apart over and over on the cock she simultaneously worshipped and pretended to scorn. Her control was absolute, brittle, and already fraying under the relentless assault of her own climaxes.

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