She stopped fighting.
Her hands slid from his chest to his forearms, and gripped.
He lined himself up against her entrance — her soaked, swollen, completely ruined pussy that had taken him more times than she had the capacity to count anymore — and pressed inward.
The angle was 'different.'
Deeper. Catastrophically deeper, the head of him dragging against a wall inside her that sent a full-body shudder rippling outward from her core to the tips of her chained, aching nipples.
"'Hnnngh'—!"
Her thighs trembled in his grip.
Her legs wrapped around his waist — not commanded, not requested, not even fully conscious — her thick calves crossing over each other at the small of his back, locking, 'pulling.'
PAH.
"'Ohhh'—!"
PAH. PAH.
"A-Ahh... 'nghh'... it's — that angle — 'ohh'—"
PAH. PAH. PAH.
"'Hngh~! Aahnn~!! MMPH~~!!'"
He was not gentle.
