I pushed again, a slow, steady surge that buried me halfway. Eleanor's back arched into a deep, beautiful curve, her breasts swaying with the movement. I reached around, my hands finding those heavy, soft mounds and squeezing them, my thumbs flicking over her stiff nipples. The double-sensation seemed to break the last of her tension, and I felt her internal muscles start to yield, wrapping around me like a velvet vice.
With one final, powerful thrust, I bottomed out. Eleanor let out a muffled scream into the glass, her breath fogging up the pane in a wide, frantic circle. I stayed there for a second, savoring the incredible, constricting heat. It was a different kind of pressure than her pussy—more intense, more urgent.
I began to move.
