I pushed.
The head of my cock pressed against her entrance. The resistance was immediate — her pussy was virgin-tight, the walls clenching, the entrance barely yielding. I could feel every detail — the soft, slick texture of her inner lips, the heat radiating from her core, the rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat through the flesh. Her body trembled. Her fingers dug deeper into my shoulders.
She was seated — hips tilted back, her weight on her palms, her legs spread wide. The position gave me a clear view of everything — her face, her breasts, her belly, her pussy. The ink notation covered her skin, the formula spiraling across her body like a living spell.
I pushed deeper. The head squeezed in. The entrance stretched — slowly, painfully — the lips pulling taut around my girth. She cried out. Her head fell back. Her hands gripped my shoulders so hard that her nails broke skin.
"Ah — it hurts — sir — it's too big—"
