He lifted her.
Both hands on her wide hips, his cock staying buried, and simply stood with her — lifted the seamstress of the lower mountain village off the silk and held her in his lap at the bed's center, her enormous tits against his chest, her thick legs dangling on either side of his thighs, the full weight of her pressed down onto his cock by gravity.
She made a sound that was not a word.
"NNNGH~!!"
He began to move her.
Not with the driving force of the prone position — with his hands on her hips, lifting and dropping, her full body raised and lowered onto his cock in long, grinding arcs that used every inch of the withdrawal and every inch of the return, her soft belly dome tracking up and down with the movement, her tits pressing against his face as he moved her.
PAH! PAH!
"AAANGHH~!! I AM BOUNCING~!! ANCESTOR I AM BOUNCING ON YOUR JADE PILLAR~!! MY LEGS CANNOT~!! MY THIGHS CANNOT GRIP~!!"
"They do not need to grip," he said. "I have you."
