Kiana explored with her fingers, slow and deliberate.
Her touch traced the fabric, roaming until she fully outlined the shape of Liend's sac beneath it. A smile tugged at her lips.
She eased her hand lower, slipping beneath, until her palm cupped the entire sack—warm, full, sensitive to every kneading motion of her fingers.
Liend lay beneath her, jaw clenched tight, eyes squeezed shut. The veins along his neck stood out, pulsing hard, as if his body was begging for release even while he fought to hold it back.
Kiana kept grinding—slow, steady—her hand rolling his balls with the gentlest care, fingers coaxing him toward the edge one slow stroke at a time.
Liend's breath hitched with every inhale, his body betraying him. Heat pooled around him, radiating from his skin to the floor beneath. His fists clenched tight—arms twitching, as if trying to retreat.
Above him, Kiana sat with a serene smile, fingers still kneading him with measured care.
A mischievous grin curled onto her lips, like she was watching something too precious to rush.
"Aww," she mouthed, voice soft, teasing—her fingers gently rolling over his balls, even as the veins beneath screamed from the pressure.
"Trying to fight back against mommy? A little rebellion?" Kiana murmured, fingers gliding along the tense rise of his neck—tracing the bulging muscles and the throbbing veins beneath. Her touch was slow, almost affectionate, as she looked down at her son the way a parent might: amused, understanding… and utterly in control.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her smile deepening. "Mommy likes that side of you too."
"Ugh…" Liend only grunted under his breath, his jaw clenched, body trembling. His cock had been locked at its limit for minutes now—so tight, so unbearably close.
And yet, he held on.
Each grunt, each strained breath, was all he could offer—to show he was still resisting, still trying not to give in… not yet.
Kiana smiled down at him, calm and composed, a slow exhale slipping from her lips—her breath thick and warm, condensing in the air between them.
"You think," she murmured, leaning in until her mouth hovered just above his ear, "you can hold back on Mommy?"
Her hips pressed tighter, grinding down with deliberate force—pinning his cock beneath the fabric, squeezing it between them.
"Mommy hasn't even started yet," she whispered, her breath washing over his ear in a wave of heat.
Then, without warning, she let the full weight of her hips drop—crushing down against his trapped length, as if daring him.
"Let me show you..." she hissed, eyes glinting with dangerous intent beneath the morning light filtering through the glass. Her lips curved as she mouthed, "what happens when Mommy really wants to get one out."
She began with a familiar sway of her hips—slow, teasing, brushing over Liend's cock through the fabric—just enough to steal his breath before he could draw it back in.
Rustle~ rustle~
The motion shifted.
Suddenly, Kiana's hips crashed down with fervor—faster, harder—grinding with a force that squeezed him mercilessly, every movement deliberate, almost reverent in its intensity.
Her hips moved—tight and hard—sliding against his swollen flesh, veins bulging with strain. Above him, she remained still, her upper body composed, serene—only her hips moving in a steady, merciless rhythm.
Liend gasped, unable to take it. No breath. No air. Just pressure.
Kiana sighed softly, exhaling as she eased back—sitting upright atop his pelvis, spine straight, regal. Her weight stayed firmly pressed down, her hips continuing their work with practiced control—every motion precise, every ounce of pressure perfectly measured.
Beneath her, Liend writhed—breathless, powerless, utterly undone.
Kiana looked down at Liend with a soft, satisfactory smile as she reached for his hands—clutching them gently from the sides, lifting them off the floor. She guided them to her waist, placing each one firmly at her sides.
A hiss slipped through her breath as she let go, releasing his hands—yet they remained, resting on her hips, trembling slightly.
Then she leaned in, closer, lips brushing near his ear—her voice barely a whisper, wrapped in heat.
Her breath came warm and thick, falling against his skin like something sacred—intimate and unspoken—as she mouthed into the space between them, suspended in the cold air and their shared warmth:
"Now guide Mommy's rhythm."