The sound that left her was not a moan.
It was the sound of something fundamental being revised.
He didn't move.
He lay over her. His arms under her back, holding her. His cock buried to the base inside her, the balls pressing against the soft cleft of her ass, his pubic bone against her hair.
He sighed.
The long, slow, 'satisfied' exhale of a man who has just arrived somewhere he wanted to be.
"Haah.... There..."
His voice.
Low. Warm. Right beside her ear.
She was making sounds she could not identify from the inside — the continuous, broken, streaming sounds of a woman whose body is doing something to her and is not asking permission.
Her pussy.
