This angle was different. From behind, his cock found the front wall of her canal instead of the back, the curved pressure landing against the inner surface she had never known existed, the sensation entirely unlike the first angle and entirely unlike anything a virgin body could have anticipated.
Her hips twitched.
Against the temporal field. Against the suspension. Her hips 'moved' — not much, one centimeter of involuntary motion, the body's response overriding the magic in the only direction it was capable of choosing. Not away. Forward. Her hips pushed backward against his cock one small, treacherous centimeter.
He felt it.
He smiled.
PAH PAH PAAH—
"Mmhh~!! Unngh— NNGHHH~!!"
He fucked her harder.
The sounds coming from her accumulated — each compressed, muffled, small in their individual production but filling the stopped afternoon as they layered over each other, the rhythm of his hips producing a continuous string of broken wet sounds from her half-open lips.
