Page 41 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

She cries out, body rocking forward. I grip her hips, pull her back onto me, then start fucking her, rough, relentless, skin slapping against skin. I spank her ass once, then again when she moans louder.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Please—”

I give it to her—pounding into her, fingers digging into her hips, watching her take every inch like she was made for me.

Her fingers move faster on her clit. Her moans turn into broken cries. I feel her start to flutter again, walls squeezing me like a vise.

She comes hard, squirting all over my cock in hot, pulsing waves. The sight of it, the feel of it, her release soaking my shaft, dripping down my balls, spraying across my thighs, rips a guttural groan from my chest.

I fucking love it. Love how she loses every bit of control, how her body betrays her completely for me.

I slam in deeper, once, twice, chasing the last of her spasms, and more squirt sprays out, drenching us both. She’s shaking, whimpering, completely undone.

I pull out at the last second, fist my cock, and come hard across her perfect ass, thick ropes painting her skin, marking her. She collapses forward onto the bed, face pressed into the sheets, breathing ragged.

I drop down beside her, chest heaving, and immediately pull her into my arms. She curls against me. I brush damp hair off her face, tuck it behind her ear.

“What… what was that?” she whispers, breathless, dazed.

I smirk, thumb tracing her swollen bottom lip. “That was you squirting, solnyshko.”

She blinks up at me, eyes wide. “Yeah… I always heard about it, but I never thought I was capable of that.”

“You are,” I say, voice low and rough. “And it’s fucking sexy.”

She blushes deeper, glances down at the wet spot between us on the sheets. “I made a mess.”

“A beautiful mess,” I murmur.

I lean down to kiss her. When I pull back, I brush my nose against hers. “What do you want for dinner?”

She smiles sleepily. “I was just going to order pizza.”

I roll out of bed, reach for my trousers on the floor, and fish my phone from the pocket. “Toppings?”

“Pepperoni and mushroom for one,” she says, propping herself on an elbow. “And cheese with extra sauce for the other.”

I nod, already opening the delivery app. I place the order, then head to the kitchen. Open her fridge to get water, and I find it’s almost empty. A half carton of oat milk, some wilted lettuce, a lone yogurt, and a tube of ice cream.

My jaw tightened. She wasn’t eating properly. I made a mental note—that the next day I’d have groceries delivered.

I grab two bottles of water, twist the cap off one, and take a long swig, then carry the second back to her.

She’s still sprawled on the bed, looking satiated and well-fucked. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She takes the bottle with a“Thank you,” twisting the cap and sipping.

I disappear into her bathroom, wet a washcloth under warm water, and wring it out. When I return, she’s now lying on her stomach. I kneel on the mattress and nudge her thighs apart gently.

She giggles. “Aren’t you tired? I’m knackered.”

“No,” I say, voice low. “And no, I’m not about to fuck you again. Even though I want to.”

Her blush deepens, but she lets her legs fall open for me.

I bring the warm cloth between her thighs, wiping away the mess we made. She’s sensitive, twitching a little at the contact. I clean her inner thighs, the sticky evidence of my release on her ass.

She watched me the whole time, eyes soft, something tender flickering there that made my chest tighten.