“I can’t take any more. It’s too much,” I manage to say.
“s**t. I'm not even halfway in, Katy,” he says. He slides his hand down between my legs. His fingers find my c**t, and he uses my own wetness to rub the ache away.
“I can’t take it,” I whisper.
“We’re going to make it fit.”
“How?” I moan as he pushes forward a tiny bit more, his length feeling like he’s about to rip me apart. “Planning to cut off three inches?”
He chuckles. "No chance, baby. You need every damn inch."
He pulls out just a fraction, enough to ease the extreme pressure, then immediately pushes back in, not as far this time, but slowly, focusing on that intense stretch.
"We do this slow," he commands, his voice dropping an octave as his hips start rocking just the tiniest bit. He keeps his hand firmly rubbing my
