Sasha’s POV
Weeks bleed into months. Time stops mattering. We don’t give it a name. No “girlfriend,” no “boyfriend,” no awkward talks about what this is or where it’s going. We just keep crashing into each other like we’re the only two people who know how to breathe.
Some nights are slow. Lazy. He lies on his back in the middle of his messy bed, sheets already kicked to the floor. I climb on top, straddle his hips, guide his thick c**k to my entrance and sink down inch by inch. The stretch is still perfect every time—full, heavy, exactly what my body craves. My hips roll in slow circles first, then longer strokes, breasts bouncing with every rise and fall. His big hands grip my ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, spreading me wider, guiding me deeper until he’s buried so far I fee
