Ethan
Elara’s moans grew louder, breathier, her hips rolling desperately against my hand. My fingers were buried deep inside her, curling relentlessly against that spongy spot while my thumb kept steady pressure on her swollen c**t. Her p***y was soaking wet, obscene sounds filling the candlelit room with every thrust of my fingers.
“Right there… don’t stop, baby,” she gasped, eyes half-lidded, breasts heaving. “You’re making me so f*****g wet… good boy. Keep looking at me. Watch what your fingers are doing to my pussy.”
I couldn’t look away. Her dark, slick folds stretched around my two fingers, juices dripping down my wrist and onto the velvet table. Her walls started fluttering, clenching tighter and tighter.
“I…I think you’re close,” I whispered shyly, my voice hoarse.
“Yes… f**k
