roxy has to remind herself to inhale. each deep, hard thrust from ichiro pushes her closer to a complete mental meltdown. each muscle is trembling, tense and wanting, and roxy can't stop her hands from grasping his so tightly that she feels she might break both sets. her body is overhot, the sweat sheen on her skin doing nothing to cool her off, even as she feels a bead or three drip down from beneath her breasts. the slow movements of ichiro are torturous. every time he pulls out to thrust back in roxy wants to just pin him down and buck her hips faster. she wants that ending; it's been long enough. they've dragged this out for as long as they can and yet roxy can't undo her fingers from the knots they've found themselves in. if she could just — if they could — it doesn't matter because she can't think.
it feels like they've only just got to this part but they're already rushing to an end neither of them can avoid. it's inevitable, it was coming the moment roxy put her mouth on ichiro's length.
this is better than she had expected. her hair is a damp mop against her brow and a shaken breath escapes as roxy's mouth finally seeks out ichiro's. lips crash together, breath mingling as roxy finally finds the wherewithal to lead one of ichiro's hands down between her thighs again. yet even that is too much for her addled brain, and as soon as their hands pass over her bellybutton, roxy's body pulls tight like a spring and breaks, a loud cry echoing in the empty room around them, wanting anyone listening in to know. ]
Fuck, [ her volume crashes just as fast, and roxy swallows hard to wet her throat. ] Fuck, fuck... Fuck, you feel so good. Oh, god, Ichiro.
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roxy has to remind herself to inhale. each deep, hard thrust from ichiro pushes her closer to a complete mental meltdown. each muscle is trembling, tense and wanting, and roxy can't stop her hands from grasping his so tightly that she feels she might break both sets. her body is overhot, the sweat sheen on her skin doing nothing to cool her off, even as she feels a bead or three drip down from beneath her breasts. the slow movements of ichiro are torturous. every time he pulls out to thrust back in roxy wants to just pin him down and buck her hips faster. she wants that ending; it's been long enough. they've dragged this out for as long as they can and yet roxy can't undo her fingers from the knots they've found themselves in. if she could just — if they could — it doesn't matter because she can't think.
it feels like they've only just got to this part but they're already rushing to an end neither of them can avoid. it's inevitable, it was coming the moment roxy put her mouth on ichiro's length.
this is better than she had expected. her hair is a damp mop against her brow and a shaken breath escapes as roxy's mouth finally seeks out ichiro's. lips crash together, breath mingling as roxy finally finds the wherewithal to lead one of ichiro's hands down between her thighs again. yet even that is too much for her addled brain, and as soon as their hands pass over her bellybutton, roxy's body pulls tight like a spring and breaks, a loud cry echoing in the empty room around them, wanting anyone listening in to know. ]
Fuck, [ her volume crashes just as fast, and roxy swallows hard to wet her throat. ] Fuck, fuck... Fuck, you feel so good. Oh, god, Ichiro.