As the time passed by, Sol didn't just feel hard, he felt like his very bones had turned into heated iron. Inside her, he could feel the frantic, rhythmic pulsing of her internal muscles…. a bruised, desperate clench that told him she was still hovering on the edge of a sensory collapse.
After some time, Sol pulled back until he was nearly out, the wet, suctioning sound of his withdrawal echoing in the quiet room, the head of his cock still hooked inside her swollen, pulsing labia, as if he were a plug holding back the tide of her nectar and his own cooling seed.
Before she could settle, he grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over onto her back, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He knelt between her knees, looking down at the beautiful, ruined mess he had made of her.
