She was no longer trying to maintain any semblance of control. She was a vessel of pure sensation, her body bucking and twitching under his relentless assault.
Every time he slammed into her, her entire frame shuddered, her tits bouncing violently in his iron grip. His hands crushed her breasts while his cock pulverized her asshole, creating a sensory overload so profound it felt like her brain was melting.
Rex was a man possessed. He was a machine of pure, unbridled lust, and he was systematically destroying the last vestiges of Elizabeth's composure.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
He wasn't being gentle; he was being a conqueror. He was driving into her with a singular, brutal purpose: to leave her completely undone, to make sure that every time she thought of him, she felt the phantom ache of his cock stretching her wide and the memory of his hands crushing her breasts as he claimed her most private, most vulnerable self.
