He held her.
It felt warm and full, chest pressed to chest — her arms wrapped around his neck, his arms wrapped around her back, both of them breathing slowly together after something huge had just happened.
He was still inside her.
He stayed soft and settled, lodged deep in the warm interior of her pussy — not moving, not demanding anything, simply resting there with the easy presence of something that belonged right where it was. Her walls fluttered warmly and involuntarily, giving small rhythmic clenches around him, the kind of ongoing contractions a pussy makes after it has been worked so thoroughly and is still processing the whole event, still sending little waves of tightness along his length because those walls had discovered their new purpose and no one had told them to stop yet.
He felt every bit of it.
