She tries to keep the noises that urge to spring forth buried, but the father down she slides on his massive cock, the harder it becomes to stay silent. She can't do it anymore -- if Daddy hears her, he can put on headphones or something to block it out. A whimper, shrill and soft and keening with both pain and pleasure, whispers into his ear. He moves her again, and again she whines, a little louder this time. The concept of being 'full' was teased when he pumped her belly full of cum a few hours ago -- but this is completely different. She understands it perfectly now. She can feel every inch of him as intimately as if he is a part of her, every pulse, every throb. It feels almost like he's rippling inside her, and somehow, she knows to squeeze.
Her brother groans loudly and pulls her tighter against his chest. He grinds her down on his cock, as finally, finally, she nestles in his lap again -- though it's quite different this time. His head presses against something deep inside her, his length pulsing against spots she didn't know she had but is now extremely aware of. It feels...fuck, it feels incredible.
"How does it feel?"
She stares into his emerald eyes, only somewhat visible beneath his lids, chest heaving as she pants from the intensity of it all. 'Good' is the only word she can think of, but it's not even close to right. She chooses to respond, not with words, but instead tightening her grip on his shoulders so she can lift herself up. Slowly, carefully, in case he slips out of her -- but she doesn't have to worry about that. She only manages halfway up his cock before the pleasure is too intense. Her legs tremble against his, weak with stimulation, so she lets herself go to slip all the way back down in a smooth motion. That was how she'd seen porn stars do it -- faster, harder, better.
Is that possible? It already feels amazing.
"More," she pleads past a moan, louder than she expected, far too desperate. But she doesn't care. She wants to feel him moving inside her. Already the coil of orgasm tightens deep in her core, already threatening to explode inside her, but she doesn't want to cum yet. Not yet. Not before he fucks her, good and proper, like a big brother should.
He presses his lips back to hers -- but this time, there is no slow exploration. This time, he plunders her. The kiss is frantic, hungry, impatient. He palms her plush ass and lifts her again off his cock, just to drive back into her with one smooth motion. After a pause to let her trembling pass, he does it again. And again. At first nothing but spaced out, deliberate, full thrusts that drive his cock home into her cunt. Each one results in a wet slap of skin on skin that echoes through his small room.
His hips buck and his hands move her, his deliberate thrusting turning to reckless abandon. Willow tries to keep the rhythm, tries to allow her body to move for her, her deeply buried instincts to take control -- but he pumps his cock into her needy, inviting cunt with no rhythm, no thought. Every time he lifts her, even if he doesn't fully leave her pussy, she can't bear it and throws herself back down. She moans with every thrust of her hips and sighs with contentment every time he fills her again.
"Aah! Hunter!" Another slam, tears an even shriller cry from her -- she tries to beg again, beg for more, more, more, but her entire body is aflame with the searing inferno of lust and the coil inside her winds tighter and tiger and every move he makes hits a new spot that makes her mad with lust and god there right there right fucking there
She doesn't hear the scream of pure ecstasy that tears itself from her very soul, a shuddering wail that echoes around the small room. She doesn't know that Hunter's name burns across her tongue, flies from her lips, the single word simultaneously thanking him and begging him for more. Her body sings and thumbs with pleasure for him as liquid warmth blooms inside her. The first jet is powerful, barely contained. Each pulse of his cock brings another gush of thick, sticky cum inside her, even as her own juices wash down his length. He doesn't slow or stop -- instead, they become short and erratic, exactly like they did when he came down her throat. She clings to that certainty as her belly extends, just a little more plump than before, his grunts punctuating her screams like periods at the end of a perfect sentence.
She doesn't even realize it's over until she wakes up in his bed a few hours later, wrapped in one of his shirts. His warm arms stay around her, comforting, clinging to her as if she's comforting him as much as he's comforting her.
She can't bring herself to leave.
