First Timer

London River looms over Brad Knight like a predator who smells fresh blood. She spreads her thighs, lines up that swollen head with her slick cunt, then sinks down slow so he feels every inch split open. Their eyes lock when he bottoms out. His first stroke goes from shaky to urgent. The wet clap of skin picks up, keeps time with her breath punching out. She grinds her clit against the root each time he bottoms out, greedy for friction. He grips her hips like a man drowning. London whispers, raw, how she wants his load, wants him pulsing, wants his first creampie to ruin him for anyone else. Brad bucks harder, faster, desperate. When he starts to lose it she drops her weight, locks her knees, and fucks him through it, muscles squeezing him, milking every thick spurt deep into her hungry hole. He empties with a grunt that sounds like surrender. Hot seed leaks around the seal her cunt makes around him, but she stays seated, keeps him buried until she feels every twitch settle, until she knows the memory is locked in his bones. Satisfied that she’s branded him for life, she finally lifts off, taking half his load with her.