Page 107 of Mario
"I need you inside me," I say, breathless and wanton. "Fuck me. I need you tofinally fuck me. Please. I can't take any more."
The intense look on his face steals what little breath I have left.
“Brava ragazza,” he says, his voice rough.
“What does that mean?”
His mouth lowers until it hovers over mine.
“Good girl.”
My entire body goes liquid beneath him.
He doesn’t waste another second.
Mario reaches between us and grips, guiding his cock to my entrance. Then, he pushes inside. Just an inch.
And my entire world narrows to that single point of contact.
The stretch is exquisite.
A perfect, painful pleasure that steals the very air from my lungs.
He is still, giving my body time to adjust to him, watching my face intently, as if memorizing my every reaction.
And I am grateful because he is big.
So much bigger than I imagined.
And I have imagined.
A lot.
He starts to move again, pushing into me.
My hands tighten in his hair, my breath hitching with each inch he claims.
My body stretches to accommodate him, a slight burn that quickly melts into a deep, aching pleasure.
He pushes in deeper, then deeper still, until he is fully sheathed, buried to the hilt.
My breath escapes in a rush. The feeling of being so completely, utterly full is overwhelming.
I can feel him everywhere.
Inside me, around me, over me.
He is a part of me.
He holds still again, letting me adjust, letting my body accept the delicious invasion.
I am a trembling, quivering mess, conquered by this man and his cock.
He lowers his head and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to my forehead.
It is a surprisingly gentle gesture from a man who has been anything but.
“Such a perfect pussy. All tight and hot and wet. Just for me.”
