Her thighs were trembling. Not shaking..trembling like something had short-circuited inside her, like every nerve ending between her legs had been fried and rewired to crave pain, to ache for the stretch, the sting, the sickening fullness of his c**k.
Her p***y fluttered..fluttered like it couldn’t understand why it was empty. Like it didn’t know where he’d gone. Like it was reaching for him, still begging with each useless, gaping pulse.
Her ass was a f*****g painting. Covered in spit and c*m, gleaming under the chandelier like some sacrilegious masterpiece. A portrait of desecration. A canvas painted with ruin. And her cunt…
Her cunt looked like it had survived war.
No, not survived.
It lost.
Fucked raw.
Fucked open.
Fucked into something unrecognizable.
Swollen lips the color
