41 ~ His favourite woman

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VIVAAN

I fucked her, I fucked her with all my strength and made her mine, last night.

She was panting in my arms, moaning my name and begging me to fuck her more. She has no idea how hot and attractive she looks while I fuck her and she moves her hips along with my thrusts.

Those big bosoms of hers jiggling and jumping for me along with her when she was riding me.
Her plumpy pink lips and her -her nails when she was digging it all inside my body.

She doesn't know that she is a Goddess.

Every time I see her, I want to devour her body like no man would have ever done to a woman.

She deserves that. To be devoured, to be worshipped. By me. And just me.

She is sleeping peacefully right now in my arms with her palm lying against my chest.

After I fucked her last night, she was whimpering in pain.

Her core had turned sore because of our hot session. When she tried to move a little towards the bathroom to clean herself, her soreness wasn't allowing her to take a step further.

I picked her in my arms and took her to the washroom.
I cleaned her body, her core, out of which my warm juices were dripping. I swear she looked so hot.

We sat in the tub filled with warm water and she felt somewhat relaxed.

After that, I made her wear her night gown and she slept soundly in my embrace.

Her core was so fucking tight that for the first few minutes I wasn't able to move myself inside her. The day she told me that she hasn't ever touched herself was the day I understood that this was going to happen.

She is too timid for me to show her my real side. She doesn't know how wild and horny I'm when it comes to fucking her.

I hadn’t been able to fall asleep for a long time afterward, not because I was restless, but because I didn’t want the night to end.

I didn’t want to let go of the way her body felt against mine, the softness of her skin beneath my fingers, the warmth that had surrounded us like a cocoon.

Last night, something changed between us.

We’d always been close, but this—this was different. It was as if every barrier, every unspoken hesitation, had melted away in the heat of our shared desire.

Last night, she became something more.

The way she’d looked at me, her eyes soft yet blazing with something I couldn’t quite put into words, had made my heart race. And when she’d whispered my name, moaned my name — I've no words.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, but I couldn’t help letting my eyes trace the lines of her body beneath the sheets. The memories of how perfectly she fit into my arms came flooding back, every kiss, every caress etched into my mind.

The way her body had responded to mine was like a dance, each movement in sync, as if we had known these steps forever.

She had been so soft, so warm, and the way her skin had felt beneath my fingertips—it was more than I had ever imagined. There was a delicate strength to her, a grace in the way she’d held me, in the way she had trusted me completely.

Her hands—God, the way her hands had felt on my skin, moving with such tenderness yet with an underlying passion that had set my whole body alight. I could still feel the ghost of her touch, the way she had made me feel as though I was the only man in the world. And in that moment, she was the only woman, the only person who mattered.

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