I seized her hips mid-slam—wrenching her off my cock with a grip like iron. The sudden hollow void shattered her frenzy.
"NO!" she wailed, collapsing onto all fours like a puppet cut from its strings. She clawed at the rug, crying—real, desperate tears streaming down her face as her pussy clenched around the emptiness I'd carved. "Put it back! Please, Peter, I need—I NEED—"
Her ass hovered before me—a masterpiece of adolescent divinity sculpted by genetics and relentless squats. Perfectly round, tanned olive skin stretched taut over muscle, dimples above each hemisphere flexing as she trembled.
Not a single flaw—just smooth, firm curves designed to be gripped, spanked, and owned.
The school's "hottest girl" presented as a primal offering—glistening with sweat and the blood of her ruined innocence.
CRACK! My palm landed hard on her right cheek. She jumped. "More!"
CRACK! Left cheek this time—reddening beautifully. "HARDER!"
