The world had transformed into a strange painting, where only a few elements moved: me, thrusting wildly atop Isabel; Delilah, swaying gently with her hands tucked in her dress; and Isabel herself, adrift between agony and ruin.
And I... I savored every second of it.
Isabel's newly deflowered rear was a masterpiece of pain and conquest.
The sensation was incredible—hot, like a tight glove of flesh gripping my cock firmly from base to tip. Each time I drew my hips back, her still-spasming sphincter muscles tried to hold on, tried to prevent my cock from leaving, like a heavy, warm velvet curtain.
Then, as I pushed forward again, they resisted, tightened, offering equally strong resistance before finally yielding and letting me plunge back in deep.
