He increased the speed of the tiny thrusts, the wet, slapping sound of his pelvis hitting her echoing in the small space, a rhythmic, taunting tempo that drove her closer and closer to a state of pure, unadulterated insanity.
She was trapped in a loop of exquisite torment, her teeth clamped on his shoulder, her body arching in a desperate, beautiful struggle to survive the sheer magnitude of him.
The steam in the bathroom seemed to thicken, turning the air into a heavy, humid veil that clung to her skin, mirroring the suffocating intensity of the sensation inside her. As Mike continued his rapid, shallow teasing, Sabrina's mind began to fracture, the logical, structured thoughts of the "Professor" dissolving into a primal soup of pure feeling.
Inside her mind, a single, crystalline thought began to pulse in time with the rhythm of his hips, a realization that stripped away every previous memory of intimacy she had ever possessed:
