Chapter 20 Fuck Tits

She had moist, hazy apricot eyes, moaning and sounding delicate as she was being penetrated, "Ah... It feels so swollen..."
Harold vigorously thrust his purple, thick rod into the small cave, pounding it dozens of times.
The splashing sound of water gushed out from their joining parts.
He breathed heavily, his eyes turning red; he firmly held Maggie's delicate waist in his hands, pressing her against his own hips, and then straightening his waist, he thrust upwards.
She is so tender, clinging onto him tightly.
A rush of hot liquid poured down, causing Maggie's lower abdomen and thighs to tremble involuntarily. She couldn't bear it anymore and clenched her fingers onto the sofa fabric.
Harold knew she was sensitive; her inner depths would gush and entwine as he withdrew his manhood, flipping her spine to plunge in from the front.
Maggie's eyes fluttered as she fixed her gaze on him, her lips slightly parted. Her eyelids burned a crimson hue, and in her state of confusion and infatuation, she captivated him, igniting a fiery passion within him.
He leaned over to be close to her skin, perfectly and tightly fitting together, pressing against her soft breasts. The thrusting was intense, the grinding was fierce.
Chest pain and itching intertwined, Maggie whimpered and cried, while the urgency of the waves subsided one after another.
The ferocious sinew sprouts from Harold's ear, extending towards his neck, chest, and his well-toned body, with muscles gleaming in a lustrous honey hue.
He had a strong and muscular chest, expanded like the sea, thrusting and penetrating with an inexhaustible vigor. His testicles collided against her buttocks, creating pleasurable sounds that echoed throughout the room.
"You're holding on so tightly, once I came in, I want to come out."
The glistening white breasts bounced and rolled like waves in his fiery gaze.
Maggie let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back and uttering a moan.
In Harold's pitch-black eyes, she caught a glimpse of another version of herself, robed in shades of powder pink, incredibly soft and tender like a spring drizzle, flourishing like blooming red plum blossoms.
Joy overcame reason, and excitement numbed dignity.
Maggie was in sheer delight, forgetting everything around her. With each lift of her hips, a warm rush of water would shoot out, moistening the glistening viscous fluid. It elegantly trailed and intertwined, cascading onto Harold's manhood and abdomen.
The scene was indulgently decadent to the extreme.
The water splashed onto the sofa, leaving a wet patch, while the floor lamp cast the positions of the two entangled individuals, engaging in passionate movements, onto the wall.
Harold grasped her ankle, his shoulder muscles tensed, as he applied brute force, causing Maggie to unleash a startled scream.
Tears shattered in her eyes and she felt a sense of fear. Harold's stick remained enthusiastic, throbbing and swelling inside her tender opening, as if insatiable.
"Could you slow down a little, please..."
Her legs trembled and there was a blush at the corner of her eyes, "Could we just stop..."
A man of stoic demeanor was conservative in public, yet quite adventurous in the privacy of the bedroom.
Maggie was in a daze, for in her mind, he seemed completely different from the wild and turbulent person standing before her right now...
"Are you that weak?"
Harold pulled out his rod, bringing forth a rush of moisture from within the cavity. The fleshly opening swiftly began to heal, while the two delicate folds of the vagina remained swollen and reddened, as if having endured significant distress.
A dark and purple wand stretched across the smooth valley of Maggie's pale cleavage. He gestured for her to support her own breasts, a half-enticing, half-demanding plea. His voice, husky, deep, and seductive, held a captivating intensity.
Maggie trembled and cautiously brought her breasts together, enclosing his thick and scorching intimidating shaft. It was incredibly hot, hotter than boiling water, as if he was intensely thrusting into her breasts, repeatedly grinding and punishing within her cleavage.
The milk-colored flesh had an unusually vivid crimson hue, as if intentionally punctuated by his large glans making ephemeral contact with her delicate chin.
The male organ of Harold is terrifying in shape, covered with veins, and unable to be contained by Maggie. With just a few thrusts, it would easily pop out, causing her tender breasts to be squeezed and deformed in a lascivious manner.
The silkiness of the skin felt like a massager, stimulating his flesh root.
This woman seemed like a gentle realm.
There was not a single spot that is not pleasurable to be intimate with.
Harold inserted his fingers into her long hair, as if delicate and flowing spring water slipped through his fingertips. His vigorous and powerful hips finally began to tense, and at that very moment of release, a hoarse and muffled growl escaped his throat. His solid muscles convulsed intensely.
He was full of vigor, as one wave followed another, spraying onto Maggie's neck, amidst her flowing hair, and even all over her breasts.
Harold lay prostrate by her side, his heavy breaths engulfed in the silence that followed the tempestuous waves.
Immediately, he propped herself up and picked up a white handkerchief from the coffee table basket, gently wiping Maggie's cheeks where a few drops of semen had splattered.
Long eyelashes stuck together in clusters.