Chapter 28 Can’t Sleep

Maggie lay half-dead and paralyzed on the sofa, her legs wide open and limp. After Harold pulled out his dick, her pussy twitched slightly, like a baby spitting milk, spitting out a gurgling, cloudy liquid.
The air was filled with a faint intermingling of fragrance and the scent of bodily fluid.
Harold brushed her sticky forehead with his wet hair, and gently rubbed his fingertip over the scar on her eyebrow bone.
The lingering warmth of desire still remained, and the scar was even more vivid than the vermilion mole on her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her earlobe, neck, and lips.
His hard and erect dick, stroked by the palm of his hand twice, was still as hard and hot as ever, slowly thrusting between her legs, transmitting a scorching heat that made Maggie tremble.
Her whole body felt like it had been beaten by waves and she couldn't hold on any longer. "I want to go wash..."
Harold ignored her plea. He lifted her up, spreading apart her beautiful and slender legs, straddling between her thighs. Her wet and slippery pussy was dripping with a mix of semen and fluids, filled with sensuality.
"Ah..."
His dick, hanging at the entrance of her pussy, suddenly plunged in. Her tender and soft pussy, after climaxing, was still loose and limp. The head of his cock went in to the deepest part, and Maggie threw back her head, unable to hold back her moans.
The ceiling lamp was swaying, and the window curtains fluttered. She was in a daze, frozen.
Harold's powerful thighs pressed against her, his muscles on either side sharply defined. His hips and abdomen moved vigorously, thrusting inside her, bringing her to the peak of pleasure.
As she felt the tightness of her pussy and the warmth of the liquid pouring down, he trembled with excitement, releasing a soft and sensual moan.
He continued his onslaught, thrusting rapidly between her slippery nether regions, teasing and penetrating her again and again.
Finally, his hot semen erupted inside her, causing Maggie to tremble with pleasure. They remained tightly connected, their pubic bones fitting perfectly together, her pear-shaped breasts pressed against his muscular and sweat-covered chest.
Exhausted, Maggie raised her eyes to the window, where the city was filled with countless lights. In that moment, she too was completely filled by Harold.
...
"You don't want to get up yet?"
He let her cling to him, holding her close as he lit a cigarette and took a drag, the smoke crackling softly. "Maggie, let's find a bigger place."
Their discarded clothes lay scattered on the floor next to their feet. Even though the room was clean and unobstructed, he still couldn't fully stretch his legs. When desire was strong, it was like a blazing fire and dry wood – the couch was not quite enough.
She grumbled, her voice muffled. "I'm fine living alone."
As his member softened inside her, Maggie got up and let it slide out of her body. A large amount of white fluid flowed from between her thighs and into the thick black hair at the crotch of the man beneath her.
Harold stubbed out his cigarette and carried her to clean up, listening to her half-conscious complaints about her sore waist. His hands moved in clockwise circles, massaging her waist and hips.
Amidst the steam, she squinted her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Like a half-ripened fairy, she had a captivating charm, but without any toxicity or harm.
After getting dressed, Harold didn't leave right away. He wanted to spend the night here, but the single bed was simply too small.
He sat back on the couch, avoiding the damp mess left from their passionate encounter. A photograph adorned the coffee table, with a date printed in the lower left corner that was taken when Maggie was nineteen years old and had just entered the local prestigious media and broadcasting program. The picture was taken at the school's auditorium, with a backdrop of velvet curtains.
She made it to the finals, her hair tied in a low ponytail, and her clothes accentuating her delicate figure. She looked innocent and charming, without the heightened sense of self-awareness. Harold held the frame in his hand, staring at it for a while.
"Aren't you leaving?"
She walked out of the bedroom, drying her hair with a towel, thinking he had already left. The clock's hands had just passed eleven o'clock.
Harold set down the frame and glanced at the rolled-up cuffs of her pajama pants, revealing her delicate and shiny ankles.
"Aren't you inviting me to stay?"
Maggie blushed slightly. "There's just not enough space here for us."