[While there's no pain for Guzma in that department, there's the slightest bit of discomfort. It's to be expected, she's tight because she's new to this, and despite popular belief, tighter is not always better. However, the pleasure of her drowns out that minor discomfort anyway, and maybe he kinda likes it. He's just like that.
His pace remains even and slow, but as she wraps her leg around him, digging her other heel into the mattress for traction and stability and thus rocking with him, the pace picks up. Their movements are nearly as one, both rocking into each other, breaths quick and labored, peppered with sounds and gasps of pleasure. That protective hold her arm slips into gives him a strange sense of comfort, one he can't exactly explain, nor fully understand. He decides he doesn't need to, merely relishes in it.
As his rhythm picks up, and those thrusts become more and more unabated by her inexperienced body, he finds himself overtaken by it all. By the passion between them, both physical and emotional—it's all so much. Yet somehow not enough, because here he is wanting more. There's a sheen of sweat that's forming on him from the heat between them, the friction of their movements, and of course the exertion of fucking her.
The gnawing pain in his neck goes ignored as he continues, enjoying himself as he works himself up to his own climax. Kissing her neck, sucking on it, nuzzling against her jaw and ear. The hand on her thigh remains, and perhaps he grips her a little too tightly on accident, as he likewise grips the sheets near her head.
With a heavy voice, laced with lust and passion, he breathes out:]
no subject
His pace remains even and slow, but as she wraps her leg around him, digging her other heel into the mattress for traction and stability and thus rocking with him, the pace picks up. Their movements are nearly as one, both rocking into each other, breaths quick and labored, peppered with sounds and gasps of pleasure. That protective hold her arm slips into gives him a strange sense of comfort, one he can't exactly explain, nor fully understand. He decides he doesn't need to, merely relishes in it.
As his rhythm picks up, and those thrusts become more and more unabated by her inexperienced body, he finds himself overtaken by it all. By the passion between them, both physical and emotional—it's all so much. Yet somehow not enough, because here he is wanting more. There's a sheen of sweat that's forming on him from the heat between them, the friction of their movements, and of course the exertion of fucking her.
The gnawing pain in his neck goes ignored as he continues, enjoying himself as he works himself up to his own climax. Kissing her neck, sucking on it, nuzzling against her jaw and ear. The hand on her thigh remains, and perhaps he grips her a little too tightly on accident, as he likewise grips the sheets near her head.
With a heavy voice, laced with lust and passion, he breathes out:]
Lu...