Give me one

His hand contracts, and his fingers slide further inside me. I struggle to remain upright, eventually grasping onto the bookcase frame nearby as the alternative is to allow my knees to buckle. I look at him, my eyes pleading for clemency, and his acquiescent nod acknowledges the reality of the situation, and permits my frame-graspage.

I lose control, and come, screaming my ecstasy, and gushing what feels like gallons of come down my leg and onto the rug. And collapse into his warm embrace.

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