Chapter 723: Standing While Still Inside

When he rolled his hips the sound was obscene... a slow, glossy drag of flesh through too much wetness. When he gave a sharper thrust it turned into a lewd, meaty slap that echoed under the trees.

The scent rising off their joined bodies was even more dense now... salt and musk and the green smell of crushed moss mixed into something primal, something sacred.

Sol leaned down until his chest nearly touched hers.

The new angle folded her tighter and let him grind even deeper. He could feel the soft resistance of her cervix against the tip of his cock with every pass.

Zeyra’s entire body jerked each time it happened, a full-body flinch of pure sensation.

Her cunt responded by clamping down in sudden, irregular spasms that had nothing to do with orgasm and everything to do with being so full she could barely process it.

Sol discovered he could feel her heartbeat in places he shouldn’t.

Not just against the shaft, but higher, deeper, a faint rapid flutter that brushed the head of his cock whenever he pressed against the soft barrier at the end of her.

The discovery made him greedy.

He began to chase that tiny pulse, adjusting the angle of his hips by fractions until every inward movement ended with that intimate, living contact.

Each time it happened a fine tremor ran through Zeyra’s stomach. Her cunt answered with a slow, involuntary ripple that traveled the full length of him like a warm wave.

He started talking then, voice low and rough against her ear.

Not praise. Not filthy commands. Just quiet, almost wondering observations about how she felt around him... how hot, how soft, how completely she took him.

The words themselves were less important than the way his breath hit her skin while he continued to move inside her with that same relentless, grinding depth.

Zeyra’s eyes had gone distant. She stared up at the canopy without seeing it, mouth parted, completely occupied by the thick, relentless presence moving inside her.

She was still present, still feeling everything, but the intensity had pushed her into a place where language no longer worked properly.

The earlier orgasms had left her so sensitive that even the smallest adjustment of angle sent bright, overwhelming sparks cascading through her pelvis and up her spine.

All she could do was take it... the thick, constant presence of his cock, the repeated deep pressure against her most sensitive inner place, the way her own body kept betraying her with fresh floods of wetness and helpless little contractions.

Sol’s control was fraying in visible ways now.

His thrusts had lost their earlier smoothness. There was no longer a pattern to track. He moved according to sensation alone... a deep grind when the pressure against her cervix felt especially good, a series of short dense thrusts when her walls fluttered in that particular way that made his vision narrow, a long buried stillness when the urge to finish threatened to take him too soon.

Sweat dripped from his jaw onto her collarbone. His breathing had turned ragged and breathy.

Every time her cunt squeezed around him in one of those sudden, milking spasms his hips stuttered for half a second before he forced himself to keep going.

He was fucking her as if he had decided that finishing was less important than remaining inside her for as long as humanly possible.

And Zeyra, wrecked and open and trembling, simply held on and let him.

Sol leaned down until their chests nearly touched and stayed still for a long while, until his cock cooled down a bit.

The change folded her tighter around him and forced his cock even deeper. The cockhead pressed hard against that soft inner barrier protecting the womb, and Zeyra’s breath left her in a sharp, startled sound.

Her cunt clenched around the sudden extra depth in a tight, involuntary grip.

"Sol— wait, that’s—"

After a while, feeling controlled enough, still buried to the root, he slid both arms under her back and lifted her clean off the moss in one smooth motion.

Zeyra’s eyes flew wide. A surprised cry escaped her as the ground disappeared.

"What are you— ah!"

Her arms shot up and locked around his neck on pure instinct.

Her legs slid down from sides and automatically hooked around his waist.

The new position drove him impossibly deeper for a moment. Gravity pulled her down onto his cock until there was nowhere left for him to go.

Unlike other men, Sol barely noticed the weight. His strength made her feel almost weightless.

"I’ve got you," he said, voice rough against her ear. "Just hold on."

He adjusted his hold, one arm solid across her upper back, the other supporting her lower, and began to move.

He fucked her standing.

Short, powerful upward thrusts that lifted her slightly before letting her sink back down onto every thick inch. The motion was controlled but relentless.

Each upward drive buried him to the hilt; each controlled drop made her take him all over again. The angle was brutal in the best way... deep, direct, and completely inescapable.

Zeyra could only cling to his neck and feel herself being filled over and over while her body hung suspended in his arms.

"Fuck— you’re going toooo deep like this," she managed between broken breaths. "I can feel all of you—"

"Perfect then." He thrust up harder, making her take every inch again. "That’s exactly the point."

The wet sounds turned sharper without the moss to muffle them. Fresh juices ran down his cock and dripped between his feet. Every upward drive knocked the head of his cock firmly against her cervix. Zeyra’s breath hitched against his neck each time it happened.

"Sol— slow down, I can’t—"

"You can." He kept the rhythm steady and deep, using the full strength of his waist. "You’re already taking it."

Her arms tightened around his neck. Soft, wrecked sounds spilled out of her with every thrust. He shifted his grip and began moving her on his cock as much as he moved himself into her... lifting her almost off him, then pulling her back down hard at the same time as he thrust up.

The dual motion forced a louder cry from her throat. The sudden emptiness followed by the full, jarring stretch made her vision blur for a second. Wetness poured out of her in a warm rush, coating him even more thoroughly.

"Ah—! That’s— too much—

"Is it?" He did it again, deliberate and deep. "But it seems like your cunt’s still gripping me like it wants more."

Zeyra made a broken sound that was half protest, half moan. Her body betrayed her anyway... fluttering and clenching around him in continuous oversensitive spasms.

Slowly Sol’s breathing also grew heavier, he held her tighter against his body, as the sensation was genuinely too much even for him to bear.

"Still so fucking tight," he muttered complainingly. "Even after everything."

She turned her face further into his neck, voice muffled and shaky.

"You’re going to ruin me like this..."

"That’s the idea."

Hearing the golden words, He felt a boost of energy and kept pumping into her with steady, powerful strokes, holding her up as if she weighed nothing. And it was kinda true too, Sol could have done this for as long as he wanted. Her weight meant nothing to him.

Zeyra could only cling to his neck and take every deep thrust, her broken sounds mixing with the wet slap of their bodies in the open air.