Evilangel
Alina Lopez, Isiah Maxwell Pic(s)
A deep, primal ache began to thrum within her, a silent rhythm that pulsed in time with her quickening heartbeat. She imagined the heavy, solid weight of a man’s desire, a formidable presence that would demand her complete surrender. Her fingers traced idle patterns on her stomach, skin flushing with the heat of the fantasy, craving a fullness that would stretch her to her very limits. The thought of such an impressive girth filling her completely sent a shiver of pure anticipation down her spine. She could almost feel the powerful, deliberate strokes, each one a masterful claim of the deep, sensitive places hidden within her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she pictured the sheer force of such a joining, the way it would overwhelm her senses and leave her breathless. Her body arched subtly, an involuntary plea for a pressure so intense it would blur the line between pleasure and exquisite pain. This was not a wish for gentle caresses, but a hunger for a profound and dominating possession. She needed to be utterly consumed by a magnificent, unyielding strength that promised to shatter her world into a million points of blinding ecstasy.
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