#46
Layla’s body was trembling beneath me, every muscle wound tight, squeezing around me almost painfully.
Her breath came in sharp little gasps, her hands gripping the counter as though it was the only thing keeping her steady.
My first instinct was to stop for a moment. To pull away and let her rest and recover. But the moment I shifted, she turned her head, her flushed face framed by loose strands of dark hair.
Her eyes—glassy, pained, but pleading—locked onto mine.
“D-don’t… don’t leave,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the words shy and uncertain, yet desperate. It wasn’t just lust I heard in her tone—it was fear. Fear of me stopping. Fear of me being disgusted by her. Or maybe, just the fear of rejection itself.
Naturally, I didn’t have any intention of doing that.
I lowered myself over her back, wrapping her in my arms.
“Shh… I’m here,” I whispered, kissing the slope of her shoulder gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She stiffened at first at the kiss, her breath catching in shock. Then her eyes softened, a faint tremor passing through her body—not from pain this time, but from something warmer. Relief. Satisfaction.
I smiled faintly, pressing another kiss along her spine, then another lower, trailing warmth down her back as my hips stayed still, giving her time to breathe, to adjust. Each kiss drew a soft, startled sound from her throat—half embarrassment, half joy.
Her body began to relax under me, her trembling easing bit by bit.
“You’re doing so well,” I said softly, nuzzling her ear, letting my words and my kisses distract her from the ache. My hand stroked her stomach gently, slow and soothing. “Just a little longer, and the pain will fade. I promise.”
She shivered. “O-okay…” she breathed, her voice small but steady. Then, after a pause, she added in a whisper almost too soft to catch: “I… I’m glad it’s you.”
That confession hit me harder than anything else. My heart clenched, the last of my guilt giving way to a fierce tenderness. I kissed her again, this time on the cheek, her skin hot beneath my lips. “Me too,” I whispered back.
And then, slowly, carefully, I began to move—gentle, unhurried, every shift matched with a kiss or a touch to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
Her gasps softened, the pain in her eyes giving way to something else—surprise at the tenderness, happiness at the care, and beneath it all, the budding glow of a pleasure she had never known before.
“Ah… w-wait, that—” she gasped, glancing back at me with boyish panic in her eyes. Her voice cracked as if she couldn’t believe it. “I… I feel… weird.”
I stroked her side gently, “Weird is good,” I whispered against her skin. “You’re starting to enjoy it.”
I kissed her temple, kissing away her doubts, kissing her until her pain was gone. Her lips parted in shock when a moan escaped her, as if the sound had betrayed her. She tried to cover her face with one hand, embarrassed, but her hips moved on their own, tentative at first, then slowly matching mine.
“I… I can’t believe this feels… good,” she muttered, voice trembling, cheeks burning. “I thought it would hurt all the way… but now… ahh…”
“I told you, it will only be painful for a moment.”
As her pussy juices began to flow, I eased back slightly before moving forward once more. Leaning forward, I kissed her soft lips and was shocked by the passionate way she kissed me back. It seems like pain had started to disappear, and what was left was only pleasure—and her shy, boyish disbelief at how much she wanted more.
Her breathing was ragged now, each exhale trembling, each gasp a little louder than the last. What began as nervous resistance had unraveled into something hungrier.
At first, her movements had been hesitant, as if she were testing the waters, unsure if she was even allowed to want this. But now… now her hips were meeting mine with rhythm, shy but insistent. Her body clung to me tighter with every motion, as if afraid I’d pull away if she didn’t hold me in place.
And her voice—God, her voice. Those shaky, muffled sounds had turned into unguarded moans, soft and desperate. She tried to bite them back, covering her mouth again, but I didn’t let her. I caught her hand, kissed her knuckles, and pinned it gently to the counter.
“I told you,” I whispered against her ear, my voice low, steady. “I want to hear your voice. I want all of it—all of you.”
Her reply was a stammered, “A-Alvin… I… I can’t—ah!” but the way she bucked against me betrayed her words.
The flush on her cheeks, the sweat trickling down her back, the wide, watery eyes—she looked like a shy boy completely undone by a woman’s persistence. Except it was me driving her there, and watching her crumble under pleasure filled me with something fierce and tender all at once.
I kissed along her spine, planting soft, distracting touches with my lips, until she was arching beneath me. Each kiss made her gasp, each roll of my hips drew a new, sharper sound from her throat.
And then it happened—her hesitation broke. She pushed back against me, hard this time, needy, her moan spilling out unrestrained.
I froze in surprise, looking down at her. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes half-lidded with a mixture of shame and hunger. “D-don’t stop,” she whispered, voice trembling but resolute. “Please… don’t stop.”
That was it. That was the moment her shyness gave way to need.
A growl slipped from my throat before I could stop it, my restraint unraveling. My hands tightened around her waist, and I drove into her with more strength, more heat. Her cry echoed in the kitchen, high and breathless, but she didn’t resist—she clung to me harder, her whole body quivering in desperate rhythm.
Her earlier confusion was gone, replaced by raw craving. She wasn’t just accepting me anymore—she was matching me, begging for more with every frantic push of her hips.
“Good girl… let it take you. I’ve got you.”
Her reply was incoherent, a broken moan that sent shivers down my spine. And with every thrust, every kiss, every tremble of her body, I could feel it—the shyness that had clung to her at the start was burning away, replaced by something wilder, something needier.
And I let go with her, meeting her hunger with my own.
I slid in and out of her tight pussy, each time moving deeper into her. As her pain seemed to be forgotten, I began to quicken my pace. Again, she surprised and delighted me when I felt her body move, her hips thrust backwards to meet mine. I knew it wasn’t going to take long for either of us, and so it proved.
As I leaned down and reached out for her breasts from behind, pinching her nipples, her orgasm hit, and her whole body shuddered as she screamed again, this time in pleasure. I tried to keep thrusting deeply as her pussy contracted around my cock and squeezed it like it had never been squeezed before.
As her orgasm subsided, my cock slid more easily in and out of her well-lubricated pussy. Raising myself just a little, I looked at her. She was smiling now, so I buried myself deeper and started pushing into her with a hard buck of my hips, sliding my fat, heavy cock through her lower entrance, feeling it stretch out and greet me with a wet slurping noise.
Layla, still looking over her shoulder, locked eyes with me in a hungry, affectionate gaze.
“D, does it feel good inside me?” she asked as if she was worried that I would not feel good inside her.
But how can that be possible?
“Yes,” I said as I looked down at where we were conjoined and moaned at the sight. “It feels so good~!”
She let out a muffled moan that melted into a low groan as I pulled out and then slid back in.
My breath was hot and heavy against her neck as I began to thrust, my hips driving against her. With each thrust, I could not help but let out a whimper, a sound of pleasure and desperation that mingled with her moans, creating a symphony of passion that filled the air.
The wet, slick sounds of our coupling echoed through the kitchen, the lewd, intimate noise a testament to our desire and need.
Layla’s moans grew louder, her body pressing harder against the edge of the counter, her breath hitching with each powerful thrust.
I watched her transformation—from a shy, innocent girl trembling under my touch, to a lustful seductress who clung to me as if I were the only thing she needed.
Her innocence hadn’t vanished, not entirely—it was still there, in the blush on her cheeks, in the stammer of her voice. But it was tangled now with raw desire, burning through her hesitation, turning every moan into something that pulled me deeper.
I held on to her tightly, gripping her tits and squeezing them hard, as I fucked as hard as I could, but she made no attempt to pull away. She gripped the edge of the counter and stood up on her tiptoes. She wasn’t saying anything, just groaning and panting. I was watching my thighs smash against her thick ass, and it gave me an idea.
Still holding her shoulder, I let go of her hip and smacked her hard on her butt cheek.
“AHHHHH!” She screamed.
“You like that?!” I growled, still drilling my cock into her. I slapped it again.
“AHHHHHH!.. Y, yes!”
I slapped it again.
Her body tensed and trembled as she came. But I didn’t stop. I pulled my cock from her pussy, and she moaned in disappointment. But before she could react to the loss of my cock, I brushed her long blonde hair from her face and kissed her while still holding onto her neck.
I dropped my hand from her face down to her breasts, and started to fondle her breasts. She responded by grabbing my hips and pushing her own towards me.
“M, more,” she said. “P, please fuck me more,” she moaned desperately, almost begging. Now I started to wonder who it was between us that really needs to get fucked- me, whose cock never softens for unknown reason, or her, who I just asked to solve it.
I took my hand off her neck, broke the kiss, and slid lower, squeezing her breast harder. Her skin was hot beneath my palm, slick with sweat, her nipple stiffening against my touch. I leaned back just enough to catch her eyes, my lips curling into a grin.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you… you slut?”
I meant it as a tease, just a cruel little joke to see her fluster, to watch her stammer like she always did in class. But instead—
“YES!” she cried, the word tearing out of her throat, raw and wild. Her eyes glazed with lust, cheeks flaming red, lips parted as she panted for breath. That timid, reserved girl I’d known was gone. In her place was someone crazed, hungry.
The sight of it sent a jolt straight through me.
Her chest heaved beneath my hand, and when I squeezed harder, pinching her nipples between my fingers, her entire body quivered violently. She broke apart with another orgasm, shaking against me, her moan echoing in the quiet house.
What a pervert. I smiled—unmeant, but with tenderness and affection hidden behind it. She was mine like this, shameless and undone, and I wanted to savor every second.
But then my stomach rumbled, reminding me of my original reason for coming into the kitchen in the first place. I chuckled at the absurdity, looking around for something to eat. That’s when my eyes caught the half-finished sandwich Layla had made earlier.
“Layla,” I murmured, still stroking her hip as she slumped against me, panting. “Can I have your sandwich?”
“Eh?” she blinked, dazed, her face a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. Then she gave a flustered smile. “O-of course, please have it…”
“Thank you,” I said casually, as though I hadn’t just wrung an orgasm out of her.
I pulled her closer, grabbed her naked waist, and lifted her onto my lap as I sat down in the chair. The feel of her bare skin against me was intoxicating, her soft thighs spreading over mine, her ass pressing warmly into me while I picked up the sandwich and took a bite.
She looked at me with amusement, that small chuckle of hers bubbling out as she wiped sweat from her forehead.
I leaned over and kissed her lips, savoring the sweetness of her aftertaste mixed with the sandwich’s salt.
“Are you having fun?”
“Yes!” she giggled, her voice high and breathless but filled with genuine joy.
“Do you want more? I can make you another sandwich,” she offered eagerly.
I nodded.
She slipped off my lap, and I let out a sigh of disappointment at the loss of her warmth, the heavenly feel of her bare ass leaving my thighs. But the ache of that loss was replaced by a sight just as intoxicating—Layla, moving around the kitchen completely naked.
Her soft curves swayed as she bent over to grab ingredients, her breasts jiggling freely as she reached up to the cupboards, her thighs brushing together with the faintest tremor of lingering aftershocks. She hummed softly under her breath, like preparing food for me in the nude was the most natural thing in the world.
And I sat back, chewing leisurely, watching her with a hungry grin. It was domestic and erotic all at once—the perfect reversal of roles in this world, where the girl served her man gladly, naked and proud, giving me food and drinks like it was her honor.
I leaned back in the chair, letting my eyes roam over every inch of her, already wondering how long I’d let her keep serving before I pulled her back onto my lap and took her all over again.
Layla returned with a fresh sandwich, her cheeks still rosy as she placed it carefully on the table in front of me. She looked almost proud of herself—standing there in nothing but her flushed skin, chest rising and falling, offering me food like some shy yet devoted wife.
I took another bite of the first sandwich, then glanced up at her, grinning. “Sit.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Sit…? Where?”
I patted my thigh. “Here. Where else?”
Her blush deepened, but without hesitation, she slid back onto my lap, her soft ass molding perfectly against my legs again. Her body trembled faintly, every breath shaky, her breasts brushing my chest as she adjusted herself to face me.
I didn’t mean for her to sit this way, but God… it was better. So much better. Up close, she looked devastatingly beautiful—flushed cheeks, wide, wet eyes, lips bitten raw from our kissing. And I couldn’t understand it. How could any man in this world not want this?
Sometimes, I thought, this world’s sense of beauty is broken. Just because a woman has fuller curves, heavier breasts, and thick, round hips, they call her undesirable. I couldn’t understand it at all. Not when she sat here on my lap, this wonderful creature, trembling for me, looking like sin wrapped in softness.
I picked up the new sandwich, tore off a piece, and held it to her lips.
“Your turn. Open.”
She blinked, then gave a small, embarrassed smile before parting her lips. I slipped the food in, brushing my thumb against her lower lip as she chewed. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring the taste like it was more than just bread and filling—it was something intimate simply because I gave it to her.
Her lips glistened faintly, and when she swallowed, I leaned in and kissed her, catching the lingering flavor from her tongue. She made a soft, surprised sound, then melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around my shoulders.
When I pulled back, I chuckled. “Tastes better when I feed you, doesn’t it?”
She gave a sheepish laugh, nodding quickly. “Y-yes…”
I took another bite for myself, chewed, then pressed my mouth to hers again, letting her taste it straight from my lips. She giggled into the kiss, her tongue playfully darting to steal the flavor, and I rewarded her with a firm squeeze on her bare hip that made her squeal softly.
Before long, we were trading bites this way—one piece fed to me, another offered to her, some stolen through messy kisses that ended with her moaning into my mouth. My free hand never stayed still, wandering over her thighs, her waist, the curve of her breast, teasing her body as casually as if I were just eating.
At one point, she reached for the sandwich to feed me herself, but I caught her wrist and smirked. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to serve me like that. That’s my job. You just sit pretty and eat when I say so.”
Her breath hitched, eyes shimmering with that strange mix of embarrassment and excitement. “O-okay…” she whispered, leaning against me, perfectly obedient.
I tore another bite and pressed it to her lips, kissing her right after she took it. The taste of food and the heat of her mouth mingled until I couldn’t tell where one pleasure ended and the other began.
And all the while, her naked body shifted on my lap, making my cock strain harder beneath her soft thighs, every little movement stoking the fire that had barely cooled since the last round.
Her body was warm and heavy against mine, her lips sweet with every bite I slipped between them, her tongue eager each time I kissed her after. She giggled softly when I brushed a crumb from her lips with my thumb, only for me to press the same thumb into her mouth, letting her suck it with a shyness that made my cock twitch painfully hard beneath her.
