FREE USE in Primitive World

He held her completely still like that.

Fully sheathed and buried to the root in the tightest, hottest virgin pussy he had ever felt.

Hips locked against hers.

Mouth sealed over hers.

Arms holding her so tightly she could not even tremble without him feeling every fraction of it.

The cold mountain water continued to lap around their joined thighs and hips.

The moon continued to pour silver light across the wet planes of her back and the dark marks he had left on her neck. Inside her, the virgin walls of her pussy fluttered and clenched extensively before finally and slowly, gradually began to adjust to the thick intrusion that had forced them open.

Sol could feel every tiny pulse of her heartbeat around his cock. Could feel the searing heat that made the cold of the spring feel distant and irrelevant. Could feel the soft, slick grip of her inner flesh trying to decide whether to reject the unfamiliar fullness or accept it.

For a long while, he did not thrust, or even grind a bit.

He simply held her through the first long, necessary moments of shock, kissing her through every broken sound, every sharp inhale, every involuntary clench of her newly stretched pussy around the thick cock that now filled it completely.

One of his hands stroked slowly up and down the strong line of her back. The other remained locked at her spine, keeping their hips sealed together so that not a single inch of him slipped free.

Veylara’s initial rigidity lasted a long time.

Her fingers dug hard into the muscle of his shoulders and upper back.

Her thighs trembled against his.

Every so often a fresh wave of tension would roll through her inner walls, squeezing his cock in tight, rhythmic pulses that tested his control to the absolute limit.

He stayed exactly there for a long time.

Long enough for the initial shock of penetration to begin bleeding out of her body. Long enough for the frantic, spasmodic clenching of her pussy to soften into something less panicked and more purely reactive.

Long enough for her breathing... still caught against his mouth... to shift from sharp, broken gasps into something deeper and more uneven.

He could feel every minute change.

The way her strong thighs slowly stopped trying to clamp shut around his hips.

The way her fingers, which had been digging hard enough into his shoulders to leave marks even on his denser flesh, gradually loosened their desperate grip.

The way the rigid tension in her spine eased degree by degree until she was beginning... reluctantly, inevitably... to lean into the support of his arms.

Even as the worst of the stretch-shock faded, her inner walls continued to flutter and ripple along the full length of him in small, involuntary waves.

Every tiny spasm milked another pulse of blood into his already painfully hard cock.

Every time a residual tremor ran through her body he answered it by tightening his arms and kissing her harder, pouring the taste of himself... and the residual taste of her own pussy from earlier... back into her mouth until the only thing she could focus on was the dual invasion of tongue and cock.

The wetness that had eased his entry continued to spill around the base of his shaft where their bodies were joined, mixing with the cold spring water and making the seal between them slick and perfect.

The soft dark curls of her mound remained crushed against him. The plump outer lips stayed stretched wide around the thick root of his cock, framing the place where he disappeared completely into her.

Eventually the frantic edge of her internal clenching began to subside.

The tight ring of muscle at her entrance, which had been stretched almost to its limit around the base of him, gradually stopped trying to push him out and simply accepted the fullness.

Deeper inside, the soft, ridged walls that had never been opened like this started to mold themselves around the shape of his cock, learning the thick veins, the flared ridge of the head buried against her deepest point, the searing heat of him.

Veylara’s breathing against his mouth grew less panicked. A low, continuous sound... neither moan nor protest, something caught between the two... began to vibrate in her throat whenever he stroked his tongue particularly deeply against hers.

Only when he felt the last of the rigid shock leave her frame did Sol finally ease the intensity of the kiss.

He drew back just far enough to let them both drag in air, though he kept their foreheads pressed together and his cock buried to the hilt inside her.

Veylara’s eyes were darker than he had ever seen them... deep blue almost completely swallowed by black, as if he had reached the absolute depth of the ocean, where no light had ever reached.

Her lips were swollen and glistening. A faint, continuous tremor still ran through the strong muscles of her thighs where they framed his hips.

The full, soft weight of her breasts remained crushed against his chest, the thoroughly abused nipples dragging lightly across his skin with every uneven breath she took.

For a long moment neither of them spoke.

The only sounds were the soft lapping of the pond, the distant chirping of the nocturnal birds and insects far behind the trees, and the quiet, wet noise of her body adjusting around the thick cock that filled it completely.

Sol’s hands stayed locked on the strong curves of her ass, holding her firmly seated on him, making certain she felt every inch of the stretch she had just accepted. Inside her, the silken heat continued its slow, involuntary fluttering.

”Breathe,” he murmured against her mouth, voice rough with the strain. ”Just breathe. The worst of the stretch is over. Your body will adjust. I’ve got you.”

Veylara’s fingers flexed against his shoulders. When she finally answered, her voice was lower and far less steady than the Warchief’s usual command tone.

”...It’s... so much.”