Sylvie, the Slave Girl (Lily Futa) - Chapter 43 (pt. 2)

Sylvie trembled uncontrollably.

They hadn’t done it in over a week.

Her tight pvssy had recovered, the c0ck’s size—thick and long—felt like their first time.

She struggled to take it.

The woman’s face showed frustration at the resistance, pain crossing her brow, but urgency drove her.

She pulled back slightly, then eased in halfway, fucking shallowly in that range.

The thrusts gradually made wet sounds.

Liquids secreted, her pvssy licking and biting the half-inserted c0ck, slowly opening up.

The thrusts deepened, going further until the entire c0ck entered.

The woman’s abdomen slapped her hips, making a sharp sound, her brow tinged with flush.

“Hmm…” Sylvie moans.

The c0ck moved quickly in her pvssy, scraping sensitive, fever-hot walls.

The tip hit her deepest spot repeatedly, drawing more slick, burning juices.

The sensation was… strange, hot enough to make her tremble.

“Ugh, hmm… Wei Qing… so deep…” Sylvie says.

The fever made her moans broken.

Tears flowed unconsciously from her burning eye corners.

Wei Qing touched her face, feeling like she might cry too.

“… Does it hurt?” she asks.

The burning girl squinted, her eyes filled with unfocused mist.

Her arms, like a drowning person clutching driftwood, gripped the woman’s clothes tightly, nails nearly digging into flesh.

She shook her head slowly.

“Dizzy… but I like it… I like Qing… Qing…” she says.

The thrusts brought deeper dizziness.

Sylvie’s head still spun, her body heavy like lead, but one sensation felt vividly clear—her pvssy, wet and soft, pounded by the c0ck.

She said these words many times before, perhaps not sincerely at first, using seductive intent to get the woman to fvck her more, to find pleasure and release desire on her body.

It was her only way to repay the woman.

But now it was different.

Her chest swelled with strange satisfaction.

The woman’s red-rimmed eyes saying she liked her made her heart leap, so full it might soar.

She wasn’t just needed for her body.

Her whole self was needed.

The woman’s palm rested on her waist, cooler than her skin, comforting.

Sylvie arched into it unconsciously.

The hand slid down her waistline, stopping at her butt, kneading firmly.

Sylvie tilted her head, staring at the ceiling.

Her fever-blurred vision swayed with each thrust.

The sensation inside her felt vivid.

She could distinguish every raised vein on the woman’s c0ck, the subtle curve of the crown grazing sensitive spots.

Pleasure surged like a tide, muted by the fever’s fog, lingering and slow.

Her ears caught the wet slaps and her cat-like whimpers and moans.

The woman’s panting brushed her ear.

She lightly squeezed Sylvie’s neck, her eyes’ corners charmingly flushed, wet and hot, merging with her body’s heat.

“Good girl,” Wei Qing says.

“I… I like you too,” she says.

“Like me a little more… and I’ll like you a little more, okay? Hmm?” she asks.

The woman’s thrusts quickened, the deep red, thick c0ck fucking her pvssy hard, making loud slaps.

The fever made Sylvie feel both sluggish and sharp.

She could smell the faint medicinal scent on the woman, mixed with salty sweat, amid the wet sounds and flesh colliding.

The tip crushed against her cervix, a sour fullness climbing her spine.

The bed creaked, their joining seeming to mist with white fog.

“Ah… ah…” Sylvie says, her voice weak but urgent.

Her orgasm hit fast and fierce, but the fever muddled her senses.

She didn’t realize she was nearing her peak until her body tensed abruptly.

God… I love her, I love this person so much, she thinks.