Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg - Chapter 17: First Stroke, Full Bloom

Joon-ho hovered over her, his cock heavy and pulsing at her entrance, slick from her orgasm and the slow trail of his tongue.

Harin lay beneath him, legs spread, hair a mess across the pillow, nipples flushed and firm, her cunt still twitching from her climax.

“You ready?” he whispered, voice low, breath warming her cheek.

She nodded, already breathless. “I want to feel everything.”

He smiled.

And pushed in.

Just the tip.

She gasped—sharp—as her body stretched around him. Her back arched. Her fingers gripped his shoulders. Her thighs trembled.

“Oh my god…”

“You’re tight,” he murmured, barely moving. “Fuck, Harin… you feel perfect.”

She whimpered.

He inched in further.Slow. Measured. Savoring every slick slide of her walls hugging him deeper.

“Too much?” he asked, lips grazing her temple.

“No—don’t stop,” she breathed. “It’s… so big. I feel—oh god—I feel so full…”

He bottomed out in one, final, deep press—hips flush against hers, cock buried to the hilt.

Her mouth fell open.

No words. Just trembling moans.

He held still, letting her body adjust, watching her face as she processed the stretch—the burn—the way her cunt clung greedily to him, refusing to let go.

“You okay?”

She nodded frantically. “I… I’ve never felt this before. You’re in me, everywhere—so deep, I can’t—ahh…”

“Breathe,” he whispered, brushing her hair back. “You’re doing perfect.”

Then he began to move.

Slow.

Long, deliberate strokes.

In and out, dragging every inch along her soaked walls, letting her feel it. Letting her melt beneath him.

She moaned louder with each thrust.

“Joon-ho… Joon-ho, I can’t—fuck—why does it feel this good?”

He kissed her jaw, whispered against her ear, “Because you’ve been waiting for me to fill you like this for years. You knew no one else could.”

She whimpered.

She clung to him.

Her voice broke into babbling gasps:

“Oh—oh god—so deep—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—Joon-ho—please—please—”

Her hips started rolling up to meet him.

Her walls clenched harder.

He growled, pace picking up—his slow control unraveling under her need. Each thrust came rougher now. Faster. Deeper. The wet slap of his hips echoed in the room.

She was falling apart.

Completely undone.

Her eyes were wild. Her mouth hung open, moaning helplessly with every stroke.

“Fuck me—fuck me harder—yes—don’t stop—don’t stop—yes—fuck yes—”

“Look at you,” he rasped, pounding into her now. “You needed this cock buried in your pussy since the lecture hall.”

She cried out.

“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“You—*you—*Joon-ho, it’s yours—it’s all yours—just don’t stop—please—cum in me—”

But he wasn’t done yet.

And neither was she.