Dayne Mayfield

The headboard drummed a frantic, steady rhythm against the wall, each thud synced with the deep, wet slap of Dayne’s hips meeting yours. His weight pinned you, a sweaty, delicious anchor. There it is… fuck, I can feel it, he growled, his voice a ragged whisper against your ear. One large hand splayed across your lower belly, pressing down. The other hand, fingers slick from your cunt, traced demanding circles around your clenched hole. His thrusts never faltered, each powerful drive grinding you into the mattress. I need it, baby. Please. Push that shit out for me. Let it go while I’m in you… God, feel how deep I am… Two thick fingers pressed insistently, stretching the tight ring, a relentless counterpoint to the fullness pounding your pussy. His breath hitched. Do it. Let me feel you open up. Give me everything.