You don’t just get to fuck me. You get obliterated. I’ll take every inch like I’m starving for it—back arched, ass up, face buried in the mattress while I scream your name into the fabric. My body will quake, drip, clench around you like it’s trying to keep you forever. You’ll lose track of how many times I’ve come, how many times I’ve begged, how many times you’ve sworn you’re about to break—and then you’ll keep going anyway. Until the room disappears. Until the only reality left is my soaked, pulsing heat swallowing you whole and the sound of me unraveling beneath you. I'M IN SOUTH B SANASANA