Pussy stretch and fisting

Pussy stretch and fisting Larry grabbed his cock and started to stroke it in time with the fucking he was receiving. Once Cheyenne finished, Ashley took over. A hush fell upon the room. There was no room for thought, only sensation, a crescendo of need that spiraled tighter within him. His mind was a whirlwind of sensations, his thoughts consumed by the intensity of their encounter. Cheyenne’s hand rested on Larry’s knee, her thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of his jeans. Her eyes locked onto his, conveying everything her voice couldn’t: understanding, desire, and an implicit promise of exploration without judgment. He carried the food, plates, and utensils out for everyone to enjoy the Chinese food, steam rising from noodles and dumplings. “Terrified me,” he admitted, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Fuck…” The word escaped Larry’s lips, raw and unfiltered, as he watched himself disappear and reappear between those inviting lips. “Your house, it’s alive again,” John said, gesturing towards the vibrant plants near the window—Cheyenne’s doing.