Asshole destruction

The bedroom looked peaceful—sun through curtains and a half-full coffee mug going cold on the nightstand. I stared into the tiny gap between those two round cheeks like it was a sealed vault I’d been hired to crack. Felt almost polite asking. She wiggled. Permission enough. The first few inches I eased in slow, greedy. Once I popped past the ring everything else rushed to finish the job. Butts do not like reasoning with them. They beg, they fight, they give the fuck up. Hers gave up fast—red, puffy, flinching with each slap until every inch flared shiny and swollen like overripe fruit. I kept driving. Each thrust dragged a yelp out and made that sweet heat grip down tighter, like punishment and reward in the same heartbeat. Finally nothing left but pink flesh pulsing around my root. Nothing gentle stayed. It was wrecked, it was raw, and it was exactly the meal she’d ordered.