Raven looked down.

The blood was immediate.

Thin, bright red, running along the base of his cock where it met her entrance — the honest, visible evidence of what had just been crossed — spreading into the wet sheet below her hips in a slow, spreading stain.

Her pussy around him was nothing like the ass.

The ass was trained, learned, the grip of something that had been educated and retained the lessons. This was raw — the original, factory tightness of something that had never been worked, the walls clamping down around him with the reflexive, desperate force of muscle that had no framework for relaxation, squeezing him with the full, panicked strength of the untouched.

He grunted.

Low. Involuntary. The honest sound of a man whose body has just received information it found genuinely impressive.

"Tight." Not to anyone in particular. Just the word, exhaled. "Fuck."

Below him, Jennifer — exhausted, spent, her bound body barely capable of movement — was a warm weight against the bed. Her thighs flanking Yuna’s face. Her clit, swollen and marked with bite indentations from the involuntary clench of Yuna’s jaw at the moment of entry, standing erect and red against the hairy folds.

Her body had no more screams in it.

Just the wet, tired flutter of her cunt in the open air.

Just the small, continuous drip of the evening running down her thighs.

PAH!

"AAAHH~!! HIEEK~!! IT HURTS — RAVEN — IT HURTS—"

Yuna’s face ground into the sheet beside Jennifer’s thigh.

The tears were running.

Hot. Immediate. The specific tears of pain that arrive before anything else, before thought or decision — and she was crying and her body was shaking and she loved him and it burned and all of those things were happening at the same time in the same body with no clean separation.

He pulled back.

The drag of withdrawal — her walls clinging to the shape of him, not wanting to release, the tight grip holding every inch until the last — and then:

PAH!

"MMNNGH~!! STOP — PLEASE — TOO MUCH — RAVEN—"

Her hips rocked forward.

The impact drove her face sideways — her lips catching Jennifer’s inner thigh, her breath hitting the exposed, wet heat of Jennifer’s cunt in a warm gust — and Jennifer twitched, exhausted but responsive, a small, helpless sound escaping her.

"Hngh~—"

The blood was still coming.

Slow. Thin. Raven watched it run down the base of his cock with each thrust — red mixing with the clear wet of her arousal, his cock painted in both — and the visual was doing something to his rhythm.

He increased it.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!! N-no — too fast — RAVEN — I LOVE YOU — BUT IT HURTS — SLOW DOWN — PLEASE—"

Her ass clapped back with each thrust.

Not the heavy, practiced clap of Jennifer’s — the lighter, younger impact of hips that were still learning what this feels like, the taut ass bouncing off his thighs with the fresh, unmarked momentum of a body receiving its first real education.

His cock dragged against the torn denim still hanging from her left ankle.

The rough fabric catching the base of him on each withdrawal — the abrasive, textured pull of denim against wet, sensitive skin — and the combination: the virgin tightness of her pussy walls, the blood-warm slide of it, the scratch of her own ruined jeans against him—

He grabbed her breast.

Reached forward over her back, his torso dropping close, his hand finding the soft weight of it hanging beneath her — the full, young curve of it swinging with the rhythm — and squeezed.

She sobbed.

Not the sound of a person in distress.

The sound of a person overwhelmed — a sob with the texture of too much at once, pain and love and the specific, white-bright sensation of a body crossing something it cannot uncross — all occupying the same exhale.

PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

"AAANGHH~!! HNGH~!! MM—NNNGH~!! IT’S — HE’S SO — AAAHH~!!"

Her face found Jennifer’s cunt.

Not deliberate. The thrust drove her forward and her mouth landed on the soft, hairy, exposed heat of it — her lips pressing against the swollen folds — and she muffled her next cry directly against her aunt’s body.

The vibration of it traveled.

Jennifer’s hips twitched upward off the bed.

"Nnn~—" Exhausted. Barely voiced. The sound of a woman who has nothing left and whose body is producing responses without consulting her. "Nnh~—"

The hour did what hours do.

PAH! PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

"AAANGHH~!! HNGH~!! HIEEK~!!" — Yuna, her voice hoarsening with use.

"Mmph~— nnh~—" — Jennifer, below her, a continuous low undertone.

The sheet beneath them was wrecked.

The stain had spread — red and clear and white all layered, the evidence of everything that had happened in this bed tonight — and Yuna’s face was in it, her cheek against the warmth of it, and she had stopped caring about what she was lying in approximately forty minutes ago.

Her pussy had stopped burning the way it burned at the start.

’It still hurts.’

’But it’s—’

’It’s—’

She didn’t finish the thought.

Her hips were moving back.

Small. Honest. The backward press of a body that has started to understand the rhythm and is participating in it without being asked — her ass pushing into each thrust, her walls clenching around the withdrawal with the first, tentative grip of something learning what grip means.

She bit her lip.

She was muffling herself against Jennifer’s thigh.

Below her mouth — two inches, three — the swollen, marked clit of her aunt, red and bitten and still erect despite everything Jennifer’s body had been through today, and Yuna’s cries were landing against it in warm, shaking puffs of breath with every thrust.

Jennifer shivered.

"Mnh~—"

PAAAH!

"AAANGHH~!!" — Yuna.

"AAAHH~—" — Jennifer.

Both voices.

The room receiving them.

He was close.

She could feel it — the change in his pace from working to arriving, the deepening of each stroke, the extra weight behind the last few thrusts — and Yuna’s hand found the sheet and held.

Her pussy was fluttering.

The involuntary, rhythmic clench of walls that had spent an hour being worked and had arrived at something the owner of the body had not expected to arrive at — the pulse of her own building release moving through her in long, rolling waves.

’I’m—’

’I’m going to—’

PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

"AAANGHH~!! AAAHH~!! RAVEN — I’M — HNGH~!!"

His body leaned over hers.

His mouth at her ear.

The warm breath of a man who has been at this for an hour and is at the end of it.

"First cream pie," he said.

The words arrived just ahead of everything else.

He drove forward.

One thrust. Final. The full length of him seated at maximum depth, his balls pressing against her thighs, his cockhead at the wall of her — and then the release.

Thick.

Immediate.

The first wave of his seed painting the inside of her in one hot, flooding rush — the warmth of it spreading through her like something she had no existing framework for, the inside of her filling with the dense, unmistakable heat of him — and then another wave, and another, his hips rolling slowly forward with each pulse, pushing the load inward.

Her womb received it.

Blood and his seed mixed in the ruined, stretched passage of a girl who had been a girl forty-five minutes ago in a different way than she was now.

Yuna’s mouth opened against Jennifer’s thigh.

"I... I can feel my belly... bloating... Ahn~"