As screwed as it was, I thought he might be right.

He released me and my head fell flat against the mattress. He fucked me slower then, with more control, and although I wanted another orgasm, I was too sore to even attempt to reach for it. Instead, I watched him closely. I wasn’t prepared for when he suddenly yanked my legs up and over his shoulders, bending at the waist, towering over me and the new angle made everything feel tighter, which in turn made me feel fuller. My lips parted along with the feeling and when I unconsciously clenched my pussy, Ettore involuntarily bucked into me. His brow held a sheen of perspiration as he growled out, “Jesus. Fuck. Baby, you’re so fucking tight. Do that again.”

I did. My body wrapped around his, tight as a glove, and he groaned loudly. “Are you on birth control?”

“No,” I breathed erratically.

“Good,” was all he said as he thrust into me harder and faster, moving me up higher on the bed. His skin slapped loudly against my own. His gaze turned hazy, he breathed out heavily through his nostrils and then, he muttered, “You want my cum, don’t you?”

“I do,” I cried and was surprised to find I meant it.

“My little slut wants her pussy filled.”

“Yes.”

“Here it comes,” he panted roughly before pushing forward and stilling inside of my sore, abused pussy. His voice turned strained when he ordered, “Take it, bitch.”

His cock began to flex and jerk inside of my stretched hole. His face turned pained as, spurt after spurt, he came inside of me. He groaned through it, his body turning rigid. I felt the wetness seep out of me and leak downwards, coating my asshole.

Ettore threw my legs down and fell forward, collapsing onto me. He was too strong, too heavy, but I reveled in his weight. I couldn’t stop myself from draping my arms around his back and gently running my fingertips along his damp spine. His semi-hard cock still inside of me.

He accepted my touch. In fact, I could have sworn he welcomed it.

We remained like that a long while. And after the tension was gone, Ettore lifted his head from the space between my breasts and blinked sleepily. And this was the first time I had seen him without ages of tension latent on his face. My stomach twitched. Without it, he looked younger. Freer.