I stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her—naked, flushed, beautiful.
"You sure about this?" I asked, giving her one last out.
She looked up at me, her eyes clear and certain. "I'm sure."
"A'ight then," I said, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside.
Her eyes widened as she took in my bare chest—the tattoos, the muscles, the scars.
"You're staring," I said, smirking.
"You're... a lot," she admitted.
"You ain't seen nothin’ yet."
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my joggers and pulled them down along with my boxer briefs. My dick sprang free, already hard and leaking precum.
Synthia's eyes went wide. "Oh my God."
"Yeah," I said, stroking myself slowly. "Still sure?"
She swallowed hard but nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure."
I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself between her legs. "We'll go slow," I promised. "If it hurts, you tell me. Understood?"
"Understood," she whispered.
I leaned down to kiss her—soft, reassuring—while my hand reached between us to guide myself to her entrance.
"Breathe," I instructed as I began to push inside.
She gasped, her body tensing at the intrusion.
"Relax," I murmured against her lips. "I got you."
Inch by inch, I worked my way inside her tight heat, pausing every few seconds to let her adjust.
"Fuck, you're tight," I groaned, fighting the urge to just slam home.
"You're huge," she whimpered, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"You're doing so good, baby," I praised. "Just a little more."
Finally—finally—I was fully seated inside her. We both froze, breathing hard, letting the moment settle.
"You okay?" I asked.
She nodded, her eyes watery but determined. "Yeah. You can move."
I pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, setting a gentle rhythm. With each thrust, she loosened up, her body accommodating mine, her moans turning from pained to pleasured.
"There you go," I murmured. "See? You can take it. Look at you takin’ this dick like a good girl."
"Romelo," she gasped, her legs wrapping around my waist. "Harder."
"You sure?"
"Please."
