The world returned in fragments—first the antiseptic sting in his nostrils, then the dull, throbbing ache radiating from his hip down his leg. Alex blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, his vision swimming until the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room solidified above him. A memory, sharp and brutal, sliced through the fog of painkillers: the screech of tearing metal, the violent jerk of his body against the seatbelt, the world flipping end over end before everything went black. His right hand twitched, fingers brushing against the rough weave of the hospital blanket, a pathetic attempt to reconnect with a body that no longer felt entirely his own.

A month later, the scent of bleach and despair had been replaced by the quiet, focused atmosphere of Dr. Elena’s physical therapy clinic. She stood over him, her short blonde hair gave her a pixie look, her expression one of unwavering professionalism as she guided his leg through a series of painfully limited stretches. “The scar tissue is extensive, Alex,” she said, her tone leaving no room for self-pity. “Traditional PT will only get you so far. I want you to see someone. A specialist in… a different kind of movement.” She handed him a crisp white business card. *Serenity Flow Yoga Studio. Sophia.* “She works miracles with cases like yours. Go see her. It’s not a suggestion.”

The studio was nestled on a quiet, tree-lined street, a world away from the clinical environment he’d grown accustomed to. The air inside was warm and heavy with the scent of sandalwood and something subtly floral. Soft, ambient music trickled from hidden speakers, mingling with the gentle rustle of someone moving in a nearby room. He stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, his posture stiff, his entire being was a cage of tension and resentment. Then she appeared. Sophia moved with a liquid grace that seemed to defy physics, her long, dark hair swaying like a silken curtain down her back. She wore simple leggings and a fitted racer-back top that accentuated a body that was both powerfully strong and undeniably supple as a little side boob was peeking out. Her eyes, dark and knowing, swept over him, not with clinical assessment, but with a deep, almost primal curiosity.

“Alex,” she said, her voice a low, melodic hum that vibrated right through the heart of his defenses. “Dr. Elena told me you’d be coming.” She didn’t offer a handshake, just continued that slow, appraising look that made the hair on his arms stand up. “You carry your accident not just in your hip,” she murmured, taking a step closer. The floral scent intensified, something like jasmine and warm skin. “You carry it in your shoulders, in the way you hold your breath. You’re braced for another impact.” Her gaze dropped to the slight tremor in his hand, then back to his eyes, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. “We can work with that.”

She guided him not to a mat in the main studio, but to a smaller, more private room dimly lit by salt lamps. The air was even warmer here, thicker. “Lie down,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. He complied, the soft floor cushioning his aching body. She knelt beside him, her presence an electric field. Her hands, when they first touched his thigh, were surprisingly cool. She began to work the knotted muscle with a firm, confident pressure that was somehow both clinical and intensely intimate. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the pain, on the stretch, on anything but the proximity of her. But then her touch shifted, became slower, more exploratory. Her fingers traced the line of his quad, then drifted higher, brushing against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. A jolt, pure and electric, shot through him.

“The body holds trauma in the most unexpected places,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. Her fingers didn’t retreat. Instead, they pressed down more firmly, palming the rigid length of him through the soft cotton. Alex’s breath hitched, he was hard in an instant, his cock swelling under her touch, the pain in his hip momentarily forgotten, replaced by a far more urgent, demanding throb. “We need to release this tension, Alex,” she purred, her other hand sliding up under his shirt to splay across his stomach, her thumb rubbing slow circles just above his waistband. “All of it.” Her fingers hooked into the elastic of his pants and slowly, deliberately, began to pull them down.

The fabric slid down his hips, exposing the full, aching length of his cock to the warm, lamplit air. It stood rigid and flushed, a thick vein pulsing visibly along its underside. Sophia’s dark eyes drank in the sight, her smile deepening with predatory satisfaction. "So much tension stored right here," she murmured, her cool fingers wrapping around his shaft, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. Precum already beaded at the tip, glistening in the soft light. She swiped her thumb over the slick head, spreading the moisture, her touch unbearably slow and deliberate.

Leaning down, her lips brushed the inside of his thigh, her breath hot against his sensitive skin. "Your body is starving for release, Alex. Let me feed it." Without warning, her mouth engulfed the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around the sensitive crown before sliding down his length. The wet heat of her mouth was shocking, overwhelming—a stark contrast to the clinical cold of every other touch he’d known since the accident. She took him deep, her throat relaxing around him until his cock hit the back of her mouth, and he could feel the vibration of her low, approving hum. Her hands gripped his hips, holding him still as she began to move, sucking him with a rhythm that was both demanding and expert.

When she pulled back, saliva glistened on her lips and his wet, throbbing dick. "Turn over," she commanded, her voice husky. "I want to see the rest of you." Hesitantly, he rolled onto his stomach, the movement sending a sharp twinge through his hip that was quickly overshadowed by the intensity of her gaze on his ass. Her hands spread his cheeks apart, and he shuddered as cool air hit his most private skin. "So tight," she whispered, her thumb tracing the tense ring of muscle. "So much stored here, too." Then her tongue was on him, licking a slow, wet stripe from his balls to his hole, and he cried out, his fingers digging into the mat beneath him.

She didn't stop there. Her tongue pressed insistently against his entrance, circling and probing until he was moaning openly, his hips pushing back against her face. "That's it," she encouraged, her voice muffled against his skin. "Let go. Give me all that pain, all that fear." One hand slid beneath him, fondling his balls, tugging gently before her fingers wrapped around his cock again, stroking him in time with the thrusts of her tongue. The dual sensation was maddening—the filthy, wet heat of her mouth on his ass and the firm grip on his dick, pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

When he was trembling and slick with sweat, she pulled away, rising to her knees. He heard the soft rustle of clothing, then felt her bare skin against his—the smooth warmth of her thighs bracketing his hips, the soft press of her tits against his back. She used her thighs to roll him over, he could feel her heat as he slumped over. Her hand guided his cock from laying on his stomach, still wet from her mouth and his own precum, downward toward her cunt. He was so hard that she could barely bend it. "Feel how ready I am for you," she breathed into his ear, and he could feel the slick heat of her folds against the head of his dick. She lowered herself onto him slowly, taking him inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside her. She was so fucking tight, so wet, her inner muscles clenching around him like a fist.

She began to move, rocking her hips in a slow, deep grind that made him see stars. Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure so intense they bordered on pain, erasing every memory of the accident, every twinge of his injury. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him harder, her breathing turning into ragged moans. "Fuck, Alex, your cock feels so good inside me," she gasped, one hand sliding around to rub her clit in frantic circles. "I want you to come deep in my cunt. Fill me up." The crude words, combined with the relentless rhythm of her hips, pushed him over the edge. With a guttural cry, he came, his orgasm tearing through him as he emptied himself inside her, his whole body shaking with the force of it. She followed moments later, crying out as her cunt clenched around him, milking every last drop from his throbbing cock.

She collapsed against his sweat-slicked chest, her breathing ragged as her inner walls continued to pulse around his still-hardening cock. Her lips found the nape of his neck, kissing and nipping at the damp skin there. "So much better than pain, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. She didn't pull away, instead staying connected to him as their heartbeats gradually slowed, her weight a comforting pressure that anchored him to the present moment rather than the memory of twisted metal.

After a long moment, she shifted, sliding off him with a wet sound that made his spent cock twitch. Turning onto his side, he watched as she rose with that same unnerving grace, her naked body glowing in the dim lamplight. She moved to a small basin in the corner, wetting a cloth with warm water. Returning to his side, she began cleaning him with slow, deliberate strokes—first wiping the sweat from his chest and stomach before moving lower to gently clean his softening cock and balls. The intimacy of the act was almost more shocking than what had preceded it. Her touch remained clinical yet tender, possessive.

"Your body remembers pleasure better than it remembers pain now," she said quietly, her dark eyes meeting his as she worked. "We've rewritten the first chapter." Finishing her task, she tossed the cloth aside and stretched like a cat, her breasts lifting into ovals of flesh with the movement before she settled beside him on the mat. Her fingers traced patterns on his stomach. "The tension in your hip is gone for now. I felt it release when you came." She smiled knowingly. "The body speaks its own language of healing."

She guided his hand to her own body then—first to her breast, where his palm cupped the soft weight while her nipple hardened against it. Then lower, over the flat plane of her stomach until his fingers were brushing through sparse damp curls and encountering the slick heat between her thighs. "Feel how you've affected me," she whispered against his mouth before capturing his lips in a deep kiss that tasted of sex and salt. His fingers explored her swollen folds instinctively, tracing her sensitive flesh until he found her clit—hard and throbbing beneath his touch.

She moaned into his mouth as he circled it slowly at first then with increasing pressure guided by every hitch in her breathing. Breaking the kiss, she watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he explored her pussy with growing confidence—sliding two fingers inside where she was still stretched and wet from taking him moments before. "Deeper," she gasped arching against his hand while one of hers wrapped around his wrist guiding him deeper still until his 3rd knuckle was just inside her. He could feel every intimate contour of her inner walls clenching around his fingers.

When he curled them just right finding that spot that made her cry out sharply nails digging into his forearm Sophia's hips began rocking in an unmistakable rhythm desperate for more friction more pressure more everything. He guessed as deep as she pushed 2 of his fingers and how into it she was he added a third finger stretching her further, watching fascinated as her face contorted in pleasure mouth open in silent screams before sound finally emerged—raw filthy words begging him to fuckherwithhisfingersharderfasteryesjustthereohgod. Her orgasm crashed over her suddenly violent shaking through her entire body soaking his hand with her release as she collapsed back against the mat trembling and breathless. After long moments she opened her eyes a small dazed smile playing on her swollen lips"You're a natural Alex" she whispered, her voice hoarse and sated, her slick inner walls still pulsing around his fingers. "Your hands know exactly what my body needs." She guided his wrist, making him slide his fingers out slowly, glistening with her release. Bringing his hand to her mouth, she sucked each digit clean with deliberate slowness, her tongue swirling around his knuckles before releasing him with a soft pop. "Taste what you do to me," she murmured, her eyes dark with renewed hunger. "Now I want to taste you again."

She pushed him back onto the mat, her movements fluid and possessive as she settled between his legs. His cock, which had softened slightly, began to thicken again under her intense gaze. She didn't rush, instead leaning forward to lick a slow, wet stripe from his balls all the way up his shaft, her tongue swirling around the head to collect the fresh bead of precum already forming there. "You recover quickly," she purred, wrapping her lips around him again, this time taking him deeper than before, her throat opening to accept his full length until his pubic bone pressed against her nose. He could feel every ridge of her palate, the constricting warmth of her esophagus, the vibration of her hum as she held him there, her eyes locked on his.

When she pulled back for air, saliva dripped from her chin onto his balls. "I want to feel you come down my throat," she rasped, her hand stroking him firmly while her mouth attended to his balls, sucking one then the other into the wet heat of her mouth, her tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive skin beneath. "I want to swallow every drop." She returned to his cock, bobbing her head with relentless rhythm, one hand cupping and gently squeezing his balls while the other reached between her own legs, her fingers working her clit in frantic circles as she sucked him. The wet, sloppy sounds of her mouth on his dick filled the small room, mingling with her muffled moans and his ragged breathing.

He could feel the pressure building again, a deep, coiling tension in his groin that threatened to unravel him. "Sophia, I'm gonna—" he managed to gasp, his hands tangling in her hair. She only took him deeper, her throat muscles fluttering around the head of his cock as she increased her pace, her fingers fucking her own pussy with desperate urgency. When he came, it was with a raw, guttural shout, his hips bucking off the mat as he emptied himself into her waiting throat. She swallowed around him, drinking him down in greedy gulps, her own orgasm crashing over her simultaneously—her body shaking, her juices coating her fingers as she cried out against his still-pulsing cock.

She stayed there for a long moment, lapping gently at his over sensitive tip until he twitched away, then crawled up his body to kiss him deeply, letting him taste himself on her tongue. "Your essence is potent," she whispered against his lips, her hand stroking his chest. "Full of life and fire." She settled beside him, one leg thrown over his, her fingers tracing the scars on his hip—the physical map of his accident. "The body remembers everything," she said softly. "But now it will remember this too. My mouth. Your release. The way we fit together."

Outside, the distant sound of traffic was a world away. Here, in the warm, scented darkness, there was only the rhythm of their breathing, the slick warmth where their bodies touched, and the profound, unspoken understanding that this was only the beginning. Sophia’s fingers continued their lazy exploration of his skin, mapping territory both familiar and new, while Alex stared up at the ceiling, his body humming with a strange new peace—the pain not gone, but momentarily silenced by something far more compelling.

Her fingers traced the angry red lines of scar tissue along his hip, her touch impossibly gentle yet electric, making his skin prickle with awareness. "These are just stories written on your skin," she murmured, her breath warm against his shoulder. "But the body can write new ones." She shifted, her naked form sliding against his, the damp warmth of her skin a stark contrast to the cool air of the studio. Her hand drifted lower, fingers combing through the coarse hair at the base of his softening cock, and he felt a fresh jolt of sensation—not quite arousal yet, but the promise of it, a low hum beneath the surface exhaustion. "Tomorrow," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear, "we begin with the yoga. Proper poses. Alignment. Breathing." Her fingers closed gently around him, not stroking, just holding his spent flesh with a possessiveness that made his breath catch. "I want to feel every muscle in your body awaken under my hands."

When he arrived the next afternoon, the studio was empty save for the two of them. The main room was flooded with soft, golden light, the hardwood floors polished to a warm glow. Sophia stood waiting for him in the center of the room, dressed in a simple, black tank top and leggings that clung to every curve of her lithe form. "Take off your shoes," she instructed, her voice calm and authoritative. "And your shirt. I need to see how you move. How you hold yourself." He complied slowly, feeling exposed and vulnerable as he stood before her in just his loose-fitting pants. She circled him like a predator assessing its prey, her dark eyes missing nothing—the slight hitch in his breathing, the way he favored his right side, the tension coiled in his shoulders. "The accident lives here," she said, her fingertips brushing the tight muscles of his lower back, making him flinch. "And here." Her hands slid up to his shoulders, her thumbs digging into the knots with a pressure that was both painful and relieving.

She guided him to a mat, her touch firm and sure as she positioned his body into a simple forward fold. "Breathe into the stretch," she murmured, her palm pressing gently between his shoulder blades, encouraging him to go deeper. He could feel the pull in his hamstrings, the familiar ache in his hip, but then her body was behind him, her front pressed flush against his back, her breasts soft against his spine. "Relax into me," she whispered, her arms wrapping around his torso, her hands splaying across his stomach. Her hips ground against his ass in a slow, subtle rhythm that was unmistakably sexual. "Let me support you." He could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of his pants, the hard points of her nipples against his skin, and despite himself, his cock began to stir, thickening against his thigh.

"Now, downward dog," she instructed, pulling away only to guide him into the next pose. As he positioned himself on hands and knees, she knelt behind him, her hands on his hips. "Arch your back," she said, her voice a low command. When he did, she pressed herself against him, her pelvis rocking into his ass, her clothed cunt grinding against him. "Good," she purred, one hand sliding from his hip to his inner thigh, her fingers tracing higher and higher until they brushed against the heavy swell of his balls through the fabric. "You're holding so much tension here." Her fingers pressed more firmly, cupping him, and he groaned, his arms trembling as he struggled to hold the pose. "Let it go, Alex. Surrender to the sensation." Her other hand crept around his hip, her fingers finding the hard length of his cock and stroking him through his pants with a slow, maddening rhythm.

She kept him there, teetering on the edge of pleasure and strain, for what felt like an eternity. Her body moved against his in a hypnotic rhythm, her breath hot on the back of his neck as she whispered explicit encouragement. "I can feel how hard you are for me," she breathed, her hand squeezing his cock. "I want to feel this thick cock inside me again. I want to ride you until you forget your own name." Her words sent a fresh wave of heat through him, and he pushed back against her, a silent plea for more. With a low laugh, she finally pulled away. "Enough for today," she said, her voice once again that of the serene instructor. "We'll continue tomorrow. Same time." She helped him to his feet, her hand lingering on the small of his back as she guided him toward the door. "Think about my mouth on your cock tonight," she whispered just before he stepped out into the cool evening air. "Think about how good it's going to feel when I make you come again."

The words hung in the air, a phantom caress that followed him all the way to his car. His cock, sore and spent just minutes before, gave a feeble but undeniable twitch in his pants, a Pavlovian response to the filth she’d whispered. That night, in the sterile quiet of his apartment, he did think about it. He lay in bed, his hand drifting beneath the sheets, but his own touch felt hollow and mechanical compared to the memory of her mouth—the wet, suctioning heat, the scrape of her teeth, the way her throat had opened for him. He fell asleep hard and aching, dreams fragmented with images of her black leggings stretching over her ass as she knelt behind him, the phantom sensation of her clothed cunt grinding against him.

The following afternoon, the studio felt different. It was charged, the very air humming with anticipation. Sophia was waiting, this time in a deep crimson sports bra and matching shorts so short the curves of her ass cheeks peeked out from the hem. She didn’t speak, just beckoned him forward with a curl of her finger. “Today,” she said, her voice a low vibration, “we work on opening the hips. The seat of your tension. The root of your pleasure.” She had him lie on his back, knees bent and feet flat on the mat. “Butterfly pose,” she instructed, guiding his soles together and letting his knees fall open. The stretch in his inner thighs and groin was immediate, a bright, pulling sensation along the scarred tissue of his hip. She knelt between his splayed legs, her hands pressing down on his inner thighs, forcing them wider. “Breathe into the resistance.”

He groaned, the stretch bordering on pain, but then her weight shifted. She leaned forward, her crimson-clad breasts pressing against the inside of his knees, and he felt the damp heat of her breath through his thin pants, right over his cock. “Such a stubborn body,” she murmured, her face inches from his groin. Her hands slid from his thighs up to his hips, her thumbs digging into the flexors. “You need to be persuaded.” With a deliberate slowness, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants and underwear and tugged them down to his mid-thigh, freeing his half-hard cock to the warm, incense-laden air. She didn’t touch it. Instead, she lowered her head, and he felt the wet, hot stroke of her tongue—not on his dick, but along the crease where his thigh met his torso, tracing the angry red scar tissue there. The sensation was shocking, intimate beyond measure. Her tongue was insistent, laving the damaged skin as if she could heal it with saliva and attention.

“Sophia,” he breathed, his hips lifting involuntarily. “Shhh,” she soothed, her mouth moving lower. Her tongue delved into the very root of him, licking a broad, wet stripe from his sacrum over his perineum, finally swirling around his balls. He cried out, his back arching off the mat. She sucked one testicle into her mouth, rolling it with her tongue, her hand coming up to cradle the other, her fingers applying a gentle, rhythmic pressure. All the while, his hips remained forced open by her position, vulnerable and exposed. When she finally took his cock into her mouth, he was fully, painfully hard, the head purple and leaking. She didn’t bob. She devoured him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth, deep swallow, her nose buried in his pubic hair. Her throat convulsed around him, a series of tight, milking pulses that made his vision blur. One of her hands remained on his inner thigh, holding him open, while the other snaked beneath her own body. He could hear the slick, rhythmic sound of her fingers working her own pussy, could see the muscles in her forearm flexing.

She pulled off with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening crown. “I’m so wet thinking about this cock splitting me open,” she panted, her eyes black with lust. She rose up on her knees, still between his splayed legs, and yanked her shorts to the side, exposing her pussy to him. It was glistening, her inner lips swollen and dark, her clit a hard, ruddy pearl. She didn’t guide him in. She simply lowered herself onto his shaft, letting the fat head of his dick nudge against her soaked entrance. “Watch,” she commanded, her voice trembling. He watched, mesmerized, as she sank down, her tight cunt stretching obscenely around his girth, swallowing him inch by agonizing inch until his pelvis was flush against her ass. She was impossibly tight, hot, and clenching. A guttural moan tore from his throat.

She began to move, riding him with a slow, deep grind that emphasized every ridge and vein of his cock. Her hands braced on his chest, her nails biting into his skin. “This is the pose,” she gasped, rolling her hips in a deliberate circle, milking him from the inside. “This is the alignment. My cunt sheathing your cock. Your body surrendering to mine.” She increased her pace, her ass slapping against his thighs, the wet, rhythmic sounds of their fucking echoing in the empty studio. One of her hands flew to her clit, rubbing frantic circles as she bounced on him, her breasts straining against the crimson fabric. “I can feel you throbbing inside me,” she screamed, her head thrown back. “I want your cum, Alex. I want you to flood my pussy. Fill me up!” Her words, the frantic clutch of her inner muscles, the sheer carnal spectacle of her riding him—it shattered his control. With a roar, he came, his orgasm erupting from him in violent pulses, his cock jerking as he pumped his release deep into her clutching heat. She screamed, her own orgasm triggered by the feel of his cum flooding her, her pussy clamping down on him in rhythmic spasms as she collapsed forward, her sweaty forehead resting against his chest, his still-pulsing cock buried to the root inside her.

They lay tangled together on the mat, her hot, sweaty weight a welcome anchor as their breathing slowly returned to normal. He could feel his own cum beginning to leak from her, a warm trickle that pooled between their bodies where they were still joined. Her inner muscles gave one last, gentle squeeze around his softening cock, and he groaned softly at the oversensitive sensation. "Shhh," she murmured against his chest, her lips brushing his skin with each word. "Just breathe through it. Let your body absorb the release." Her hand drifted down between them, fingers sliding through the slick mess of their coupling before pressing gently against his spent cock still buried inside her. "Every drop is medicine," she whispered, rocking her hips infinitesimally, making him twitch within her heated depths.

After a long moment, she finally rose, his cock slipping from her with a wet sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. She didn't move away though—instead she knelt between his splayed legs, her gaze fixed on where his cum was now dripping from her swollen pussy lips onto the mat beneath them. "Look what you've done to me," she breathed, spreading her labia with two fingers from each hand, to show him the glistening white pool deep inside her. Leaning forward, she brought her face inches from his own slickness, inhaling deeply. "You smell incredible on me." Her tongue darted out, not to clean herself but to gather a thick strand of their mixed fluids on her finger, which she then brought to his lips. "Taste us," she commanded, and he opened his mouth without hesitation, the salty-sweet flavor exploding on his tongue as she pressed her finger deep into his mouth.

The taste seemed to ignite something primitive in them both. With a growl, he surged upward, catching her by the hips and flipping her onto her back in one surprisingly fluid motion—his injured hip protesting briefly before being overridden by sheer lust. She gasped in delighted surprise as he loomed over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other roughly spread her thighs wider. "I'm not done with this cunt," he growled, lowering himself between her legs. His cock, miraculously hard again despite having just emptied itself moments before, nudged against her slippery entrance. "You're still so fucking wet for me," he muttered against her neck before biting down on the tender skin there as he thrust into her in one brutal stroke.

She screamed—a raw sound of pure pleasure—as he filled her completely, stretching muscles already tender from their previous fucking. "Yes! God yes! Fuck me harder!" she begged, bucking beneath him as he set a punishing rhythm from the start. Each thrust drove the breath from her lungs in sharp gasps that turned into moans as he angled himself to hit that spot deep inside that made her see stars. The wet slap of their bodies meeting echoed off the studio walls—a lewd counterpoint to their ragged breathing and filthy encouragements. "Your cock feels even bigger this time," she panted; nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks as she wrappedher legs aroundhis waist pulling him deeper still with every thrust.

He could feel another orgasm building—a tighter more intensecoiling inhis balls thistime fueled bythe raw carnality oftheir fucking.Her pussy wasclenchingaroundhimin rhythmic pulsesas iftrying tomilk anotherloadfromhim already.Hebent hisheadto capture anipple throughthe dampfabricofher sportsbra suckinghard asthrustintothewetslickheatofher."I'mgonnacuminsideyouagain"hegrowledagainstherbreast histeethgrazingthehardened peak."Fillthis greedycuntupuntilitsoverflowing."

"Yes! Do it! Flood me!" she screamed;her head thrashing side to side asher own orgasm began tobuild.Herhandsnakedbetweenthem;fingersfindingher clitandrubbingfrantic circlesashissharpthrustsmadeher wholebodyjoltwith eachimpact."I canfeel yougettingharder—feel yourballs tightening!"shemoaned;hereyeswildwithlustashelookeddownatwheretheir bodiesjoined watchinghiscockplungein andoutofherslick;stretchedopening."GiveittomeAlex!Give meallyourcum!"

Withafinal brutalthrust that buriedhisto theroot;he roared outhisrelease;pumpingjetafterjetofhotsemen deepintoher clutchingcunt.Her screamjoinedhis asshe cameviolently;herpussymilkinghimevenashecame;pullingeverylastdropfromhimuntilhecollapsedon topofherspentandtrembling.They laytherepanting;stickywith sweatandcum;theairthickwiththesmelloftheirsextheonlysoundtheirgraduallyslowingheartbeats.Sophia'shandscameuptostrokehisdamp hair;"Perfect"shemurmured;"Soperfectmybeautifulbrokenboy."

Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, holding him against her breast as their bodies cooled in the aftermath. She shifted beneath him, a slow, deliberate movement that made his softening cock slip from her well-used cunt with a wet, messy sound. "Stay inside me," she murmured, her thighs tightening around his hips to keep him close even as he softened. "I want to feel you leaking out of me for hours." Her hand slid between them, fingers gathering the thick, white cum that was already spilling from her stretched opening, and she brought it to her lips, sucking her fingers clean with a low hum of pleasure. "Every drop is sacred," she whispered against his ear, her breath hot. "Your essence healing me as much as I heal you."

She guided his head down between her thighs, her strong legs wrapping around his shoulders. "Taste what we made together," she commanded, her voice husky with renewed desire. He needed no further encouragement, burying his face in her slick, swollen folds. Her cunt was a mess of their combined fluids—the tang of his cum mixing with her own sweet arousal, the musky scent of their sweat and sex thick in the air. His tongue delved deep, lapping at her entrance, gathering the thick white spend that still pooled inside her. She moaned, her hips lifting off the mat to grind against his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Yes, lick me clean," she gasped, "suck every last drop from my pussy." He obeyed hungrily, his tongue working over her sensitive flesh, probing into her depths to retrieve his own release, then swirling around her engorged clit until she was shuddering beneath him, her thighs trembling around his head.

When she finally pushed him away, her eyes were dark with renewed hunger. "On your knees," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. He moved slowly, his body aching in the best way, every muscle loose and satisfied yet already stirring with fresh need. She positioned herself behind him, her naked body pressing against his back, her hands roaming over his chest and down his stomach until her fingers wrapped around his cock, which was already thickening again under her touch. "You're mine," she whispered against his spine, her teeth grazing his skin. "This cock belongs to me now." She guided him backward, until he was kneeling, and then she lowered herself onto him, taking his length into her from behind in one smooth, wet slide.

Her cunt was still loose and slick from their previous fucking, but the angle was new—deeper, hitting places inside her that made her cry out with each thrust. Her hands gripped his hips, her nails digging into his skin as she set a brutal pace, riding him with abandon. "Fuck, you feel so good like this," she moaned, her ass slamming against his thighs with each downward plunge. "I can feel you so deep—right against my cervix." One hand slipped around to rub her clit in frantic circles, while the other reached back to grasp his balls, rolling them in her palm, squeezing just enough to make him groan with a mix of pleasure and pain. "I'm going to milk this cock dry," she panted, her inner muscles clenching around him rhythmically, as if trying to pull another orgasm from him already.

He reached back, his hands finding her hips, and took control, driving up into her with sharp, punishing thrusts that made her scream his name. The sound echoed off the studio walls, mingling with the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies meeting. "You love this, don't you?" he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Love having your cunt stretched wide open, filled with my cum." She could only nod, her words lost in another cry as he hit a spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. "Tell me," he demanded, slowing his thrusts to a maddening grind, making her feel every inch of him. "Tell me how much you love my cock in your greedy pussy."

"I love it," she gasped, her body trembling around him. "I love your fat cock splitting me open, fucking me raw. I want you to come in me again—fill me up until I'm dripping." Her words pushed him over the edge, and with a roar, he came, his release pumping into her in hot, endless pulses. She followed him over, her own orgasm tearing through her, her cunt clamping down on him so tightly he saw stars. They collapsed together onto the mat, a tangled, sweaty heap, his cock still buried inside her as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Her whisper was a warm vibration against his sweat-slicked skin, her fingers still tangled in his hair. For a long moment, they simply breathed together, the weight of his spent body a comfortable anchor. Then, with a soft sigh, she began to move beneath him, her hands sliding down to his hips. “I need more of your healing,” she murmured, her voice thick with a new kind of hunger. “The deepest tissues… they require a more direct application.” Her hands guided him off her, his softening cock slipping free with a wet, messy sound that made her smile. She rolled onto her stomach, presenting the perfect, pale curves of her ass to him. She glanced back over her shoulder, her dark hair a silken curtain. “This… I haven’t done this in a very long time,” she said, a false note of hesitancy in her voice. “Be gentle with me, Alex.”

He knelt behind her, his gaze fixed on the tight, pink pucker between her ass cheeks. It was glistening, already slicked with the sweat and the residual wetness from her cunt that had dripped down. He leaned forward, his thumbs spreading her cheeks wider, and blew a soft breath across the sensitive hole. It clenched prettily in response. “It’s so tight,” he breathed, more to himself. He lowered his head, ignoring her pretended inexperience, and pressed his tongue flat against her anus, licking a broad, wet stripe from her perineum up to the base of her spine. She gasped, her back arching, a shudder running through her. “Oh… oh, that’s…”

He didn’t let her finish. His tongue became a point, spearing insistently against the tight ring of muscle. It resisted for a moment, then yielded, allowing the very tip of his tongue to breach her. The taste was musky, intimate, wholly different from her cunt. He fucked her ass with his tongue in shallow, probing strokes, feeling the incredible heat of her inner channel, listening to her moans turn into broken pleas. “Please… yes… just like that.” One of his hands slid beneath her, two fingers finding her swollen, dripping pussy and sliding inside easily, curling upward to stroke her G-spot in time with the thrusts of his tongue. She came suddenly, a sharp, sobbing cry tearing from her throat as her asshole clenched rhythmically around his invading tongue, her cunt gushing around his fingers.

When she finally stilled, panting into the mat, he sat back on his heels. His cock, which had softened, was now a hard, aching length against his stomach, dripping a steady string of precum. He spat into his palm, mixing his saliva with her juices and the slick from her ass, and coated himself thoroughly, the head of his dick glistening and purple. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, his voice rough, as he positioned himself at her entrance. He pressed the broad crown against her pucker, feeling the intense resistance. “Breathe out, Sophia,” he instructed, echoing her own words back to her.

She exhaled in a long, shuddering sigh, and he pushed forward. The head of his cock began to sink into the impossibly tight ring of muscle, stretching it wide around his girth. It was a burning, relentless pressure, a fullness so profound it stole the air from his lungs. She whimpered beneath him, a sound he almost believed was genuine—until he was halfway in. Then, with a sudden, shocking intensity, the muscles of her rectum came alive. They didn’t just accept him; they seized him. A rippling, milking clamp of pure muscle strength locked down on his

Yoga of Ecstasy