#26247 - . The visceral, guttural grunting she hears over her shoulder now, in this position, the straining muscles in my arms, and my cheek rubbing the nape of her neck with a moan, are all the hints she has that I know a moment of real eroticism -- that there is a time when I need to be inside her more than I need to be my own man. The line is blurring again with my whispered reassurances, and as I slip past her inner ring the pain dissipates, leaving pleasure in its wake.
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