Chapter 3: The Descent
She held the drawing in both hands, the charcoal lines still vivid, still hers. The paper trembled slightly in the heat-shimmered air. She looked from Barry's exact, unflinching rendering of her posing with Knox's cock, back up to the man himself, lying on her towel with that quiet smile, his cock still slick and red against his belly.
The decision came easy. It settled in her chest like a stone dropping into still water.
She set the drawing aside carefully. Then she turned.
Knox watched her move, his eyes tracking her like a hawk watches a mouse cross a field. She crawled up his body, her hands planting on his chest, her knees bracketing his hips. The heat of his skin radiated up through her thighs. His cock stood between them, thick and jutting, almost touching the underside of her stomach.
"There you are," he said softly.
Anji appeared at her side, kneeling in the sand. The wide-brimmed hat was gone, tossed somewhere behind them, and her black hair spilled over her shoulders. Her dark eyes were bright, wolfish. She reached out and brushed a strand of wet hair from Rhea's face.
"Look at you," Anji murmured. "You're shaking."
"I know."
"That's the good kind of shaking."
Rhea's hands pressed flat against Knox's chest. She could feel his heartbeat under her palms, slow and steady, a drumbeat that did not match her own desperate rhythm. Her knees gripped his hips. Her slick folds brushed against the base of his cock, and the contact made her gasp.
He was so thick. She could feel the width of him against her, even just resting there, even with only the barest pressure. Her body clenched at the promise of him and the impossibility of it, all at once.
"How do you want to do this?" Knox asked. His hands rested on her thighs, loose, watching.
"I don't know." Her voice cracked. "I don't know if I can."
"You can." Anji leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a murmur meant only for Rhea's ear. "You've been thinking about this since you saw him. I watched you stare at his cock from across the beach. You thought I didn't notice, but I did. You want it in you. You want to feel it split you open."
"I do." The words came out a whisper.
"Then take it," Anji said. "Slow. Your body'll open for him. It always does." She reached out, and her hand closed around the base of Knox's cock, lifting it, angling it up toward Rhea's entrance. "He's big, baby. Bigger than anything you've had. But you're going to give him everything you've got."
Rhea looked down. From this angle, his cock looked impossibly thick. She could see the veins running along the shaft, the heavy crown glistening with her spit and his precum. Anji held it steady, her thumb stroking a single line along the underside.
"Get your knees wider," Anji instructed.
Rhea shifted, her knees sliding down his thighs, spreading herself open. She felt the wetness of her own desire coat her inner thighs. Her pussy lips parted, slick and swollen, and she hovered, trembling, over the crown of his cock.
Knox was silent. His hands had not moved. His eyes were fixed on the place where her body hovered over his, watching with a hunger that made her clench again.
"Now," Anji said. "Slow, sweetheart. Just the head."
Rhea lowered herself.
The first contact was electric. The fat, flared crown pressed against her opening, and her body seized, muscles clenching against a width she could not believe was about to enter her. She gasped, her nails digging into Knox's chest.
"Relax," Anji murmured. "Breathe."
She breathed. The pressure eased, just a fraction. She bore down, and the head pushed past the ring of her entrance.
Pain bloomed, bright and sharp. She cried out, a small wounded noise, and her hips bucked up instinctively.
"Shh." Knox's voice finally came, low and rough. His hand moved to her hip, steadying her, not pushing, just holding. "You're doing good. Take your time."
The head was inside her. She could feel it, the impossible stretch of her walls around the crown, the pulse of his blood through the flesh buried in her. She sat there, trembling, weeping softly, her body trying to accommodate a width that made no sense.
"More," Anji coaxed. "Just an inch, baby. Take another inch."
Rhea lowered herself again. Another inch gave way, and a whimper tore from her throat. Her spine arched, her head fell back, and the sun burned her exposed throat. She felt every ridge of his cock as he dragged deeper, the sensation overwhelming, too much and not enough.
"This is it," Anji breathed. "Look at you. Look at how much you're taking."
Rhea looked down. She could see the place where her body joined his, her pale skin stretched obscenely around the dark shaft. She had taken maybe three inches of him. The rest still rose from his body, thick and proud, untouched.
"Jesus," she gasped. "I can't."
"You can." Anji's voice was fierce now. "You're going to take every inch of him, and you're going to love it. Now sink."
Rhea sank.
Her body surrendered with a wet, obscene sound. Her thighs trembled, her toes curled in the sand, and she took another inch, then another. The stretch was blinding, a white-hot ring of fire that spread from her core to her spine. She was so full. Fuller than she had ever been. She felt his cock pressing deep against her core, and a low, feral sound escaped her throat.
"No," Knox ground out, and his hands clamped on her hips. "That's enough for now."
Rhea hung there, impaled, gasping. Her thighs burned. Her arms shook. She felt tears on her cheeks, hot and shameful. A thin, wet line of spit and sweat dripped off her chin.
"I want more," she said. Her voice was small, but it was true.
Knox's eyes widened. Something dark and pleased moved through his face. His grip on her hips tightened.
"Ask me properly," he said.
"Please." Her voice cracked. "Please, Knox. I want you to fuck me."
The crowd made a sound like a wave. Rhea felt the weight of their eyes on her, strangers and friends alike, watching her hang off the giant's cock like a bead on a string. She felt the heat of their stares, the weight of their desire, and it burned through the shame like a lit fuse.
Knox's hands slid down to her ass, cupping the cheeks, spreading her open. His thumbs traced the rim of her entrance, already stretched to its limit.
"Get ready," he said.
Get ready was all the warning she got.
Knox's hips rolled off the sand and drove upward in one smooth, brutal motion. The crown of his cock punched deeper inside her, spreading her walls with a wet, obscene sound that carried over the murmuring crowd. Rhea's spine bowed. A cry tore from her throat, raw and animal, and her nails raked furrows across his chest.
"Don't stop," she gritted out. Her teeth were clenched so hard her jaw ached. "Don't you fucking stop."
Knox froze. His eyes found hers, dark and questioning, reading the truth in her face. Her body was shaking, tears still wet on her cheeks, but her hips had already started to move on their own, grinding down against him, taking another inch.
"I won't," he said.
He drove up again. The sound her body made was lewd and wet, a squelch that carried over the sand. Another inch of him buried itself inside her, then another, his shaft disappearing into her pale, stretched flesh. She felt the heavy ridge of his cock pressing deep against her core, felt the impossible width of him forcing her body to open around him. Her hips bucked, desperate, and she took him.
The crowd surged forward. The ring of onlookers tightened, bare bodies pressing closer, a low murmur rising like the tide. Someone shouted, a wordless whoop of encouragement. Someone else clapped. Rhea heard it all through the roaring in her ears.
"Look at her," Anji said. Her voice came from close, right at Rhea's ear, fierce and reverent. "Look at you taking him. You're over halfway."
Rhea looked down. The place where her body joined his was a study in violence and impossible accommodation. Her pale lips stretched thin and red around the dark shaft, gripped like a fist. The thick head of him had punched deep, and she could see the bulk of his length still waiting below, gleaming, slick with her.
Something broke open in her chest. A laugh, or a sob, or both. It came out as a strangled sound, half desperate, half elated.
"Fuck," she gasped. "Fuck me. Fuck me, Knox, don't stop, I want it all—"
He gave her what she asked for. His hips pistoned up into her, a deep, brutal rhythm that jarred her spine with every thrust. The sound of their bodies meeting was wet and obscene, a slap of flesh that echoed off the dunes. Rhea's thighs burned. Her arms shook. She clung to him like a drowning woman, her small body bouncing on the length of his cock with every drive of his hips.
"More," she demanded. A sob, a plea. "More, more, more, don't you dare stop—"
He didn't. His hands closed over her ass and he drove her down onto him at the same time he thrust up, burying himself to the root. She felt the thick base of his cock press against her stretched lips, felt the weight of his balls against her inner thighs, and for one suspended moment she was completely full, impaled, every inch of him inside her.
Her vision went white. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and the crowd around them erupted. Cheers, laughter, a wild scattered applause.
A dark-skinned woman with long dreadlocks stepped through the ring of onlookers, a man trailing behind her with a camera held at chest height. She was tall, half a head taller than Anji, and she moved with an easy, unhurried grace that made the sand look deliberate. Her eyes swept the scene once, taking in Rhea impaled on Knox's cock, and a slow smile spread across her face.
She leaned into Anji and spoke low. Anji's head turned, following the woman's gaze to Rhea, then back. She rose from the sand and came closer, brushing a hand along Rhea's slick shoulder.
"Rhea," Anji said. "This is Sarah. She and her friend Marek want to take some pictures. They promise to keep your faces out of them."
Sarah held up her hands, open and empty, then gestured to the man behind her. He raised the camera, a heavy black body with a long lens, and inclined his head. His face was open, sunburned, eager.
Rhea looked at Knox. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, his hands still gripping her ass. His cock was buried inside her to the root, and she could feel the pulse of him against her deepest walls, the pressure of him a constant, stretching ache.
"Yeah," she said. Her voice came out hoarse.
Knox grunted. "Fine."
Marek moved into position, circling them at a crouch. The camera clicked and whirred, a sound alien on the beach, and then again. Sarah slipped past him, barefoot, and knelt in the sand close enough for Rhea to smell her perfume. She brought a small silver camera up to her eye.
"You're doing so well," Sarah said, voice soft, directed at Rhea through the lens. "Don't mind us. Just keep going."
Keep going. The words landed somewhere deep in Rhea's chest. She rolled her hips, a slow, grinding circle against the base of Knox's cock, and felt the stretch shift inside her, the crown dragging along her walls. The cameras clicked.
"How's your grip on her?" Marek asked, his voice pitched low, almost apologetic. "Could you hold her up? Show how small she is against you?"
Knox's hands slid from her ass to her waist. He gripped her with both palms and lifted, raising her off his lap until only the crown of his cock still split her open. The stretch pulled at her, a bright white ache, and she gasped. He held her there, suspended, and Sarah let out a low, reverent sound from behind the lens.
"Beautiful," she murmured. "Hold that."
Rhea dangled from his hands, her feet clearing the towel by a foot, her body a pale, trembling thing against the bulk of him. The cameras captured it from every angle. She felt the heat of their focus like a second sun.
"Put me back," she said. It came out as a demand, desperate and raw.
Knox lowered her. The crown pushed back into her, and the stretch bloomed again, wet and obscene. She dropped fully onto him with a choked cry, her hips finding a rhythm immediately, bouncing on his cock as he thrust up to meet her. The slap of their bodies was loud, relentless, punctuated by the click and whirr of cameras.
Sarah moved closer, her lens fixed on the place where they joined, where Rhea's pale flesh stretched impossibly around the dark column of him. Marek stayed wide, capturing the scale of it, the tiny woman impaled on the giant.
"You look so full," Sarah said, low, conversational. "How does that feel? Tell me, so I can feel it too."
Rhea's answer came out in pieces between thrusts. "So full. Fuck. I can't. I can't believe how full I am."
"His cock's bigger than your arm, isn't it?"
"Yes," Rhea gasped. Knox's hips snapped up and she cried out, her nails digging into his chest. "Yes, it is. It's bigger than anything I've ever had."
"Good girl." Sarah's voice was warm, praising. "Look at you taking it. Every inch."
Knox's eyes locked on the camera, then on Sarah. "That's enough questions," he said. His voice was sandpaper. "She's busy."
Sarah smiled, lowered her camera, and let the strap settle around her neck. "Of course. Sorry." She stepped back into the crowd, and Marek followed, still shooting over his shoulder.
Rhea's hips slammed down against Knox's, and she felt the base of his cock press flat against her, felt him buried to the hilt. Her mouth hung open, a line of spit tracking down her chin. The sun burned her back. The cameras kept clicking.
The cameras clicked on. The crowd closed in tighter. Rhea barely registered any of it. Her whole world had narrowed to the impossible fullness inside her, the thick column of him stretching her from within, the slow pulse of his blood against her deepest walls.
She rolled her hips. A slow, grinding circle, pressing down against the base of him. The motion dragged the crown along her inner walls, and she felt it, every ridge, every vein. Her mouth fell open, and a low sound escaped her, halfway between a moan and a whimper.
Knox's hands tightened on her waist. "You're grinding on me," he said. His voice was rough, strained.
"I know." She did it again, slower this time. The stretch shifted, and she felt the head of him press against a spot that made her entire body clench. "God. You're so deep."
"You're so tight." His hips twitched beneath her, an involuntary roll. "I can feel every inch of you squeezing around me."
She rode him like that for a minute. Two. Just grinding, slow and deliberate, feeling the shape of him inside her, the weight and the width. Her thighs shook with the effort, but she kept going, her hands flat on his chest, her head tipped back, the sun turning her freckles to gold.
Anji said something, but Rhea didn't hear it. Sarah's camera clicked. Marek circled.
Then Rhea opened her eyes and looked down at him. Her gaze was clear, steady, certain.
"I'm ready," she said. "I want you to really fuck me now. No more holding back."
Knox's eyes flashed. "You sure? Because once I start—"
"I'm sure." She pushed up off his chest, her hands pressing into his abs. She lifted herself, and the head of his cock dragged along her walls, a slow, burning pull. She rose until the crown was the only thing still inside her, stretched around it, clinging. Then she pulled off completely with a wet, obscene sound.
His cock sprang free, slick and red, glistening with her. It stood thick and proud against his belly, trailing a thin strand of wetness. Knox's jaw tightened at the sudden emptiness. He reached for her, but she was already moving.
Rhea turned. She planted her hands in the sand beside his hips, and she dropped to her knees.
She got on all fours. Her tiny ass lifted up in the air, her back arching into a deep, perfect curve. Her pussy was slick and swollen, visibly gaped from what she had just taken, a wet pink oval that pulsed in the heat. She pressed her cheek to the sand and looked back at him over her shoulder, her green eyes bright, her hair tangled around her face.
"Fuck me," she said. "Like this. From behind. And don't go easy."
The crowd surged closer. A ring of bare bodies pressed in around them, heat radiating off their skin. Sarah let out a low, reverent whistle. Anji laughed, breathless.
Knox moved. He rose to his knees behind her in a single fluid motion, his huge body blocking out the sun. Rough hands landed on her hips and dragged her backward, pulling her ass against his thighs. The head of his cock pressed at her entrance, thick and blunt, and she felt him paused there, waiting.
"You're going to feel this," he said.
"I want to feel it." She pushed back against him, the crown sinking just past her lips. The stretch bloomed again, white-hot and blinding. She cried out, but she didn't pull away. "God, yes. Knox, please. Please, please, please."
He gave her what she wanted.
He drove forward in one long, brutal thrust. The width of him punched through her, spreading her walls, and she felt the base of his cock slam flat against her ass. Buried to the root. She screamed, her fingers clawing trenches in the sand, her whole body shaking.
"Look at that," someone breathed. Anji, or Sarah, or some stranger. She couldn't tell. "Look at him split her open."
Knox pulled out. The head dragged along her walls, and she felt the emptiness for one aching moment, a void that throbbed. Then he slammed back in, and she was full again, impossibly, completely full.
"That's it," he grunted. "Take it. Take all of it."
He set a rhythm. Deep, punishing, relentless. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, and he pulled her back onto him with every thrust, driving himself to the root. The sound of their bodies meeting was loud and wet, a slap that echoed off the dunes.
Rhea sobbed with each impact. The stretch was blinding. The fullness was overwhelming. But she pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, her small body bouncing on the length of his cock. The sand scraped her knees and her palms, and she didn't care.
"More," she gasped. "Fuck. More."
Knox drove in harder. His hips pistoned against her, jarring her spine with every impact. She felt his fingers dig into her flesh, felt his balls slap against her inner thighs, felt the impossible, endless stretch of him filling her again and again.
The cameras clicked. The crowd cheered. The sun burned down on them, and Rhea hung her head and took him, loving every impossibly thick inch.
She hung her head, took him, loved it. But something was off. The fullness was perfect, the stretch was blinding, but there was a hollow ache where the pleasure should have been cresting. She was being fucked and it felt incredible, but it wasn't building.
The angle. Every thrust drove deep, but deep meant the crown was grinding against her deepest wall, just past where she needed it. The pressure was there, a constant, pressing ache, but it wasn't the spot. It was close. It was maddening.
She shifted her knees, then her chest. Lowered her chest toward the sand, arched her ass up higher, tilting her hips back. The next thrust drove in, and the angle changed. The fat ridge of his crown dragged along her front wall on the way out, and a bolt of electricity shot up her spine.
"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, fuck."
Knox's rhythm faltered for a half second. "What?"
"Keep going. Keep going, just like that." She dropped her chest flat against the sand, her ass pushed up as high as she could get it. The arch was brutal, her spine curved into a deep U. Her cheek pressed against the hot sand, grit sticking to her lips.
The next thrust came. The crown dragged along her front wall on the way out, and this time it caught her clit. Not directly. Through the thin tissue of her inner wall, with the ridge of his cock pressing up and rubbing the base of her clit from the inside. It was like a switch being flipped.
"Fuck," she sobbed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Right there. Don't move, don't change anything, right there."
Knox grunted and drove in again. The same drag. The same impossible stroke, the ridge of his crown catching her inner wall and grinding up against her clit through the flesh. Her whole body convulsed, her arms giving out, her chest and face pressed flat against the sand, her ass still held up by his grip on her hips.
"That's it," he growled. "That's the angle. God, you're squeezing me like a fist."
She couldn't answer. Every thrust was a lightning bolt. The fullness of him, the impossible stretch, and now the direct drag against her clit with every stroke. The pleasure built fast, a hot flood rising from her toes. Her pussy clenched around him, and she felt her own wetness dripping down her thighs.
Heat coiled low in her belly. A scream built in her throat. She heard herself making noises she didn't recognize, high and keening, half words, half sobs.
"Knox," she managed. "Knox, I'm going to—"
"Don't you dare come until I tell you." His voice was harsh, commanding, but his hips kept pumping, the same angle, the same devastating drag.
She whimpered. Her hips bucked, trying to get more, trying to get faster. But his grip held her steady, his thrusts slow and deep, each one dragging that ridge along her clit like a struck match.
The pressure built. It swelled, and swelled, and her body clenched around him so hard she felt his cock pulse inside her, his own control fraying.
"Please," she begged. "Please, please, I need—"
"Come," he said. "Come on my cock, right now."
The word broke the dam. She screamed, a raw, animal sound that tore through the noise of the crowd. Her body convulsed, her pussy clamping down around him in waves, her inner walls milking him as the pleasure ripped through her. Her vision went white, her ears ringing, her whole body shaking with the force of it.
She came and came, her hips grinding back against him through it all, the drag of his cock against her clit extending the orgasm until she felt like she was drowning in it. Spit and sand caked her lips. Her fingers clawed trenches in the sand.
"Keep going," she gasped when she could speak again. Her body was still trembling, the aftershocks rippling through her. "Don't you stop. Don't you fucking dare stop."
Knox laughed, low and rough. "You're a greedy little thing, aren't you?"
"Fuck you, just keep going."
He did. He drove into her, the same angle, the same drag, and her oversensitized body seized up again, the pleasure sharp and almost painful. She sobbed and pushed back against him, demanding more even as her thighs gave out beneath her.
His rhythm changed. Faster now, harder, the brutal snap of his hips smacking against her ass. The drag on her clit was constant now, a rough friction that had her seeing stars. Her second orgasm swelled, climbed, broke over her in a wave that left her boneless, her whole body limp on the sand, held up only by his grip on her hips.
And still he kept going.
She was boneless in his grip, a limp, trembling weight. Knox pulled out slow, and the drag of his cock against her oversensitive walls made her whimper, her body trying to clamp down and keep him inside. He slid free with a wet, obscene sound, and she felt the sudden emptiness like a wound.
He turned her over in the sand. She was weightless in his hands, a doll, a toy. Her green eyes were glassy, unfocused, her lips swollen and parted. Sand stuck to her cheek. Her hair was a tangled mess across her face. She looked wrecked. She looked perfect.
Knox gathered her up. One arm under her knees, one behind her back, and he lifted her clean off the ground. She made a small, surprised sound, her arms going around his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist automatically. Her slick thighs clamped against his hips. Her weight was nothing against his chest. He could have held her there all day.
"You still with me?" he asked.
Her head lolled against his shoulder. "Yeah."
"Want more?"
She blinked up at him. The sun haloed his head, turned his short dark hair to bronze. His chest was slick with her sweat and his own, heaving slightly. She felt his cock against her inner thigh, hot and hard and impossibly thick. She had taken all of it. She was still stretched around the memory of it.
"I want you to split me in half," she said softly.
Knox's jaw tightened. Something dark and hungry moved through his eyes. He said nothing. He just shifted his grip, and his other hand came down to guide his cock. He straightened his back, and she felt the head of him press at her entrance.
She was already gaping from what he'd done to her. Her body accepted the crown with a wet, yielding sound. She gasped at the stretch, the renewed pressure, but her legs tightened around his waist and she pushed down, taking more.
"Good girl," he breathed.
He lowered her. His feet planted in the sand, and he held her by the ass, her weight settling onto his cock inch by inch. She felt herself opening around him again, the impossible width of him dragging along her walls. Her head fell back and she moaned, loud and unashamed, the sound swallowed by the roar of the crowd.
"Look at that," someone shouted. "He's holding her up like she's nothing."
Sarah's camera clicked. Marek's followed, a staccato rhythm. The ring of onlookers pressed closer, bare bodies jostling for a view.
Knox lowered her until her ass met his thighs, until she was impaled completely, sitting on his cock with her legs wrapped around his waist. She was full. Absolutely, impossibly full, him buried to the root, his cock a thick column of flesh splitting her open from the inside.
"God," she gasped. "God, I can feel you in my throat."
He laughed, low and rough. "Close enough."
Her arms tightened around his neck. Her pussy clenched around him, a reflexive squeeze that made his whole body shudder. She looked down at the place where they joined, where her pale flesh stretched dark and red around his shaft, and felt the tears prick her eyes again.
"Fuck me," she whispered. "Knox, fuck me like this."
"Hold on tight, little one."
His hands locked under her ass, and he began to move.
He didn't lift her far, just enough that the drag of his cock could happen, that long slow slide of thick flesh along her inner walls. Then he hauled her back down and the slap of her body against his thighs cracked across the beach like a wet hand.
Rhea's cry came out high and broken. Her arms locked around his neck and her legs cinched tight around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. She was impaled, bouncing on him, and every drive pushed a wet little sound out of her mouth.
"Fuck," she gasped into his shoulder. "Fuck. Yes. Yes."
"You feel that?" His voice was a low growl against her ear. "That's my cock in your belly."
She felt it. She felt every inch, the width of him splitting her open from the inside, the fat ridge of his crown scraping her deep walls on every stroke. Her whole body was a fist around him, gripping, wet, clenching. Her tits bounced against his chest with the rhythm.
He fucked her standing. Arms like tree limbs holding her weight off the sand, hips snapping up to meet her on every downstroke. The sound was obscene, a wet slap that turned heads all along the shoreline. His balls swung heavy against her ass, the slap of them a lower note under the crack of their bodies.
"Yes," she sobbed. "Don't stop. Don't you stop, don't you ever stop."
He didn't. He turned while he fucked her, a slow rotation on his heels, and she understood. He was showing her off. Turning her to face the ring of onlookers, her pale body writhing on his massive cock, her wrecked face there for all of them.
The crowd had closed in to arm's length. Bare skin everywhere, sunburned and oiled and gleaming. And they were touching themselves.
Rhea's breath caught. A man with a thick gray beard had his fist wrapped around his cock, stroking slow and steady, eyes fixed on the place where she was impaled. Two women stood hip to hip, one with her hand buried between the other's thighs, fingers working her in shallow circles while she watched Rhea bounce.
"Look at them," Knox growled. "They came to watch you take it."
She looked. A young woman with sun-streaked hair had her own hand down between her legs, three fingers deep, pumping them in time with Knox's thrusts. Her mouth hung open. Next to her, an older man jerked himself faster, his wrist a blur.
Anji had pulled her sarong up around her waist. Her hand moved under the loose fabric, quick and busy. She caught Rhea's eye and laughed, unashamed, her dark eyes bright.
"That's it, baby," Anji called. "Put on a show. They're all touching themselves for you."
Rhea's body clenched at the words, hard enough to make Knox groan. He drove up into her, deep and brutal, and she screamed her joy at the sky. It rang off the dunes. She felt it pour out of her, all that shame burned away, replaced with something bright and shameless.
"I love it," she said. "Fuck, I love it, Knox. They're all watching me take your cock."
"Say it louder."
"I love being fucked in front of them!" She screamed it. The ring of bodies actually surged, a low groan running through the crowd like wind through grass. The bearded man stroked faster. The two women pressed closer, mouths open.
Sarah moved through them with her camera up, circling slow, catching the whole thing. The lens found Rhea's face, flushed and wet, then dropped to the join of their bodies, where her lips stretched thin and pale around the dark shaft. Marek mirrored her on the other side, a long lens pressed to his eye.
"How's the angle?" Sarah called out, voice mild, like she was asking about weather.
"Perfect!" Rhea laughed, breathless, riding him harder. "Get it all!"
Knox's rhythm changed. Faster now, more brutal, pounding up into her with a force that jarred her bones. Her feet came loose from his back and swung free, and he caught her with a hand under each ass cheek, working her body up and down on his cock like he was wringing something out of her.
Her head fell back. The sun burned her closed eyelids. She felt the second orgasm coiling low, thick and heavy, building with every wet slap. Her fingernails had dug into the meat of his shoulders hard enough to leave crescents.
"Knox," she panted. "Knox, I'm close again. I'm so close."
"Hold it."
"I can't."
"You can." He bit down on her shoulder, not hard, enough to make her gasp. "You'll come when I say."
She hated him and she loved him and she felt her body obey, teetering right on the edge, every thrust threatening to tip her over. Her thighs quivered around his hips. Sweat poured down between her tits. The crowd watched her fight it.
A woman in the front row moaned and came, her knees buckling, her hand still buried in herself. The sight dragged a sob out of Rhea.
"Now," Knox said. "Come for me. Let them see it."
The order hit her like a punch. Her orgasm tore through her, wet and violent, her pussy clamping down on him in rolling waves. She screamed, arching back, her body a bow in his arms. The crowd howled. Cameras clicked. Someone clapped slow and hard.
She came and came, riding it out on his relentless cock, her mouth open to the sun, and when it was done she hung limp against his chest like a rag doll.
"Good girl," Knox murmured. He hadn't stopped moving. He was still buried deep, still thrusting up into her soft, twitching body. "But I'm not finished."
Rhea lifted her head. Her eyes were glassy and wet. She looked down at him and pushed her hips back against his thighs, a small, defiant grind, her answer already written on her face.