Chapter 2: Breaking the Stallion
The sudden, deep impact of him hitting her cervix was a lightning bolt of white-hot pain that instantly melted into a shocking, full-body pleasure, forcing a ragged scream into the sweat-damp fabric of his shirt. Her rhythm faltered, then became something more frantic, a desperate grinding against his pelvis as she chased that impossible sensation again, her full breasts swaying heavily with each jarring movement. Above them, the washing machine’s spin cycle reached a frantic, shuddering crescendo, its violent hum echoing the forbidden rhythm they hammered out in the dim, tool-scented dark. "I'm gonna... oh God, Karen, I'm..." he choked, his hands clenching on her hips like vices as his back arched off the couch. She rode him through it, taking every raw, pulsing inch until they both collapsed into a stunned, trembling heap, the only sound their torn breaths and the machine winding down to a weary halt overhead.