And then she’s coming, crying out with a voice so raw and pure and greedy as she drinks me in with her eyes, and I’m stock still, frozen with desire and awe. It’s not my cock that’s giving her this pleasure, but I have the distinct sense that she’s giving this spectacular orgasm to me. Max is still going, feeding her hunger, driving her further and further over the abyss into fucking oblivion, and her climax draws impossibly out before she squeezes her eyes shut and mouths a single, strangled word at me. Anton. Not Max. Anton.
