Cringe Weird Girl

1884

(again)

1884

1884

Hosea, Arthur, Ruby, Bessie, Annabeth, Susan, Dutch

Had to do one without the Devil

totally not targeted to myself cuz I'm recovering from surgery..

-Not so secret perv

OMG, sorry I took so long to reply to the delicious ask. I was also in the hospital lol, so this is really long and really delirious.

I don't think perv reader would fully beg no matter how desperate, they’re too set on making Arthur crack, and they’re a little too dedicated to manipulating people's perception of them. Perv readers not gonna let Arthur fuck them until he’s so unraveled they could get him to do it anywhere anytime. But Arthur would notice, they go out and perv reader doesn't pull their usual antics, they don't hover suspiciously during meal times, and there aren't any souvenirs turning up in his tent. He wonders if perhaps they’ve lost interest or maybe it really was all in his dirty ole head. 

Eventually, what would really concern Arthur, was when he returned home after a few days away. He hadn’t seen you at all and by the time he did you were sluggishly getting ready for dinner. He passed behind you groin grazing your ass as you set the table (an innocent, accidental habit of his that brought you pleasure to no end), and you didn't push back into him like you usually did. Instead you practically fell forward bracing yourself with both hands on the table. Arthur simply thought he accidentally nudged you forwards and wrapped an arm around you pulling you back upwards into him, hand grazing your nipple. An entirely disproportionate whimper fell from your lips, loud despite your trying to bite it back. Arthur froze watching you rush off to your tent as fast as your spinning head and aching body allowed. 

You were irritable and acting odd, even for you, so Arthur kept an even closer eye on you than usual. He watched you struggle to leave your tent in the morning and dress yourself opting for loose baggy clothes. He watched you barely eat breakfast before hobbling back to your tent. Most importantly, he watched as your nightly routine changed into you simply collapsing on to your bed. He knew your nighttime routine like the back of his hand. Seeing as your tents were the only ones on the edge of camps and they were so close together, that's all. He’d gotten used to seeing your silhouette undress late at night through the illuminated cloth tent. Seeing you crawl into bed before mounting what he assumed was your pillow and grinding into it until inevitably your climax washed over you. He always looked away of course, as though it’d somehow change the fact that he’d grab his cock in his hands cumming to the sound of you each night, besides sometimes, if he was lucky, he’d hear the faint whisper of his name coming from you. but lately there was no light, no silhouette, and no cumming for either of you. He's irritable now too and he’s watching you like a hawk growing more concerned with each passing moment. 

He only says something when you nearly pass out. He’d taken you into town to hopefully see a doctor and get some medicine but right afterwards you nearly hit the mud exiting the medicine shop, so he scoops you up to find somewhere to lie down. Your arms are around his neck, no wandering or groping. Arthur feels so gross for being disappointed.

You are loopy and very weak so Arthur stays with you in the room lying there not wanting to remove your arms from around him, or move you at all in case you're still aching. Perv reader just barely inches their leg up towards Arthur and his breath hitches. 

Deep down he's desperately hoping perv reader will return to normal. 

By now, you’d surely be grinding into his thigh to “adjust” yourself or at the very least sticking your nose into his neck as you feigned sleep, once when Arthur was still unfamiliar with your antics, ya’ll shared the last bed at a small hotel and you had licked his neck, and moaned his name out in an erotic way Arthur often thought about when he had the privacy to let his mind wander. When you awoke, you apologized for any “drooling” or sleep talking “filthy habits I can’t seem to shake” you’d said, giggling. 

Arthur could feel your breath on his collarbones as you nuzzled your face into his chest. Different than usual, innocent, for once I suppose. Arthur tried to clear his head from the suggestive memories of you, as you fell deeper into sleep. 

It was only a few moments before Arthur resolved to slip away and let you sleep. But just before he could, a whimper fell from your lips, as you grabbed on tighter to him, slowly rocking your hips. Not nearly the same as you usually did. Typically it was rushed, firm and just almost oddly enough it could be excused as an attempt at repositioning yourself,- only so repetitive due to the cramped space, it's just so difficult to move while sharing a bed with a man as large as Arthur, really. Plus, you had warned Arthur you liked to sleep in odd positions due to you being flexible and all. 

This time the friction was barely there and the movement seemed absentminded despite the clear difficulty it took you to move at the moment, eyebrows furrowed and quiet pants falling from your lips. Arthur instantly surrendered, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth, a memory he’d kick himself for later. It didn't take long for Arthur to realize that you actually were truly asleep this time and much to his dismay the pathetic movements of your hips barely grazed him. Arthur readjusted himself, to “get more comfortable” definitely not to try and make your movements collide against him better. 

He gently grabbed a hold of your leg, the one just barely raised over him, and held it closer to him opening up your hips, trying to adjust them to how you usually slept when y’all shared a bed. Leg over him and groins pressed close together. A situation that occurred much more often than necessary but Arthur tried not to spend time thinking about that.

You groaned slightly at the movement and Arthur froze unsure if he’d woken you up. Until you snuggled back in closer and once again began grinding your hips on him. Your movements were still pitiful but the position allowed for Arthur to feel each whisper of contact and judging by the nearly constant string of soft moans coming from you, you also appreciated the repositioning. You went on like this for a bit while Arthur held onto the sheets resisting the urge to move your hips for you, as he was already feeling so filthy for his readjustment of you both.

It was one thing when you had your wits about you, when you both were doing that unacknowledged push and pull or more so you were playing him like a fiddle and he would occasionally add in a note or two. But this time you were raw and defenseless in his arms. 

While he agonized over his perverted behaviour, there was something about this that made his cock throb more than usual. Even the whispers of contact now felt almost like the drunk nights with you he couldn't quite remember fully. 

When ya’ll would drink the bar dry, hump each other like dogs on the floor of whatever room ya’ll stumbled into, and then “not remember at all” in the morning. His hips bucked upwards involuntarily at the revival of those cloudy memories, and he immediately restrained himself once more. But the whine that left perv readers' lips echoed in his head. He threw his head back suddenly in frustration, tension overwhelming him (god he's such a good boy), making his hat fall from the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud. This jolted you awake. It took a good few moments before your hazy eyes adjusted and your brain fog cleared enough to realize the position you were in. Now comparatively to what you usually did, your current circumstance was rather innocent but this time it was not by your design. 

Perv reader was masterful at crafting situations and interactions that satisfied their desires while maintaining the tailored perception people had of them, this allowed them to fly under the radar and do all the underhanded things they oh so enjoyed. 

But now here you were, with no plan, and no energy to craft a convincing one. The sudden realisation of your lack of control of the situation was a bit jarring and you jumped back just a bit before Arthur held them firm. You felt the wet spot that had accumulated between your thighs and looked down to see one where you rested on Arthur. Another sight that would have been quickly brushed away if they had their wits about them but your discombobulated disposition at the moment led to frantic apologies and a twinge of genuine shame dawning on you, a very very rare occurrence. Despite your embarrassment you had no energy to push away from Arthur and didn't as much as raise your throbbing head from his chest. 

Arthur was silent, a mixture of just waiting for you to finish slurring out apologies, and wondering if you were aware of his role in this little ordeal. You quickly went quite no energy left to keep pushing out any more nonsensical strings of words resembling apologies. The silence hung there in the air a while as you both fought to steady your hips that still tried gravitating towards each other. 

Arthur spoke cutting through the heavy air. 

“Maybe it’ll help you sleep.. more soundly,” he said, not even looking down.

You made a small choked noise resembling a “huh”.

Arthur simply responded by readjusting his grip on the leg you still had strung over him, once again pulling your bodies together until the groins were pressed together. The contact made a pained whine fall from your lips, burying your head into Arthur's chest holding onto his shirt as firmly as you could, nodding so slightly anyone else would've missed it. 

Arthur moved his hands to your hips holding them in place. Before lifting his own and grinding upwards against you. The moans that fell from both of their lips were boisterous and seemingly unending. 

Arthur kept a steady pace, grinding firmly, even through the fabric of your underwear you could feel the throbbing. You both whined and whimpered like wounded animals, but just before you were about finally cum. Arthur's movements ceased. Pulling a long whimper out of you, tears forming in your eyes. 

You didn't have the willpower to continue yourself so you did all you could, which was wordlessly plead with Arthur in between cries, and paw at his chest. Arthur caressed your cheek wiping your tears and kissed the top of your head before continuing. Arthur had only stopped because the hotel manager had come knocking to ask you both to quiet down but you hadn't heard due to the ringing in your ears, either from the sickness or the long overdue orgasm you were so close to achieving. Arthur continued grinding up into you, this time slower, firmer steadier, pushing you over the edge as he shushed you, cooing into your ear. At first simple sweet nothings “its okay, that’s it”, etc. But by the time you were nearing your second climax he was whispering in that same steady, calming voice things like, “is that what you want huh?, im gonna make you feel all better? dont worry baby just use me. I got you, tell me what you want”, etc. 

Whatever medicine you got at the doctor has you loopy like a constant dream. It’s eased your symptoms but it's leaving you more and more out of it as it kicks in. You can only reply with soft strings of “please, please, Arthur, oh god”, when he slows you use the little energy you have to pull at him. He complies. He only stops his relentless movements to pull off his pants and yours when the friction becomes uncomfortable. You both must have stayed like that for hours and eventually he's spent, tired from his constant hip movements, holding you up, and cumming over and over, all at the same time. 

He flips you over laying you down onto the two pillows he's stacked to support your head. The entire time your bodies are disconnected your muttering barely intelligible pleas for more. Arthur covers you in the plush blanket as you whine in protest, actual tears falling, believing that your long overdue pleasure has come to an end. But once Arthur is done adjusting you he slips under the blankets, lower, and lower, slotting between your legs. He raises the blanket to catch your eye, as though looking for approval and you're pushing his head down between thighs nodding before he can get a word out. He spends the rest of the night mouth latched on to you, eating your cum for dinner, until you’ve passed out. He's unsure when you've finally knocked out succumbing to the medicine's effects but you're sleeping far more soundly than before. Arthur cleans you up before climbing into bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. Before he dozes off he thinks to himself, if you're this relentless in bed while being so sick, what in the world would you be like usually. 

He finds it hard to fall asleep pulling himself awake nearly every hour to make sure you're alright and the next morning he's still tired. Regardless, by the time you awaken he’s up and about, as per usual. It had always annoyed you that he always seemed to be up before you. The early hours of the morning and the late hours of the night were your time to do certain things you wouldn't risk the others seeing, sometimes not even Arthur. But this time his early rising meant that he was silently handing you a plate of breakfast and a dosage of your medication before you could wipe the crust outta your eye. He’d splurged on the fancy breakfast these hotels typically offer. He’d once said it was a fancy waste of money, especially when he could just have stew, but he’d bought it for you and collected a flower from the tree outside the window, to place on your tray. You hated it. You blushed and felt awkward. Didn't know what to do or say. It was usually you making him uncomfortable. After how terribly vulnerable you'd been last night you couldn't let any more control slip. 

You ate and he ate in silence, each reading the paper or at least pretending to read in between sly glances. until he got up  to remove your tray and found that you hadn't taken your meds. He placed it on the nightstand grunting to draw attention to it before returning the trays downstairs. But by the time he’d returned you still hadn't taken it, you were determined to remain unmedicated hoping to avoid another slip of your reigns. Arthur paced a bit awkwardly, and for the first time since last night he spoke “gotta take yer medicine” 

“no” you simply responded not looking up from your paper.

He stood confused for a moment before sighing and sitting down on the chair across the room. He tried to let it be but his eyes kept trailing up to the medicine on the nightstand and darting to you and back over and over. This goes on for a while before you attempt to stand to retrieve some more reading material and your body humbled you quickly. The aching pain shot through you and you had to hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself. Arthur’s over to you before you can topple over or try to move again. He's holding you up. You go to say something but the pain spikes again. Arthur furrows his eyebrows at you before sitting you down on the bed's edge. He reaches over grabbing the medicine from the night stand. He gently grabbed your jaw that you instinctively opened before he could ask, and with him towering over you as he did now, you didn't think to disobey as he put the medicine into your mouth. Swallowing and opening to show him. He stroked your cheek with his thumb absentmindedly, “good” is all he said and you both returned once more to reading besides one another.

Your skin is crawling and you want to scream. You have no energy to pervert his deeds. It’s intimate almost makes you feel bad for the kind of games you’ve tortured him with. You actively try to reimagine him holding your jaw and sticking his dick into your mouth instead of the medication but for some annoying reason the thought of him making you take your medicine is so much more appealing at the moment.

You and Arthur continue in this routine for several days. Eating breakfast, feeding you your medicine, reading and him taking you on little walks in the morning. You notice he likes choosing what you eat, what you read, where you go on the walks. You see how he lights up when you let him, when you enjoy what he shows you, he’s dominating you and he doesn’t even know it. But when the night falls he’s letting you push and pull him every which way you want to get yourself off. He’s careful, deliberate. You wondered if he’s always like this in bed but the way he caresses your sore spots and keeps an eye on your face checking for any hint of uncomfortability lets you know he’s going easy on you. It didn’t take long for you to start feeling better, not perfect but well enough, but you dragged it out. Mentioning once that the medicine “is really working” gauging Arthur’s response, he looked up gauging yours and perhaps he saw the glint of pleading in your eyes cus he simply replied “I read it takes a while to kick in fully don’t think you’ll be ready to get back to ass kicking for a bit longer”. He seemed nonchalant about it but you both understood it as an agreement to keep this routine going a bit longer. 

Your stronger now, Arthur’s spent the last few nights licking sucking and finger fucking you until you fall asleep. He’s cumming occasionally from the taste of you but he wants to be in you. He always has but now with each day he plays the role of the dutiful husband he can’t help but want to try and breed you, extending his fantasy family. But he won't, not while you're like this. He’d be hesitant to fuck you on your best day, so now body weakened he wouldn’t dream of ACTUALLY doing it. You would though. 

The interactions with Arthur have been purely genuine and you start questioning continuing your manipulation once you fully recover. That is until one day you realize that he’s INTENTIONALLY acting as your husband. YOUR husband, you’d overheard him telling the hotel staff as much one morning. He’d slipped up and started calling you “MY darling” while he eased orgasm after orgasm out of you. That thought alone, in addition with your increasing health has your mind creating all sorts of ideas now. It keeps circling back to the fantasy honeymoon. Him cumming deep inside you, making him moan so loud everyone in the vicinity knew he was your husband and that you were fucking him better than anyone could, him grabbing your ass in public because of course your his. You twisted the stem of the flower he’d placed on your bedside into a ring around your finger. He’d noticed that night when he held your hand steadying you as his tongue worked between your legs. You felt his moan vibrating into you as he caressed your finger rubbing against the ring. 

As though confirming its existence, you wanted more of him, you wanted him to confirm this marriage delusion by sinking his aching cock into you making him cum one of those huge loads you’ve seen him empty in the woods, deep into you instead. You honestly aren’t sure if you would’ve actually let him but you at least want to feel him try. You pleaded wordlessly at first pulling him up from in between your legs managing to get out a “more please, need you” in between heavy breaths. Arthur studied you for a while as though not believing what you were asking. You pulled at his hips and he groaned deeply feeling his bulge rub against you, but he reached his hands down rubbing against where you were hurting and when your face contorted slightly at the discomfort he shook his head. The sound that left his mouth started as a whine but contorted into a deep growl as he stuck his head back down between your legs working more vigorously than before. Perhaps to make up for denying you or perhaps due to his own sexual frustration. 

Arthur disappeared that night and you noticed almost immediately having gotten far too used to the warmth and weight of him in bed with you. Which perturbed you to no end. He was supposed to be craving you, not the other way around. You sat in bed awhile wondering where he could be. You paced around the room and looked out at the window noticing the saloon across the street. You figured if anywhere, he’d be there. You made your way outside walking over to the lively saloon, with little effort, much improved from a few days ago. The saloon had a decent amount of people inside. You look up to the balcony searching for Arthur and you spot him in a dark corner near the balcony with a woman standing awfully close by. She’s inching closer towards him adjusting her top to expose more of her cleavage as she whispers in his ear. Your feet are moving before you know it, head spiraling with possessive thoughts. He’s YOURS. You could ride his face right here right now as she watches. You could put a collar on him that proclaims him as yours before he goes out again, you could make him crawl around on all fours behind you etc. but before you make it up the steps someone is stepping in front of you reeking of beer and slurring their words, attempting to flirt with you. You lose sight of Arthur. 

You rush past them and upstairs bursting into every room, he’s not there. After a few moments you give up, berating yourself for your complete lack of composure and strategy. You’ve been sloppy and Arthur has surely slipped away from around your finger. You trudge outside into the almost silent night. The noise from the saloon is muffled and the noise of the vehicles blocking your path in the street is subtle. There’s another sound though. You could swear you heard your name. You follow the sound leading to the back of the saloon. It’s dark only dimly lit by the faint glow of the street lights a bit away on the street and the light from the upper windows of the saloon. Your eyes focus on the figure leaning against the wall, adjusting, almost gasping aloud when you realize what you’re seeing. 

Arthur is braced against the wall of the saloon stroking his cock with both of his hands. He’s moaning and whining loudly. He must’ve noticed how loud he was because he pulled his shirt up into his mouth muffling his sound, exposing his abdomen. Your eyes trace down to his abs, illuminated by the moon, his v line, and following the vein that runs all the way down to his cock. You’ve watched him like this before but the way he was doing it this time was different. He had his hands clasped around each other creating a makeshift hole and he was fucking into them as though he was having real sex. He’s fast and he’s rough. You think back to his hands on you, and in you, but then the memory of him denying you when you asked him for his cock returns. A twinge of annoyance mixes with your arousal. You wonder if he’s thinking about that woman who was all over him. You make up some story in your head about him getting hard from her flirting and coming out here to imagine her taking care of him. 

If you were thinking clearly you may have wondered why he hadn’t just gone to a room with her and had the real thing but alas you were annoyed and frustrated. You made up your mind to approach him, teach him a lesson. You’d tie his hands behind his back with his bandana and squeeze his balls like milking a cow, refusing to let him cum, watching him cry and beg until there was no question on his or your head who he belonged to. He’d let you too, wouldn't dare fight against you, “you're weak and fragile” right now after all. But just as you took a step forward he was releasing the shirt from his mouth, throwing his head back, gasping and muttering. In between “oh god” and “fuck” and a slurry of other swears he was panting out your name. His eyes were squeezed shut, visualizing his hands were you as he fucked into them faster, harder, cum spilling out of him as he uttered your name again and again.

A smile tugged at your lips. The anger that sizzled through you immediately dissipated. You made your way over to him as he rode out his high. He didn’t react when you placed a hand on his neck feeling his pulse, twirling the hair at the nape of his neck. He slowly opened his eyes. They widened when he realized you were really there. He scrambled to put his cock away and explain away his predicament. But you were pinning him back against the wall before he could make another movement. You held him by his neck and he sighed, relaxing. Hand still covering his cock, that had already begun hardening once more. 

You reached down, placing your other hand over his. His body shivered bucking into your hand involuntarily and he turned his head upwards avoiding looking at you. You removed his hand and ran your finger up from the base to the tip of his cock. You tapped on the precum leaking from his tip, watching the string of precum connecting your finger and his tip glisten in the moonlight. You pulled Arthur off of the wall and down into the grass. You laid him flat onto his back and straddled him. You hadn’t bothered to put underwear on when you left to look for him so now you were bare against each other. You grinded against him similar to how he did that first night. Arthur watched the street for passersby. Biting his lip to control his moans, you made no such attempts. You wanted people to hear you, to see you. Arthur attempted to bite his fist when a moan slipped past his lips but you swiftly pulled it away. 

You rode him agonizingly slow letting his tip tease your entrance before slipping past, his cum still coated the length of his cock and it eased your movements even more. Arthur’s hips bucked and you let them. You pulled his face to look at you. Slapping his cheek lightly each time he tried looking away. His hands grazed up your sides hesitantly searching for approval with his eyes. You nodded, eliciting a whine from him that he bit back pulling his bottom lip into his teeth. You  pulled off of him displaying your disapproval. He groaned trying to urge you to put your hips back on him. His eyes were so docile it was hard to deny him. 

You traced his lips with your fingers and sat back down grinding against him once more. His lips parted, releasing a series of small moans. You slipped your two wet fingers into his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, whining, tongue circling your fingers, sucking on them. His eyes were locked on you as though he was making sure you saw how good he was being. You grinded against him faster and harder, never breaking eye contact. The fat tip of his cock pushed against your entrance with each stroke pushing you both to climax. Right as you were both on the very edge of an orgasm you pulled off of his cock eliciting a groan of complaint from the man beneath you. Just as quickly you readjusted, settling onto his face. It didn't take but a few moments for you to reach your climax as Arthur's moans reverberated through you. You lifted yourself off of him paying no attention to his still aching cock, that twitched with each breeze. You didn't even spare him a glance as you fixed your clothing, smoothly saying “oh my, I’m awful tired, this medicine is making me so delirious, how ever did I get all the way out here?” Making your way back across the street. Arthur laid there panting, breathless, stunned. He balled up the grass in his fist pounding the ground a few times in frustration before popping up to his feet. Shoving his painful boner into his pants, rushing over to follow behind you. 

Just like that the game was back on and he was no longer your husband Arthur. It was time to leave the hotel room that served as your honeymoon suite and return to your neighboring tents, masturbating together pretending that the thin fabrics between you made it private, entirely unrelated to the other. 

On the ride back home, Arthur was quieter than usual. He’d spent the morning clearly pouting at the sudden end to his marital fantasy; you’d watched him pack up all your things, stumbling upon your makeshift flower ring. He’d paused, twirling it around his fingers before swiftly putting it into his shirt pocket when he thought you were preoccupied. He spent most of the ride considering insisting that you both decide to remember this. This time, he needed it to be different than those drunken nights. He didn't want to deny it this time. However, when your hands began wandering as they usually did, gripping his thighs and grazing his groin. Pushing dramatically against him with each bump and shamelessly inhaling his scent. You were mostly back to your usual self, and Arthur wouldn't risk losing these little moments. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that you’d suddenly be vulnerable and intimate as you were in the hotel. So he conceded once again to your game and truly convinced himself once more that perhaps you were just balancing yourself from the bumpy ride (using his boner).

My glorious kings Baelor and Dunk are about to get slutted out beyond what we ever thought possible are so lovely and sweet.

Arthur's hesitant to fuck you. Scared he'll rip you open. So he'll test u with his fingers first, teasing you open 1 finger at a time until he's confident you can attempt his massive cock. Takes 3 before he even considers it. He's gotta train you to take it. Has to make you gape and judge just how much he can mold your hole to him. It's sexy, and it's fun, but Arthur is also very serious about it. Like a teacher, he speaks softly but sternly, explaining his actions, how he's curling his fingers, when he'll insert the next, etc., and easing your inevitable begging with soft spanks on your plush ass. Every night like clockwork, after you told him you wanted him, he's had you bent over his lap working at your tight hole.

Once he realizes you just might actually be able to take him, all of him, he refuses to cum, though he could from the sight and the feeling of your hole stretching around his fingers alone. He's set on saving it for when he is buried deep inside you. But he begins growing irritable, frustrated; it seems his fingers aren't enough to replicate his sheer size, and the aching of his cock becomes drastically harder and harder to ignore with each passing night. You fight with him, insisting you're ready for him, and his resolve slips by the moment.

You spent the night pouting around the campfire, waiting for Arthur to inevitably usher you to his tent and deny you what you really craved. But this time you had a plan. Arthur watches you across the fire, gaze dark and jaw clenched. He's set on perhaps taking a break tonight, but your pouty lips tug at him, and he's once again determined to attempt to prove to himself that his cock wouldn't tear you in two.

You both stand abruptly at the same time, and you're walking to Arthur's tent before he can make his way over to you. He follows close behind but much to his annoyance, is intercepted by another member of the camp asking a favor. The task is easily completed just moving something across camp but by the time he finishes it he almost running back to his tent, imagining he'll find that you've left or grown tired. but instead he finds you bouncing slowly on a glass rod resembling a cock. not particularly impressive in size but a bit longer than Arthur's fingers. Arthur pulls the tent close speedily and makes his way to the bed, eyes never leaving you. the look in his eyes urges you to continue but he is wordless. After a few moments, a groan slips from his lips, and he firmly wraps an arm around your waist halting your movements. he pulls your body against his and leans down tasting your lips in a series of slow deep kisses before pushing you down the sahft of the glass cock and up again several times. He slips his other hand underneath feeling how slick, how stretched you were. He entranced picturing the thing filling you up was his own cock and its as though he could feel every constriction. moving you languidly up and down it as you bury your face into his chest.

He's right on the edge when you say. "I wish it was you, wish I could feel your cum inside me." Arthur drops his head, defeated, a pained moan escaping his lips. All it took was a few seconds for his pants to be off and him to be pulling you off the inferior glass replica. He's in a rush, and you can actually feel him make the decision to slow himself when he lines up his thick cock with your entrance. Arthur holds it firmly, ensuring that only the leaking tip was teasing the inside of your hole. He's still holding back, sinking in mere centimeters at a time. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, too close, too quickly. The stretch stings, and Arthur nearly collapses, curses falling from his lips. You don't mind it. would rather feel him tear you open than spend another night dreaming of it. You buck your hips up, taking another few inches, and it's as though Arthur surrenders to you, no more resistance left in him, allowing you to pull at his hips until he's flush against you. Balls pressed tightly against your ass. Arthur focuses his efforts on not fucking into you and milking himself, chasing his long-overdue orgasm. He allows you to move his hips at whatever pace you desire until you're comfortable with his cock moving in and out of you so deep.