Analyzing Liona

Her body's been dissected. Beauty catalogued. Skills measured. All they really wanted was her asshole. Keni knelt behind her, already hard. Liona looked back once, then lowered herself onto the sheets, arching that tight little hole toward him like an offering. He worked slow at first. Spit-slick fingers opened her, tested her give, and when she pushed back he slid two knuckles deep without resistance. The gasp she let out wasn't pain. He kept his hand steady while he lined up. The head pressed, stretched, vanished. Liona's fingers clutched the linen as he sank the rest of the way in, balls meeting skin in a single deliberate thrust. She took him all the way, and he started fucking her like he meant to leave proof. Every stroke made her tighter. Every withdrawal dragged a wet sound from her rim. When she started to tremble he grabbed her hips, held her steady, and drove harder. She came with a ragged moan, clenching around him so hard he had to grit his teeth to stay inside. He pulled out at the last second. Liona stayed on her knees, cheek to the mattress, while thick ropes painted her lower back and the cleft of her ass. She didn't move. Just breathed. Keni's come slid down the curve of her spine, warm and messy, marking the place he'd just used.