The Cumming Swan

The title nods to the Dying Swan, yet this swan refuses to die. Jessyka moves with the same quiet poise, only now she uses it to lure Victor straight to her ass. She offers the tight ring without hesitation, hips tilted, back arched, skin warm and glistening. Victor does not need coaxing. He grips her waist, lines up, and pushes in. The ring stretches, then grips him, hot and snug, as he sinks every inch. He stays buried for a breath, then draws back and slams forward. Jessyka’s gasps turn sharp and wet. Each thrust drives deeper, skin slapping, the bed rocking. Victor rides the tight clutch, pace quickening, until the swan’s final cry splits the air.