Chu Yun's spine was taut with tension as he lowered himself onto Xiao Zai's cock. Despite the preparation, the unusually slick oil, and how copiously Xiao Zai was dripping, it was still a tight fit. Chu Yun had to stop along the way several times to get his bearings, his free hand gripping the headboard tightly for support, the muscles of his abdomen jumping with the strain.
It didn't hurt, as he expected it might, but the stretch was inexorable, like something inside him had to shift to make room for Xiao Zai's cock. The thought alone punched the breath out of him.
He looked into Xiao Zai's face and found his eyes closed in supplication, his teeth carved into his lower lip. The knuckles of his fingers had turned white from the vicious grip he had on Chu Yun's waist. It was going to bruise.
