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110 Please Come In, Master

Despite how wet I was, the sensation of Michael's fingers inside me was still intense, bordering on discomfort. My body tightened around him, pulling him deeper with each thrust, his breath hitching as he reveled in my response. His eyes, filled with a fierce desire, bore into me, claiming me with every movement.

Michael remained silent, his focus entirely on my reactions. His fingers delved deeper, more insistent, driving me wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. This was unlike anything I’d experienced with him before—his usual quickness abandoned for a slow, torturous build-up that left me aching for more. He had been poised on the brink of entering me since my first orgasm, yet he held back, his endurance a test of my patience.

The sound of my wetness filled the room, each squelch a reminder of how close I was to the edge, yet never quite reaching it. The pleasure was overwhelming, a constant wave that never crested, leaving me trembling with need. My hands found their way t
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