After a minute to catch my breath, I started thrusting, slow and deliberate at first. I pulled it out until just the tip was kissing my entrance, feeling my walls flutter emptily, then I slammed it back in with a controlled push. Each thrust made a wet, obscene squelch, the sound filling the room and turning me on even more. In the mirror, it was hypnotic—watching my pussy stretch and grip the shaft, the lips sliding along it, shiny with fluids. It hit deep inside, the head bumping right against my cervix with a dull thud that sent shocks of pleasure-pain shooting up my spine, making my back arch. I...