She looked at him. At his face. At his black eyes. At the calm. At the smile. She looked at his body. At the chest— broad, muscled, the pectorals defined, the abdominal muscles ridged. At the arms— thick, the forearms corded with vein. At the cock— still hard, still erect, twelve inches, resting against his stomach.
She moved.
Her legs moved. Both of them. She sat on him. On his hips. Her legs— her new legs, her long legs, her complete legs— went on either side of his body. She was straddling him.
Her pussy— healed, tight, virgin— was against his cock. The shaft was between her labia. The head was against her clit. The blood— the new hymen's blood, the virgin blood— was not there yet. Because she had not been penetrated. Because the hymen was intact.
She used her hand.
