Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball

The air thickened with the scent of jasmine and salt, sweat beading on their skin as Nash began to move.

His first withdrawal was agonizingly slow, a long drag of his cockhead against Zayela's inner walls.

Her pussy clung to him, velvety ridges gripping his shaft like a silken fist refusing to let go.

Her wetness gathered thickly around his base, a slick coat that glistened under the dim light.

As he pulled back, her inner folds stretched taut, revealing the flushed pink of her depths, glistening and quivering.

A high, breathless gasp tore from Zayela's throat. Her hips arched off the sofa cushion, spine curving like a drawn bowstring.

"Ah! Nash—!"

He sank back in, deeper this time. Her entrance yielded with a soft, wet shlck, swallowing him whole.

Her thighs clamped harder around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, forcing him deeper still.

The head of his cock kissed her cervix, a firm, dull pressure that bloomed into liquid heat. Zayela's nails raked down his spine.

"F-feels... full..." she stammered, her voice frayed.

Nash groaned, the tightness almost unbearable. Her walls pulsed rhythmically, milking him, each contraction threatening to unravel him.

Withdrawal was torture. Her inner muscles rippled along his length, suctioning him as if desperate to keep him buried.

Zayela's head thrashed against the cushions, dark hair sticking to her temples. Her clit throbbed visibly against his pubic bone, swollen and needy.

When he plunged back in, she cried out, a sharp, sound, her body bucking wildly. Sweat-slicked skin slapped together, the sound filling the whole room.

Nash's vision blurred at the edges; he focused on the flutter of her eyelids, the bite of her teeth into her lower lip. She was so beautiful.

He pistoned into her for the third time, harder now, the sofa creaking beneath their weight. Each retreat dragged her inner lips outward, exposing her glistening pussy before he speared back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Zayela's moans pitched higher, broken by gasps.

"D-don't... stop..." she begged.

Her hands gripped his ass, pulling him in, the skin firm under her palms. The pleasure was electric, pulsing through her.

Nash felt the bounce of her breasts, her hard nipples grazing his chest, the warmth, the smell of sex heavy, her wetness coating his balls cool and slick.

Hold. Hold.

Zayela's legs locked around him like a vise, ankles crossed tight. She met his thrusts with desperate upward lunges, her pelvis grinding against him.

The friction on her clit was relentless, every stroke sending jolts up her spine. Her pussy grew impossibly tighter, slick walls convulsing in erratic spasms.

"Y-yes... there!" she sobbed, her eyes rolling back.

Nash felt her inner muscles clench rhythmically, a pulsing vise grip that milked his cock.

Pre-cum leaked from him, mingling with her juices, making each thrust slicker, hotter.

Her back arched violently, lifting her shoulders off the sofa. A guttural cry ripped from her as Nash angled deeper, the crown of his cock grinding against her front wall.

Her thighs trembled against his sides, muscles corded and shaking. Zayela's hands flew to his shoulders, nails biting deep as she clung to him, her body writhing like a live wire.

"M-more—harder!" she asked, voice raw.

Nash obeyed, slamming into her with brutal force. The slap of flesh echoed in the room. Her juices flowed freely now, soaking the sofa beneath them, dripping down her thighs.

Her breaths came in ragged, animalistic pants. Her eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide, locking onto his.

"I... I'm gonna—" she choked out.

Nash's rhythm faltered; he was teetering on the edge, every nerve screaming for release. Her pussy clenched like a fist, spasming wildly around him.

He gritted his teeth, jaw aching.

Not yet. Not yet. Her hips pistoned upward, meeting his thrusts with frenzied abandon.

The wet, filthy sounds of their joining filled the air, a symphony of suction and slick friction.

On the seventh thrust, Zayela's body went rigid, a strangled scream tearing from her throat.

Her back arched impossibly high, only her head and heels touching the sofa.

Every muscle in her body locked, thighs, abdomen, arms, quivering like a plucked bowstring. Her pussy contracted in violent waves, gripping Nash's cock with crushing force.

"N-NASH!" she shrieked, her voice cracking.

Tears streamed down her temples, mixing with sweat. Nash's own body trembled violently; his balls drew up tight against him, heat scalding his spine.

Hold. Just a little more.

He drove into her once more, burying himself to the root.

Zayela exploded. Her body convulsed, a guttural roar tearing from her as her pussy clamped down, a vise of muscle and heat.

"Ahhh! Ahhh Nashhh! Hhhhaaahhh!" she moaned, guttural and high, her cries spilling raw from her throat.

Then, a torrent of clear fluid erupted from her, spraying Nash's abdomen and thighs in hot, rhythmic gushes.

"Mmmhhhhh! Hhhhaaahhh! Aaaahhhhhh!" she wailed, each gush forcing another broken cry, her voice shaking with the waves of release.

It wasn't a trickle, it was a fountain, soaking the sofa cushions, dripping onto the floor with a steady splash-splash-splash.

Her inner walls fluttered wildly, milking him as she trembled uncontrollably. Nash's eyes twitched, vision flashing white.

The pressure was agonizing, her ecstasy dragging him to the brink. He roared through clenched teeth, every tendon in his neck standing out.

"F-FUCK—!"

For three shuddering seconds, Zayela's orgasm held them both captive. Her body bowed off the sofa, suspended in mid-air by the force of her release, muscles locked in rigor.

Nash's cock throbbed inside her, buried to the hilt, her slick walls pulsing around him like a heartbeat.

The smell of sex and salt and her sweet release hung thick in the air.

Then, collapse.

Zayela slumped back, gasping, her body glistening with sweat and her own essence. Her legs fell open, trembling, as Nash withdrew slightly, his cock slick and gleaming.

Zayela's hand flew to his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. Her eyes dark, dilated, wild, locked onto his.

"Stop... worrying," she panted, chest heaving. "Just... fuck me, Nash. Like you mean it."

The beast was unchained.

Nash's control shattered. He drove into her with feral abandon, no longer counting thrusts, no longer holding back.

The sofa groaned as he hauled her hips up, slamming into her with enough force to bruise.

Zayela's cries turned guttural, a raw soundtrack to their union. Her nails scored his back anew, her legs hooking over his shoulders as he folded her nearly in half.

Each thrust was a brutal claim, her wetness splattering with every snap of his hips. She met him stroke for stroke, her body a live wire of sensation, her second climax already coiling tight in her belly.

The taboo was ash. All that remained was heat, sweat, and the blinding need to take.