'They are not leaving, they are stopping, they are right there, they are—'
He pushed.
The head of him pressed against her entrance — stretched it, spread the wet lips of her cunt around the thick crown with slow, relentless pressure — and Marla's whole body went rigid from the waist down.
'No—'
'Not now, they're right—'
"'Gentle,'" she breathed, barely audible, barely anything. "'Please — please, gentle, they're—'"
He pushed through.
The stretch arrived like a wall. Like something she hadn't built herself wide enough for. Her hands flew to his shoulders and her nails found fabric and skin with equal enthusiasm and her mouth opened and the sound that came out—
"'HAAIYAANGH—!!'"
The cry shattered the garden quiet like a stone through glass.
Both girls on the path stopped.
Spun around.
"'What was that?!'"
"I don't— where did it—"
"Is that a person?!"
