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It was a familiar little song and dance - Toji 's

favorite

one at that.

It 's around his fourth orgasm that night, head thrown back against the pillows to watch with a lewd little leer at the way you 're stuttering your limp hips down, down,

down

his long, swollen cock. Those glossy lips of yours sagging open to whine, 'Too

full

, Toji! C-can 't

ngh-

handle it- '

Ah,

it never gets old.

Toji finds his brows knitting together in mock concern, cooing in a baritone voice, 'Awww, my girl 's poor pussy can 't handle it? '

At your bleary nod, he snakes a hand down as if to confirm, thumbing apart your puffy folds. All quivering and glistening with his seed in the dim lighting, 'She 's too full? Too stuffed to take

hah-