The Grind Never Stops Novels & Stories

He ground against me, riding out his release, his groans mixing with the crowd's cheers. Instead of pulling out, Zade began to roll of his hips. Every thick inch dragged against my oversensitive walls, stirring the mess of his cum and my slick into a filthy, wet glide. The slow grind kept me stretched and full, never letting the ache fade, never letting my body come down.

I pushed off and the blades bit into the ice and the world blurred around me. The grind was hard and the grind was long and the grind was never ending. But I was still here. And I was still fighting.

When it finally crests and you think you’re done—when you’re sobbing and shaking and can’t take any more—do it again. Shove your fist back in while you’re still coming. Grind deep. …Rub harder. Make yourself come a second time before the first one even finishes. Don’t you dare slow down. Keep that fist buried deep in your wrecked, dripping cunt and grind like your life depends on it. Feel how your walls are still spasming from the first orgasm, clamping down so tight it almost hurts? Force another one right on top of it. No break. No mercy. Just pure, overwhelming overload.