Annabelle, despite her confidence and eagerness, is a little nervous. She steels herself with a deep breath, and mindfully and deliberately relaxes her body as she feels him initially press against her. It's like a curious nudge as he finds the proper placement, and it actually feels quite good, even if it makes her brace.

Grateful he can't see her face, she grits her teeth, letting out a tense, brief huff through them. It's girthier than the toy she's been practicing with, which despite its dimensions, used to feel just as awkward as this does. Now, she uses it with ease. It's only natural to step out of her comfort zone at that point, she figures.

"Ah..."

But beyond the discomfort, it's pleasurable, too—the heat of his sex is stimulating in a way she's only known from the narrowest of intrusions from his tongue, and this is of course much different. She focuses on regulating her breathing—deep and slow, and the cramping relents somewhat. She curls her fingers when he takes her hand again, reciprocating its zealous hold. And despite the strange discomfort and mild pain, her clit aches more than ever. It's a very unusual combination of sensations.

"Yes," she whispers tersely, her brow furrowing. Even if it's a little difficult, the fact that she's achieving even this much is definitely getting her off, encouraging her wetness.