[She groans - all at once she's full, the tendril thick enough to spread her folds. She's had men of all shapes and sizes, and while but she's never felt anything like this. Perhaps it's the ambiguity of his form. He's exactly as thick as he needs to be to fit comfortably inside of her.

This time, she lifts up the tendril, licks along the underside of it, teasing at it like it was a proper cock. And that's her word for it. She's already been called a harlot, she might as well use the terms that satisfy her.]

Keep going. Not too deep, just, just...... deep enough that you start to feel proper resistance. Then begin to pump it, in and, and out. [She's stammering as she tries to explain, because he isn't quite stalling out inside of her, even as she tells him what to do. Her body squirms, fingers curling. Her toes probably curl, as well - she can't see them, and she's focused on other sensations.]

Slow at first, but then faster. Harder. Deeper.