Lyra deserves to be married.

She seems like the kind of girl that would be compelling to hug, held, and cherished. After the initial courtship and breakdown in happy tears, I could see her riding that emotional high and start really getting into the marriage as a means of emotional stability if you know what I mean. She'd still have tears cascading down her face and a look of adoration and purity in her eyes, but she'd start smiling like a fulfilled wife and start meeting my lovebombs with her arms and legs tightly wrapped around me, nails scratching at my arms and back, kissing me softly on my neck and shoulders before I sit us down. All in a desperate attempt to disassociate herself from what's happening and try to regain some semblance of self-control and avoid pregnancy.

Eventually the combination of my rough and animalistic pounding of her small tight body coupled with her high pitched moans and loving stare would make me hilt myself balls deep, and explode right up against her cervix. She'd accept my cum inside of her with a satisfied elongated moan, burying her face in my neck as she peaks hard, fluttering around my quivering cock and squeezing my hips and ass with her lithe and well toned thighs and calves. Her lips brushing affectionately around my jawline as she slowly goes limp from exhaustion. But as the seconds go by and the fog of lust starts disappearing, her rationality overtaking her base instincts from moments ago, she'd pull away from me and curl up so she could be the little spoon. Ashamed of herself for her reactions and gradual acceptance of a happiness instead of giving into self-deprecating despair.

The evidence of our lovemaking dribbling out of her as she begins to finds peaceful rest.