He hovered just above her now, body between her legs, his thick head pressed at her soaked, swollen entrance.
Mina’s breath caught—her hand still gently stroking him, guiding him, holding him there.
She looked up into his eyes. There was no going back. Not anymore.
He pushed forward.
Just the tip.
Mina’s entire body arched off the bed.
“Oh my God— f…” she gasped, her voice breaking, barely a whisper before it turned into a strained moan.
Her mouth stayed open, but no words came.
He hadn’t even given her an inch, but the pressure was already incredible…
Her hands gripped the sheets. Her thighs trembled. Her chest heaved. It was too much. Too thick. She felt stretched already—and he had only just started.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Not from sadness.
From the sheer shock of the stretch.
From the raw, overwhelming sensation of being opened in a way she’d never felt before.
But she didn’t stop him.
She wouldn’t.
Even through the tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, her voice cracked:
“Don’t stop…”
He paused briefly, gauging her breathless, trembling face, but she shook her head and pulled him in harder.
Her voice came out hoarse but certain.
“No matter what I say…” she gasped. “No matter how much I cry or scream… push it in me.”
He blinked, eyes wide, breath heavy.
“I have to take it,” she moaned, barely able to finish the sentence. “I was meant for this…”
Her voice dropped to a whisper, tears still slipping down her cheeks.
“This is what nature intended. I’m made to take it.”
He moved slightly, easing just a fraction more inside.
She cried out again, her body bucking, her fingers digging into his back.
“Even if it hurts,” she groaned. “I want you to split me open.”
Then, in a low, guttural voice, he murmured in Dominican Spanish:
“Tu toto está tan malditamente apretado…”
(Your pussy is so damn tight…)
His voice thickened with lust as he looked down between them.
“Mira cómo me abrazas. Cómo tu cuerpo jala mi pinga pa’ dentro.”
(Look how you’re hugging me. How your body’s pulling my cock inside.)
Mina moaned, helpless now. Her thoughts dissolved into heat and ache and need.
Her legs locked tighter around his hips. Her body pulsed, overwhelmed, stretched beyond what she thought was possible—and yet, wanting more.
“I want it,” she whispered. “All of it.”
Tear-streaked, mouth trembling, she pulled him deeper still and whispered:
“Give it to me, papi.”
And he did.
He pushed.
Deeper…
Made For This…
Mina clung to him.
Tears still welled in the corners of her eyes, her cheeks flushed, thighs trembling as his cock pushed deeper inside her—inch by aching inch.
Her pussy was stretched to its limit. The pressure was unrelenting. Her lips were parted in an open moan that barely made a sound. Her whole body felt lit with heat and tension, each nerve firing as she was opened wider than ever before.
It hurt.
God, it hurt.
But she didn’t stop him.
She didn’t want him to stop.
“More,” she gasped, her breath shaky, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. “More…”
He grunted, pushing deeper.
Her back arched.
Her pussy clenched around him instinctively—resisting, then slowly giving in.
“Keep going,” she moaned, tears sliding from her eyes, lips brushing against his neck. “I can take it… I have to take it…”
His body pressed closer, heavier, deeper.
Mina whimpered, every part of her pussy stretched, stuffed, filled like never before.
But then something shifted.
The pain—the raw, aching stretch—began to soften.
It blurred.
Changed.
Her hips adjusted, rolling with him.
And suddenly—there—a flicker of something else.
Pleasure.
It started as a pulse.
A throb of heat.
Then another.
Her moan changed—less pained, more desperate. Her thighs loosened. Her pussy, once fighting to accommodate him, now welcomed the stretch.
She felt her slickness building again—growing.
And his cock was still pulsing, still pushing deeper.
I’m really doing this, she thought, eyes fluttering. I’m taking him. I’m taking his big black cock…
Her pussy began to throb around him—gripping, pulling, adjusting.
She sobbed out a shaky moan. “Yes… yes… just like that, papi…”
And as his hips rocked forward again, and her walls stretched to meet him, her mind surrendered.
I was made for this…
All Of Him…
He pushed deeper.
Mina’s fingers gripped the sheets.
Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips.
And then—he bottomed out.
A cry tore from her throat, not just from the shock of fullness—but from the overwhelming realization of what she had just done.
He was inside her.
All of him.
Thick, hot, pulsing… buried to the hilt.
Her pussy trembled around him, stretched to its absolute limit. She could feel him pressing against her cervix, deeper than she thought any man could reach.
And still—her hips rocked forward, begging for more.
The pain was still there, but it had been swallowed by pleasure. Her body was pulsing with it now, drenched in heat, sweat beading along her chest as she writhed beneath him.
She gasped, voice hoarse, lips brushing his ear.
“You’re… so deep…”
He groaned, grinding his hips into hers, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her even wider.
Mina’s eyes fluttered shut.
And somewhere in the fog of lust, pain, and utter surrender… it hit her.
This was who she was now.
This was her place.
This is what I am.
No more pretending. No more teasing games with her husband. No more whispered fantasies she used to shut down.
She had crossed the line.
And she wanted to be here.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him—this stranger whose cock was buried deep inside her—and gave him a breathless, blissful whisper:
“I’m your Albanian slut wife now…”
Her hands slid up his back, her hips rolling with his.
“Use me…”
She moaned as he pulled back—then drove forward again.
“Use me for that big black cock.”
And as he thrust deeper, hitting that spot again—hard, perfect—Mina moaned louder…
Her body shook.
Her eyes rolled.
And her identity, once so carefully guarded, was rewritten by pleasure.
No More Holding Back…
Mina’s voice was no longer a whisper—it was a cry, a moan, a need tearing itself out of her throat with every deep thrust.
Her body rocked under him, hips rolling, legs wrapped tight around his waist as if she could pull him even deeper. She was soaked, stretched, overwhelmed—and she never wanted it to stop.
“God, this cock…” she gasped, her fingers tangled in the sheets, head thrashing. “It’s too big, it’s so fucking deep…”
But her eyes were wild.
Hungry.
She didn’t want less.
She wanted more.
“More, papi—don’t stop—don’t you stop,” she begged, barely coherent, her voice thick with lust. “I can feel you everywhere…”
He grunted above her, driving into her with heavy, relentless rhythm, and she arched again, crying out as her breasts bounced with every thrust.
Her thoughts were a blur.
No past.
No husband.
No guilt.
Only heat and pressure and that thick black cock dragging inside her—filling her, claiming her.
Her hands slid down to her stomach, feeling the weight of him inside her. “You’re so deep,” she moaned, barely able to catch her breath. “You’re gonna break me…”
She looked up at him, eyes glassy, mouth parted.
And she smiled.
She wanted to be broken.
“Use me,” she whispered…
She felt her climax building—fast, wild, electric.
“I’ve never… never been fucked like this…”
Her moans turned into cries as her body bucked, helpless under him.
“I can’t stop,” she gasped. “I don’t want to stop.”
And in that moment, she wasn’t anyone’s wife, anyone’s anything.
She was just his.
Needing. Taking. Coming undone…
The Realization…
Mina was gone.
Her body writhed beneath him, drenched in sweat, fingers knotted in the sheets, moaning uncontrollably as he drove into her with deep, punishing strokes. Her walls gripped him tighter with every thrust, no longer fighting the stretch—now welcoming it. Her cries were filthy, desperate, shameless.
He felt impossibly deep.
She could feel every ridge, every throb, every heavy inch filling her.
And she loved it… but she was losing it—completely.
The pleasure had overtaken everything.
And then, somewhere between his hips slamming against hers and her body unraveling beneath him, the thought hit her.
Hard.
What if this is what I’ve always needed?
Her head dropped back, eyes wide, mouth open.
What if this is what I want now? Just this… just him… just this big, black cock.
The words echoed in her head—filthy, forbidden.
But they turned her on even more.
God, she thought, moaning louder as her body bucked beneath him. What if I only ever want this from now on?
Her husband’s voice flickered faintly in her memory—how he’d always whispered that she was meant for this, built for it.
She used to laugh it off.
Now?
She was gripping the sheets, legs wide open, body begging for more.
And she couldn’t deny it anymore.
“Yes… yes… deeper…” she sobbed. “You’re ruining me—ruining this Albanian pussy, papi…”
And she meant it.
And she loved it…
No Coming Back…
Mina’s body was no longer hers.
It was his—taken, opened, filled so completely she couldn’t breathe without moaning. Her thighs trembled around his hips. Her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her back arched as he drove into her, deeper than any man ever had, again and again, like he was trying to live inside her.
And maybe… she wanted him to.
“Yes…” she cried, her voice hoarse. “More. Harder.”
Her pussy pulsed around him, soaked and stretched, clinging to every inch like it never wanted to let go.
She had never felt so good.
So full.
So utterly ruined.
And her thoughts—God, her thoughts—weren’t just dirty. They were filthy.
This cock… it’s not just big—it’s everything.
It owns me right now. He owns me.
Another thrust—harder. Deeper.
She screamed.
Her body welcomed the pressure, the ache, the burn that had long since blurred into a kind of pleasure she’d never known.
He’s splitting me open and I fucking love it…
I’m not just taking him—I’m giving myself to him…
Her voice cracked as she sobbed out another moan, barely able to form words, her face flushed and slick with sweat.
I need it… I need this cock more than anything I’ve ever needed.
And then, dark and unfiltered in her mind:
This is the only cock I want now.
No going back.
Nothing else will ever fill me like this.
Her orgasm surged—violent, unstoppable. It ripped through her like a current, hips lifting, mouth open in a silent scream before it broke loose in a shattered cry:
“Yes—FUCK—I’m coming! I’m—”
Her whole body shook as waves of pleasure flooded her, squeezing around his cock in spasms so tight it made him groan, made him pause, made him curse under his breath.
And as the aftershocks wracked her, Mina knew—some part of her would never be the same.
She’d crossed a line… and she never wanted to go back.
Proof of Surrender…
Mina was still panting.
Her body twitched under him, thighs shaking, her skin hot and slick with sweat. She could feel him deep inside her—still hard, still thick, stretching her to the point where she no longer felt like herself. Her pussy pulsed around him, used and soaked, her legs splayed open in complete exhaustion… and complete satisfaction.
She had just crossed a line she’d never thought she would.
And she wanted her husband to see it.
The man who had whispered about this for years. Who had teased her, begged her, planted the idea like a seed that had finally bloomed into something wild and unstoppable.
Still breathless, her hand fumbled for her phone on the nightstand.
Her lover—still inside her—watched with a smirk, his chest rising and falling above hers, his hands stroking her thighs like he knew exactly what she was about to do.
Mina raised the phone and angled it down.
Click.
A photo.
His cock—still inside her. Her body spread wide, lips swollen and stretched around him, glistening, used, open in a way that would haunt her husband’s imagination for the rest of his life.
She took another.
Then one more.
Then slowly… she began to type:
You need to see what I’ve become.
This is what you always wanted, isn’t it?
Look at me. Mmm baby look how stretched I am by his big black cock. Look how deep he is…
This is what I was made for.
She hit send.
The message read delivered.
Seconds passed. Her heart thudded. Not from nerves—but from knowing how hard he would be the moment he saw it.
Her phone buzzed.
A simple reply:
Holy FUCK!!! I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Another:
You’re… so full. So ruined. And I’ve never been so hard in my life…
Mina smiled—lazy, satisfied, completely owned.
She turned her head to the side, still holding the phone, her voice low, sultry, and completely at peace:
“I wanted you to see it.”
And she meant it.
This wasn’t fantasy anymore.
It was her reality.
Claimed, and Claiming It…
Mina’s body trembled as she read her husband’s messages, still lying on her back with her lover’s cock buried deep inside her.
You’re… so full. So ruined. And I’ve never wanted you more.
The words hit her like another wave of heat.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath caught, and she moaned softly—still being filled, still being held open.
His replies didn’t just excite her.
They lit her on fire.
Her fingers moved fast, slick from sweat and arousal as she typed back.
You’ll never be able to take me like this again. His big black cock… baby I’m too stretched.
You always said this would happen. You were right.
She paused—then smirked, hips lifting slightly to meet the slow, grinding thrusts still rocking through her.
I’ll be too sore to let you reclaim me tonight…
But get ready. I’m sending you another picture when he finishes…
Behind her, her lover groaned—his grip tightening on her thighs, his rhythm deepening.
She could feel it.
His breathing had changed.
His cock throbbed harder.
He’s close.
Her body pulsed again around him—welcoming every last inch, aching with the anticipation of being filled.
And she wanted her husband to see that, too.
She turned her head, biting her lip, whispering low into her phone as she took one more shot—his thick length still stretching her fully, her body glistening, lips parted in a breathless smile:
He’s going to cum inside me…
He’s going to flood your wife’s pussy, baby… And I’m going to take every drop.
She hit send.
Then moaned, louder this time, as the man inside her growled against her neck.
It was happening…
Flooded…
Mina felt his body tense.
The rhythm shifted—his hips grinding harder, deeper, his grip on her thighs tightening like he was anchoring himself inside her. She knew the signs. Felt the thick, throbbing pulses inside her.
He was right there.
And so was she.
She reached blindly for her phone, hand trembling, sweat and slick still coating her fingers. She hit record—framing the camera low, angled just enough to capture everything her husband would need to see.
Her voice was already breaking, breath ragged.
“He’s cumming…” she moaned into the recording, her hand moving down to grip her lover’s waist. “He’s… oh my god—he’s cumming inside me.”
Her back arched, legs locked tight around his hips.
And then she felt it.
The first pulse.
Then another.
Thick, heavy, hot.
Filling her.
Flooding her.
She gasped into the camera, lips parted in disbelief and pleasure.
“I can feel it—I can feel it all,” she cried. “He’s filling me up—oh god… baby it’s so much.”
Her moans turned into cries as his body pressed deep into hers, unmoving now, buried as far as he could go. She could feel every twitch, every slow release, the heat spreading inside her as his grip tightened, holding her down while he emptied into her.
Her free hand slid across her stomach, breath hitching.
“I can feel him deep in my belly… it’s still coming—he won’t stop…”
Her fingers dug into his back, her voice trembling.
“Don’t stop, papi—keep going—give it all to me.”
Wave after wave.
Mina’s moans echoed in the room—raw, stunned, ruined.
She looked into the camera one last time, body still twitching beneath him, and whispered, voice cracked and breathless:
“This is what I was made for.”
She stopped the recording.
And saved it.
The Aftermath, and The Message…
Her body was still trembling.
Mina lay there, thighs parted, chest rising and falling, skin flushed and glistening under the dim hotel light. He was still inside her—thick, heavy, buried in her pussy. Every slight movement sent a fresh wave of overstimulated aftershocks through her core.
She could feel how full she was.
Stretched wide.
Used.
Claimed.
Her hand slid over her belly, fingertips brushing the faint curve low in her abdomen where she swore she could still feel the pressure. Her thighs were sticky, the sheets damp beneath her. She couldn’t close her legs if she tried.
And she didn’t want to.
He shifted slightly above her—still hard, still deep—and a groan slipped from her lips. Her head rolled to the side, reaching again for her phone.
The lock screen was still lit with her husband’s last message.
“You’re so full. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
Mina smiled—weak, wicked, glowing with satisfaction.
She opened the camera again, this time tilting it downward, capturing the impossibly stretched state of her pussy, her thighs spread wide, the glistening mess between them that even her body hadn’t fully processed yet.
She snapped the photo.
Then switched to video.
A soft moan escaped her as her lover rolled his hips slowly—just once—and she caught the subtle shift, the reminder that he was still inside her, still thick, still pressing everything — his cum — deeper…
Her voice was soft, but unmistakably hers. Raw. Possessed.
“He’s still inside me, baby. Still so deep…”
She gasped, her eyes fluttering as she kept recording.
“I’m still open… still leaking his cum…”
She paused, then whispered:
“How does it feel?”
“I’m finally your hotwife. A BBC hotwife…”
She stopped the video and sent both files.
Then followed with one final message:
You said this is what I was meant for. You were right.
Her thumb hovered for a second.
Then:
Send.
Round 2 Begins…
Mina lay still, her thighs loose, her skin glowing, her body still fluttering from everything it had just endured. Her lover was still on top of her, still inside her, his breath hot against her neck.
And then—she felt it.
A twitch.
Another.
His cock was getting hard — again…
Her breath caught. A deep, slow pulse rolled through her body as she reached down and felt him—already swelling back to full size inside her.
She moaned. Quiet at first. Then louder.
Her hand slid back to her phone.
She opened the message thread with her husband, barely able to type through the aftershocks of fullness and heat still rolling through her.
He’s getting hard again…
She paused.
Bit her lip.
Smiled.
Then started recording a voice message—low, breathy, wicked.
“Baby,” she whispered. “I can feel him getting thicker inside me again.”
She moaned softly, shifting her hips.
“You should be jerking off right now,” she purred. “Because I’m not done.”
She let out another breathless sigh, the kind her husband knew meant she was already starting to lose herself again.
“I might let you watch this time,” she said slowly, dragging out the words. “Or maybe I won’t.”
Another slow thrust from her lover made her gasp.
“Maybe I’ll just tell you what it felt like… later… when I’m dripping all over the sheets again.”
She ended the message.
Sent it.
Then turned her head and whispered to the man still inside her:
“Don’t hold back.”
Bent Over and Owned…
Mina braced herself on the edge of the bed, her arms shaking, knees parted wide. The sheets were damp beneath her, soaked with the warmth of his cum slowly leaking from her still-throbbing pussy. Her thighs slick and trembling. She was now bent over, completely exposed—lips parted, breath uneven, heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Behind her, he gripped her hips. Tight. Possessive.
And then he pushed back inside her.
She gasped—loud.
Even after everything, the second stretch hit just as hard. Her back arched, spine tightening as he filled her in one long, relentless push. Her moan turned into a cry.
He feels even deeper like this.
Every inch hit harder. Lower. Her body trembled, pussy pulsing, stretched again to take the full weight of him.
“Yes… yes…” she moaned into the mattress, eyes fluttering. “Just like that— don’t stop…”
His hips slammed into her, rhythm picking up, his cock dragging against every swollen, sensitive spot inside her. She was already overwhelmed again. Already soaked. Already giving in.
She dropped her head forward, voice barely more than a whisper.
I’ve never been taken like this…
Another thrust made her cry out, her hands gripping the sheets, her thighs shaking.
This isn’t just sex… this is something else.
This is what I want now.
The thought hit her like a jolt. And she didn’t deny it.
She pushed back into him—begging for more, taking it deeper, feeling him pound into her until her body felt owned.
Ruined.
Claimed.
Her moans grew louder, messier, more desperate.
She wasn’t faking a fantasy anymore.
This was her fantasy.
And she was living it—loving it.
Taken, Completely…
Mina’s body rocked beneath him, her fingers digging into the mattress, her moans no longer steady—they were broken, needy, relentless.
She was soaked, shaking, stretched to her limit, and still she kept pushing back against him, hips rolling with every thrust.
Her mind had given up trying to make sense of it.
There was no shame.
No hesitation.
Only this—his weight crashing into her again and again, filling her deeper than she thought possible. Her legs trembled, her inner thighs slick, her skin flushed and glowing.
Each time he bottomed out, she gasped.
Each time he grunted, she moaned louder.
And then it hit her—hard.
That need.
That wild, impossible need rising up from the center of her, spilling from her lips without thought, without filter, without fear.
“Don’t pull out,” she gasped, her voice cracking. “I want it. All of it.”
His hands gripped her harder.
“Fill me…”
Her breath caught—just before she said it.
And then she did.
“Breed me.”
The word escaped like a plea and a command all at once.
He groaned above her—louder than before—driven by her surrender.
“I want to feel it,” she moaned, barely coherent, lost in it now. “I want to feel you deep inside me. I want you to let go… inside me.”
And in that moment, she meant it.
Every word.
Every pulse of her body around him.
Every cry from her lips.
She wasn’t just letting it happen.
She needed it.
And she was ready to be taken—completely.
Claimed Without Question…
Mina’s moans echoed against the walls, louder now, filthier—her voice no longer her own. She was beyond words, beyond pride, beyond anything but the aching, relentless stretch of him pounding into her from behind.
Her body had long stopped resisting.
Now, it welcomed every thrust with a desperate pulse.
Her hands fisted the sheets, her legs wide, trembling, hips rolling back into him like she couldn’t get enough.
And the truth was—she couldn’t.
She could feel how close he was. His grip had tightened. His breathing was rough in her ear. His pace had become ragged—deeper, heavier, more erratic.
He was going to finish.
Inside her.
And that thought alone made her cry out again, pushing back, arching, losing herself completely.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice hoarse. “Please—don’t stop… I want it.”
Her voice broke as she gasped for air, words tumbling from her lips with no filter left.
“Breed me,” she moaned, louder this time. “Oh god — breed this Albanian pussy… so deep… I want it so bad—I need it.”
His rhythm faltered—his body responding to her words, her begging, the way her soaked, stretched pussy gripped him like it was made for his big black cock.
She cried out again, her voice trembling:
“Mark me… make me yours… fill me until I can’t take anymore—and then give me more.”
Her thighs quaked.
Her eyes rolled back.
“Claim me,” she whispered. “I want to feel it dripping, spilling out of me again when you’re done.”
He grunted—loud, guttural—slamming into her one last time, and she screamed as her body tensed, her own orgasm tearing through her just as she felt him begin to release, deep and hard, buried inside her.
And she took it all.
Afterglow and Ownership…
Mina lay still for a long time.
Her body was stretched, sore, soaking in the heat of what had just happened. Her skin was damp. Her thighs parted. Her breath still shallow, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She blinked slowly at the ceiling, trying to believe it was real.
She had done it.
Really done it.
She had let another man take her—completely.
Not in fantasy. Not in whispers.
For real.
And not just any man.
Someone who pushed her to her limits.
Who filled her until she thought she couldn’t take anymore—and then gave her more anyway.
Her body ached in the best way.
Her thoughts swirled.
She should have felt guilt.
But she didn’t.
Only pride.
Only heat.
Her lips curled into a faint, breathless smile.
Still glowing with aftershocks, she rolled onto her side and reached for him—her lover, sprawled beside her, breathing hard, chest rising and falling.
Without a word, she lowered her head and took him gently into her mouth.
Slow.
Soft.
Lovingly.
She sucked him not to build him back up—but to savor him. To taste everything they had just shared. Her fingers wrapped around the base, stroking slowly, her tongue teasing what her body had just taken fully inside.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
I did it.
And then, like a quiet, proud whisper in her mind:
I’m a BBC loving hotwife.
She moaned softly, mouth still wrapped around him, as the words repeated again—this time without hesitation.
Without fear.
I am.
Her hand drifted toward the phone on the nightstand. She unlocked it, opened her husband’s thread, and with trembling fingers, typed one final message:
I did it, baby.
I’m officially your Albanian BBC hotwife now…
Are you proud of me?
She looked down at herself—still nude, glowing, completely spent—and then to him.
Still thick.
Still warm against her cheek.
Still hers for the moment.
She lifted the phone once more and took one final picture—her face flushed, her eyes heavy with satisfaction, her lips curled into a wicked smile as she gently held his softening cock near her cheek, a quiet, intimate claim captured in the frame.
Thank you for wanting this for me… for letting me have this baby. I love you.
She hit send.
And settled back into the sheets, her body sore, full, and—for the first time—completely hers.
Final – Cloud Nine…
The room was quiet now.
Only the sound of the ocean in the distance, the occasional rustle of the curtains in the warm night breeze, and the soft rhythm of Mina’s breathing.
She lay on her back in the tangle of damp sheets, one leg lazily draped over her lover’s thigh, her hand resting on her stomach—where the ache still lingered. Not pain.
Just fullness.
Soreness.
Satisfaction.
A low hum of pleasure still pulsed through her body, like the echo of a song she didn’t want to stop playing.
Her hair clung to her skin, her lips slightly parted in a sleepy smile. Her thighs were still loose, open…and glistening with the slow leak of his seed — as if her body hadn’t quite closed itself off from what it had taken in. What it had welcomed.
She felt… free.
Not ashamed.
Not uncertain.
Free.
I really did it.
And more than that—she wanted to do it again.
She bit her lip, cheeks warming with a flush of pleasure just from the thought.
Because even as she basked in the afterglow of the most intense experience of her life, her mind was already drifting ahead.
Not just to a next time…
…but to a next level.
Two BBCs?
Maybe more?
She laughed softly to herself, fingers brushing between her thighs, still sticky, still throbbing, still open.
God… I might never stop.
She closed her eyes, let her head sink deeper into the pillow, and smiled again.
She was his hotwife now.
Fully.
Proudly.
And this?
This was only the beginning.