novel-bin Chapter 510 - 509- Sigh... What you might be Doing Elena?
Chapter 510 - 509- Sigh... What you might be Doing Elena?
Deep. Sloppy. The ’I am taking your mouth the same way I take everything else’ kiss that left no room for anything polite — his tongue dominating, her muffled sounds vibrating against his lips, the wet, obscene slurp of two mouths working against each other filling the air above Senna’s gagging and Eliantra’s floor-moaning.’Slurrrp— mmmhh~!!’
"Mmmphhh~!! Master— your tongue— I’m cumming just from your ’mouth’—!!"
She was.
Her cunt, two days removed from being a virgin cunt, clenched and released and soaked her inner thighs without being touched, the ’I discovered kissing and cumming in the same week and they are apparently connected for me’ response of a woman whose nervous system had been reorganized by a single encounter.
His tail plunged into Eliantra.
Not her ass — Viktor had reconsidered. He would take that himself, in his own way, when the moment was exactly right. For now the tail had a different assignment. It plunged into her hairy, gaping, ’please something fill me’ cunt — the spade tip pressing deep, finding the interior walls, pressing against the place his cock had been carving for an hour.
Then the vibration.
"AAAAAHHH~!!! WHAT IS— IT’S ’VIBRATING’— MY WOMB IS ’SHAKING’—!!"
The tail worked her. Thoroughly. Relentlessly. The spade tip pressing against every wall in sequence, the vibration running from her cunt up through her belly, into her chest, out through her hands that clawed the carpet. Her milk hit the floor in a continuous spray from both nipples simultaneously.
Her thick thighs opened wider.
Her fat, juicy ass pushed back against the tail with the same ’body has overruled everything’ urgency that had been pushing back against his cock for the last hour.
"MASTERRR~!! IT’S TOO MUCH— SOMETHING IS COMING— IT’S TOO DEEP— I’M GOING TO—"
She squirted.
The full, ’eleven years of a Count who never found anything’ equivalent — Eliantra’s womb releasing in a fountain, a hard, messy spray that hit the carpet three feet ahead of her face, her thighs shaking with the full-body ’this is what my body does when it is actually reached’ convulsion of it. Her voice dropped into something below language.
"Ohhhhh... ’ohhhh’... it won’t stop... Master it won’t— ’hhnngh~!!’"
It did not stop.
The tail kept vibrating.
She kept going.
Viktor pulled his cock from Senna’s throat with the wet, decisive pop of a man who has decided the scene is changing.
Senna coughed. Hard. The ’my throat was fully occupied for several minutes’ cough that bent her forward, strings of saliva hanging from her lips to his cock tip, her hands on her knees, saggy tits swinging with the convulsion of it before she collapsed sideways against the bedframe, chest heaving, face a wreck of tears and spit and something that looked embarrassingly like satisfaction.
"’Gkhh— haaah—’" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Her cunt was dripping on the carpet.
She looked down at herself. Sixty-three years old, cum-glazed, throat-used, soaked between the thighs, and apparently incapable of being more honest with herself than she was right now.
"...thank you, Master," she said. Hoarse. Genuine.
Viktor did not respond.
He was already positioning.
He brought them forward.
Rihana first — pulled by the horn from his side, her chubby knees finding the floor, the cow-tribe woman’s thick, flushed body trembling, cheeks glazed with her own tears from the nipple-pulling, milk still running in thin white tracks down the curve of her heavy breasts. Then Senna — guided by the gray braid, the old woman arranging herself with the careful, ’my knees are sixty-three years old’ deliberateness of someone making accommodation for the body she actually had.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Faces up.
Mouths open.
Eliantra remained on all fours behind him, ass raised, tail withdrawn, the absence of it leaving her cunt twitching and leaking onto the already-ruined carpet. Her face, sideways against the floor, watched him from that angle with swollen, exhausted, ’I know what is about to happen and I am staying exactly where I am’ eyes.
Viktor stroked.
Fast. The ’I have decided the finish and I am executing it’ speed of a man who knows where each rope is going before it leaves.
"Open," he said.
Both women opened.
The first rope hit Rihana across the nose and left eye — thick, hot, heavy enough that she flinched and her eye squeezed shut, the white landing across her cheekbone and running into the corner of her mouth. More across her lips, catching her open tongue, dragging across her chin. Her other eye went wide and then soft — the ’this is on my face and I am choosing to hold perfectly still for it because I want all of it’ expression of a newly-not-a-virgin woman making a discovery about herself.
"Hnnn~... Master’s so ’hot’..." she breathed. Her tongue moved. She tasted it. Her cunt clenched visibly between her thighs.
He turned.
Eliantra’s raised ass waited.
The next rope landed directly across her crack — the ’this is a claim and the geometry makes the intention clear’ precision of it running down between her cheeks, pooling over her winking hole, over her swollen lips, dripping from the soft underside of her heavy, hairy cunt.
Eliantra gasped. Her hips lurched forward at the heat of impact then, slowly, pressed back. Toward it.
"Master— please— I can’t—" She didn’t finish.
Both directions the sentence could have ended were equally true.
Viktor looked at her asshole — winking in the moonlight, slowly sucking his seed inward with the patient, dumb biology of preparation. He watched it for a moment.
’That one is mine,’ he thought. ’Next time.’
He turned back.
Senna had both hands cupped under her sagging tits, holding them up and together — the sixty-three-year-old woman’s complete, unhesitating abandonment of dignity in favor of something more honest than dignity had ever offered her.
He finished across her breasts.
Thick ropes coating her dark, hard nipples, running down into the creased softness, glazing the full surface of what she was offering. The warmth landed on her wrinkled skin and Senna made a sound she had not made since her husband died eleven years ago — low, quiet, the sound of something remembered.
"It’s so warm," she said. The genuine, startled quality of someone who had forgotten warmth was available.
"It’s been..." She touched one glazed nipple with a fingertip. "...it’s been so long."
Rihana leaned forward first.
Her tongue found the tip of his cock and moved across it in a slow, flat stroke — the ’I am cleaning my Master and I intend to take my time’ pace of a woman who had learned that the slower she worked, the longer she was permitted to continue.
’Slurrp... slurrp...’
Senna recovered herself and came in from the other side, her wrinkled tongue finding his shaft, her aged hands settling gentle and familiar on his thighs. Together — one thick and soft and three days out of virginity, one experienced and wrinkled and newly awakened from eleven years of dormancy — they worked his cock in slow, thorough tandem. Their tongues met occasionally over his shaft, neither commenting on it, both continuing.
’Slurrp. Lick. Slurrp.’
His cock twitched between them.
Both women felt it and pressed closer.
Viktor put one hand in Rihana’s hair. One hand in Senna’s gray braid. Possessive. The ’you are mine and I am not concerned about clarifying this’ grip of a man who had stopped making arguments and was simply stating facts with his hands.
He looked at the window.
Moonlight. The same moonlight that had been there for the full duration of the evening, indifferent, clean, coming through the tall glass in a wide silver sheet that laid itself across three wrecked women and one man and the soaked carpet and did not form any opinion about any of it.
Somewhere past the dark treeline, the academy sat.
With its students. Its classrooms. One specific girl in whatever state the mirror had left her — whatever shape ’watching your mother cum for another man while she looked at you and said your name’ had carved into her by now.
"Elena," Viktor said.
Not to anyone.
Just the name. Released into the wet, moonlit room the way you release something you are not worried about losing because it is already moving toward you on its own.
He chuckled.
Low. Genuine. "I wonder if she’s more angry or more complicated than angry."
His cock twitched.
Rihana swallowed reflexively around his tip. ’Slurrp.’
"I’ll go soon," he said. To the window. To the moonlight. To no one. "I’ll collect what tonight started."