100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 659: Chapter 658 - Helena Got Saved by Her Panty

”She just teleported away,” he muttered. His hand found his cock. Squeezed. The cum that remained on the shaft — Mira’s anal residue — was smeared under his fingers. He looked at the mirror. At the mess. At the three maids who were standing frozen, their faces crimson, their hands in places they shouldn’t be.

He turned toward Helena.

The nanny stood by the bed. Her brown eyes were enormous. Her hands were on her belly — protective, instinctive, the maternal shield. Her enormous, milk-swollen tits heaved with ragged breathing. Her brown bun was half-unraveled, strands falling across her face. Her cheeks were pink. Her lips were parted. She had watched the entire thing. Watched Mira — her fellow wife, her friend, the woman she had helped shave — get turned from a commanding presence into a screaming, anal-destroyed, mirror-plastered bitch.

”Wait — husband,” Helena said. Her voice was high. Breathless. ”There are maids here—”

Viktor chuckled.

He pounced.

His body crossed the distance in a single movement — enhanced speed, the Catorian bloodline making him a blur. Helena yelped. Her back hit the bed. Her pregnant body bounced on the mattress — the belly jostling, the tits swaying heavily, the milk sloshing inside the swollen mounds.

His hands found her dress. The neckline — already strained, already pulled down to expose her tits for his earlier feeding — gave way. He pulled. The fabric tore. Her tits fell free — enormous, heavy, the pale skin stretched taut, the blue veins visible beneath. The dark nipples were stiff, leaking, the milk beading on the tips.

He groped her. His hand closed over her right tit — the flesh deforming, the milk spraying from the pressure. His mouth found her left tit. He kissed the nipple. Then sucked.

”Ahhh~♡” Helena’s moan was soft. Maternal. But her body — her thick, pregnant, MILF body — responded with something far less maternal. Her back arched. Her legs spread. Her hips rolled. Her hands found his head — her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him against her chest.

Her legs flailed. Over her pregnant belly. Her feet kicked at nothing — the involuntary response of a body being stimulated. Her thighs spread wider, the dress riding up, her panty visible. White cotton. Simple. Practical. The nanny’s undergarment.

His hand found it.

His fingers hooked the waistband. He pulled — not down, not off. Sideways. To the left. The fabric stretched, pulled aside, exposing her pussy. The hairy, swollen, pregnant cunt — the lips thick and dark, the pink flesh between them glistening. Her clit was enlarged, peeking from its hood.

He positioned his cock.

The head pressed against her entrance. The thick, cum-slicked, Mira-ass-flavored head nestled between her hairy lips. The heat was immediate. Her cunt was wet — soaked, the arousal dripping from her entrance, running over her taint, staining the white cotton of her panty.

He slammed.

PAAAH!!

”AAAAAHH~!!!♡♡♡!!!”

But the panty.

The fabric — stretched sideways, pulled taut across his shaft — caught him. The elastic tension of the cotton created resistance. A band of pressure around his cock, pulling outward, fighting his inward thrust. The material was strong — reinforced, perhaps enchanted, the 100x Divine Tailor abilities that Helena didn’t know she already possessed passively enhancing everything she wore.

Seven inches. The panty stopped him. The elastic band, pressed against the base of his shaft, created a barrier — a cock-ring effect, the pressure actually making him harder, the blood trapped in the shaft. But the depth was limited. Seven inches in, and the fabric wouldn’t stretch further.

”The panty’s got some strength,” Viktor said, his voice strained with amusement. ”It’s good. It will protect you for a moment.”

It was like a rubber condom pulling his cock from fucking her all the way. Seven inches slamming in and out. The elastic tension massaging his shaft with each stroke — the fabric stretching on the in-stroke, contracting on the out-stroke, creating a pulsing, squeezing, ’milking’ sensation along the length.

PAH PAH PAH!!

”AAAAHH~!!♡♡!! SLOW — SLOW DOWN — HAAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!”

He didn’t slow down.

PAH PAH PAAH PHACK!!

”AAAHH~!!♡♡!! IT’S — TOO MUCH — MY PUSSY — HAAAH~!!♡♡♡!!”

He fucked her. Seven inches, rapid-fire, the panty-protected thrusts hitting her G-spot with each stroke. The angle was different — the limited depth meaning his cockhead pressed against the upper wall of her vaginal canal, the ridge grinding against the spongy tissue of her G-spot with every thrust.

Helena’s eyes rolled.

”AAAAHH~!!♡♡!! I CAN’T — EVERY THRUST — IT HITS — AAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!”

He leaned down. His mouth found her ear. His breath was hot. His voice was low.

”Do you remember how my cock looked when I was a child?”

Helena’s eyes snapped open. Her face — already flushed — went crimson.

”Wh — what?”

”Have you ever imagined? Masturbated yourself? Looking at a boy?” His hips didn’t stop. The seven-inch thrusts continued, the panty stretching and contracting, the rhythm relentless. ”Let me see — you used to bathe me. You used to wash me. You saw it then. A tiny thing. A boy’s thing.”

”DON’T — don’t say that — Young Master, I never —” Helena’s voice was high. Mortified. The maternal woman — the nanny who had raised him, who had bathed him as a child, who had changed his clothes and washed his small, childish body — was hearing the boy she raised describe his childhood penis while fucking her.

”I know you were a virgin,” Viktor said. His voice was warm. His hips drove deeper — seven and a half, the panty stretching further. ”But have you ever imagined? That the boy you bathed would grow up? That his cock would become this?”

He thrust. Seven and a half inches. The panty creaked.

”That you would get fucked by it? Impregnated? That you would be lying here, pregnant with his child, about to give birth — his nanny turned into his wife, his bitch, his cum dump?”

”NO — PLEASE — DON’T SAY IT—”

She was embarrassed. The shame — the deep, burning, nanny-shame of a woman who had raised a boy and was now being fucked by the man that boy had become — was crushing her. But beneath the shame, her body was responding. Her cunt was clenching. Her walls were squeezing. Her milk was flowing. Her hips were rolling — meeting his thrusts, pushing upward, the body’s instinct overriding the mind’s protest.

’He was so small,’ she thought. The memory surfaced — unbidden, unwanted, hot. ’I used to wash him. His tiny — it was so small. I held it in my fingers to clean it. And now — now it’s inside me. Inside the woman who washed him. Splitting me open. Filling me. Making me—’

”NO — please — I never thought — I never imagined—”

PAH PAAH!!

”AAAHH~!!♡♡!!”

She was lying. Her body was telling the truth her mouth denied. Her pussy was clenching harder. Her breathing was ragged. Her tits were leaking milk in steady streams — the let-down reflex triggered by the stimulation, by the memory, by the shame.

He sucked her tit. His mouth clamped over her right nipple. He sucked. The milk came — warm, sweet, thin. It poured into his mouth, over his tongue, down his throat. The 100x Celestial Chef ability made the milk a buff — recovery, stamina, arousal enhancement. The moment it entered his system, his cock hardened further. The shaft swelled inside her. The panty stretched — eight inches now, the fabric groaning, the elastic reaching its limit.

”AAAAHH~!!♡♡!! HE’S SUCKING — WHILE FUCKING — AAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!”