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

Chapter 715: Chapter 714 - About to be caught red-handed

His hand pushed her panty aside.

The fabric, already wet and displaced, was hooked by his finger. Pulled. The cotton, stretching, slid to the left. Her pussy, the hairy, wet, swollen pussy that had been hidden beneath layers of cloth, was exposed.

The dark hair, thick and untrimmed, covered her mound. The lips, swollen and pink, glistened with arousal. The inner lips, darker, peeked from within. The clitoris, engorged, was hidden beneath its hood.

His finger found her entrance.

One finger. The tip, calloused and warm, pressed against the opening. The flesh, virgin, resisted. The hymen, the thin membrane that she had protected her entire adult life, was there. His finger pressed against it. Not breaking. Pressing. The ’I-know-you-are-a-virgin-and-I-am-here’ pressure.

One inch. The finger pushed in. Past the outer lips. Into the canal. The walls, wet and tight, gripped. The muscle, the vaginal sphincter, clenched. The finger, one inch inside, was held.

He pulled out.

The withdrawal was slow. Deliberate. The finger, wet with her arousal, emerged. The tip, glistening, was visible. The scent, the musky, sweet, ’I-am-aroused’ scent of a woman’s arousal, hit the air.

”Ah—!!♡!!” she gasped. The emptiness, the ’he-pulled-out’ void, was somehow worse than the intrusion. Her hips, against her will, chased. The ’come-back’ movement that her body produced while her mind screamed at it to stop.

His tail moved.

The prehensile appendage, scaled and responsive, slid from behind his back. The long, flexible length curved over her thigh. Down. Between her legs. The tip, narrow and textured, found her pussy. The entrance, wet and slightly stretched from the finger, was there. The tail pressed against it. Not penetrating. Resting. The ’I-am-here’ contact that was both threat and promise.

One inch. The tail pushed in. The scaled surface, ribbed and textured, scraped her walls. The sensation was different from the finger. Broader. More textured. The ’something-is-inside-me’ sensation that made her canal clench and release.

Two inches. The tail pushed deeper. The walls, wet and tight, gripped the scaled surface. The texture, the ribs, stimulated every nerve ending. The tail, navigating the canal, found the barrier.

The hymen.

The tip pressed against it. Not breaking. Pushing. The pressure was constant. Insistent. The ’I-am-going-to-go-through-this’ pressure that was both promise and threat.

The vibration started.

BZZZZ—!!

”AAAAAAHH—!!♡♡♡♡♡!!”

The tail, pressed against her hymen, vibrated. The sensation, the high-frequency, intense, ’right-against-my-virginity’ vibration, was too much. The nerve endings, concentrated in the hymen and the surrounding tissue, overloaded. The signal, the ’everything-is-firing-at-once’ signal, traveled through her body like lightning.

Her tongue came out. Her eyes rolled. Her back arched off the grass. Her hands, which had been gripping the grass beside her, found nothing. Her fingers tore at the earth. Pulled. The grass came free. The roots, shallow, gave way.

She squirted.

The fluid, thin and clear, erupted from her pussy. The stream, forced out by the vaginal contractions, hit the tail. Ran down the scaled surface. Splashed onto the grass. The wet, ’she-came-from-a-tail-on-her-hymen’ orgasm was the most intense she had experienced. More than the garden. More than the finger. The ’my-body-is-betraying-me-at-the-most-fundamental-level’ orgasm that made her whole body convulse.

”AAAAHH—!!♡♡♡!! GODDESS—!!♡♡♡!! FORGIVE—!!♡♡♡!! ME—!!♡♡♡♡!!”

Her body went limp. The orgasm, the full-body, ’I-cannot-move’ orgasm, drained everything. Her muscles, which had been locked, released. Her back, arched, fell. Her legs, straight, went soft. Her arms, clawing, dropped. Her head, tilted back, lolled to the side.

She lay on the grass. The wet, soaked, grass. Her robe, displaced, was bunched at her waist. Her breasts, heavy and exposed, lay on either side of her chest. The nipples, wet with milk and saliva, were dark and swollen. Her skirt, raised, showed her pussy. The hairy, wet, freshly-orgasmed cunt. The lips, swollen and pink, were visible. The tail, still inside, was still. The panty, displaced, was bunched on one side.

Viktor moved. He shifted. His body, knees on either side of her waist, straddled her belly. He sat. His weight, the solid, muscular weight of a man, settled on her abdomen. His hands found her breasts. Both of them. He cupped. The heavy mounds, the pale flesh, filled his palms. He groped. Squeezed. The milk, the residual fluid, beaded on both nipples.

He looked down at her. At the violet eyes, half-lidded and glazed. At the open mouth. At the swollen lips. At the tear-stained face. At the breasts in his hands. At the body beneath him, spent and trembling and his.

”Congratulations,” he said. The word was warm. Almost genuine. The ’I-am-happy-for-you’ tone that was absurd given the circumstances.

Myra blinked. The fog, the pink, warm fog, was clearing. The orgasm, the aftershock, was fading. Her brain, rebooting, processed the word.

”What?” she whispered.

”Now you can give not just healing,” Viktor said. His hands, on her breasts, squeezed. The milk, the thin, white fluid, squirted. Thin streams from both nipples. The liquid hit his bare chest. Ran down. ”But maternal milk to the babies.”

Myra’s eyes widened. The violet irises, already large, consumed her face. The ’what’ realization. The ’milk’ realization. She looked down. At her breasts. At the nipples. At the white fluid, the milk, that was leaking from both.

”What?” she said. The word was strangled. Choked. The ’this-cannot-be-happening’ word that came out as a whisper. ”How? I am not pregnant.”

Viktor chuckled. The sound was low. Warm. The ’you-don’t-understand-yet’ chuckle that was both amusement and anticipation.

”You would be soon enough,” he said. The words were quiet. Final. The ’I-have-decided’ tone that allowed no argument. ”When I am done with you after this.”

The ’after this’ hung in the air. The implication, the ’I-am-going-to-fuck-you-and-then-impregnate-you’ implication, was clear.

He leaned. His mouth found her right breast. The nipple, stiff and leaking, was taken. His lips wrapped around the areola. His cheek hollowed. He sucked. The milk, the warm, sweet fluid, flowed. Filled his mouth. He swallowed. Drank. The sound, the rhythmic ’gulp-gulp-gulp’, filled the clearing.

His cock responded.

The erection, the sudden, violent, ’his-body-is-reacting-to-her-milk’ erection, was immediate. The shaft, twelve inches, hardened in his trousers. The fabric, strained. The button, the single button holding his waistband closed, was stressed. The thread, the stitching, creaked.

Pop.

The button gave. The waistband opened. The cock, twelve inches, the thick, veiny, enhanced shaft, sprang free. The head, dark and swollen, emerged from the foreskin. The pre-cum, thin and clear, beaded on the slit.

Myra saw it.

The cock, the same cock she had seen in the bathroom. The same cock that had been inside Berenga. The same cock that had fucked the commander of the night order in a bathroom while she watched. The same twelve inches, the same thickness, the same veins, the same dark head. It was there. Inches from her face. Hard. Dripping. Ready.

”N-no—” she whispered. Her violet eyes, locked on the shaft, were enormous. ”It is impossible. I cannot take it. It is too big. It is—”

A ball bounced.

The sound, the hollow ’thump-thump’ of a leather ball hitting grass, came from beside her. The ball, small and worn, rolled to a stop three feet from her head. The children, the orphanage children, were playing nearby. The ball had strayed.

A boy’s voice, young and bright, called out.

”Oh! A ball! I am going to bring it!”

The sound of running feet. Small. Quick. The ’patter-patter-patter’ of a child running through grass. Getting closer.

Myra’s blood went cold.

”Wait—” she whispered. The panic, the ’a-child-is-coming’ panic, was absolute. ”Wait, no. Not here. They would see me like this. Please. Please, not here. The children—”