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

Chapter 854: Chapter 853- Clapping Her Deeply

I lifted her. The motion, which was smooth and sudden, raised her from the water. Her body, which was wet and slippery, was in my arms. I stood. The water, which had been supporting her, fell away.

Her ass, which was thick and round, was pressed against my cock. The crack, which was wet and warm, was a channel. My shaft, which was hard and hot, slid between the cheeks. The head, which was at the top, pressed against her lower back.

I carried her. Out of the bath. Into the bedroom. The air, which was cool after the warmth of the bathroom, made her skin prickle. Her nipples, which had been stiff, went harder.

I placed her on the bed. The sheets, which were clean and white, were soft against her back. Her body, which was wet and naked, was a picture. The blonde hair, spread on the pillow. The blue eyes, wide and wet. The breasts, heavy and full, which rose and fell with each rapid breath. The nipples, dark and stiff, which pointed at the ceiling. The belly, soft and rounded. The hips, wide and curved. The thighs, which were pressed together. The pussy, which was hidden.

I spread her legs. My hands, on her knees, pushed. The thighs, which had been together, parted. The pussy, which had been hidden, was revealed. The hair, blonde and fine. The lips, swollen and pink. The slit, which was wet and open. The entrance, which was tight and small.

I positioned myself. My cock, which was hard and ready, found the entrance. The head, which was dark and swollen, pressed against the lips. The contact, which was hot and wet, was a promise.

”Be gentle,” she whispered. The words, which were a plea, were the words of a woman who was about to lose something that could not be regained. ”Please. Professor. Be gentle.”

I pushed. The head, which was large, entered. The lips, which were swollen, spread. The entrance, which was tight, stretched. The walls, which were wet, gripped. The resistance, which was the hymen, was there. The barrier, which was thin and fragile, was the last defense.

I pushed through.

”AAAH...!!”

Her scream, which was pain and shock and loss, filled the room. Her body, which had been relaxed, went rigid. Her hands, which had been at her sides, flew to my shoulders. Her nails, which were short, dug in. The pain, which was sharp and immediate, was the pain of a woman whose body was being opened for the first time.

I held. The stillness, which was not a pause but a comfort, was a gift. The time, which was measured in breaths, allowed her body to adjust. The walls, which had been clenched, relaxed. The pain, which had been sharp, dulled.

”Are you all right?” I said. The question, which was genuine, was the question of a man who cared.

She nodded. The motion, which was small and tight, was the motion of a woman who was processing. Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut, opened. Wet. Red. But open.

”Yes,” she whispered. ”Yes. Just... go slow.”

I moved. My hips, which had been still, began to rock. The motion, which was slow and gentle, was a beginning. The cock, which had been still, slid. In and out. The walls, which had been tight, yielded. The friction, which was wet and warm, was a pleasure.

Pah... pah... pah...

The sound, which was soft and wet, was the sound of a man making love to a virgin. The pace, which was measured, was a respect. The depth, which was controlled, was a kindness.

”Professor,” she moaned. The word, which was not a protest but a name, was the word she used. Not my name. My title. The title, which was a boundary, was also a thrill. The forbidden, which was the student and the professor, was a kink that she had not known she had.

”Professor... it hurts... but... it also... AH...!!”

I moved deeper. The cock, which had been shallow, went further. The walls, which had been tight, stretched. The head, which had been at the entrance, reached the hymen’s former position. The barrier, which was gone, was a memory. The depth, which was new, was a discovery.

She looked down. At her belly. At the bulge, which was visible. The outline of my cock, which was thick and veined, was pressing against her lower belly. The skin, which was pale and soft, was stretched by the internal pressure. The shape, which was unmistakable, was the shape of a man inside a woman.

”That is...” she whispered. Her eyes, which had been on the bulge, went wide. ”That is inside me. That is your... you are...”

I moved faster. The pace, which had been slow, increased. The cock, which had been gentle, became firm. The thrusts, which had been shallow, went deep. The sound, which had been soft, became loud.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

”OUNGH...!! ... professor...!! ... AH...!! ... it is... HAAANGH...!! ... it is too much...!!”

Her breasts, which had been still, began to move. The flesh, heavy and full, responded to the rhythm. Each thrust, which drove her body upward, sent them in motion. The motion, which was up and down, was a visual. The nipples, dark and stiff, pointed at the ceiling with each impact. The areolas, wide and textured, were visible. The flesh, soft and pale, rippled with each contact.

I kissed her. My mouth, which had been watching her face, found hers. The kiss, which was deep and wet, swallowed her moans. My tongue, pushing in, found hers. The taste, which was salt and mint and arousal, was a communion.

”I love you,” I said against her lips. The words, which were not a declaration but a statement, were the words that her body needed to hear. The words, which were the words of a lover, were the words that transformed the act from a taking to a giving.

She trembled. The words, which hit her heart, broke the last wall. The tears, which had been held back, fell. Not from pain. From something else. Something that she did not have a name for.

”I love you too,” she whispered. The words, which were not thought but felt, were the words of a woman who had been conquered. ”I love you too, professor. I love you too.”

’Professor.’ The word, which she used instead of my name, was a kink. A thrill. The forbidden, which was the student and the teacher, was a spice that made the act hotter. The taboo, which was the power dynamic, was a tension that made the pleasure sharper.

I fucked her. The pace, which had been building, reached its peak. The thrusts, which had been deep, became deeper. The cock, which had been firm, became hard. The sound, which had been loud, became louder.

Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah PAAAH!

”OUNGH...!! ... AH...!! ... HAAANGH...!! ... professor...!! ... I love you... HIEEENGH...!! ... I love you, professor...!! ... AAANGH...!!”

The bed, which had been still, shook. The sheets, which had been clean, were wet. The sound, which was flesh on flesh, filled the room. The moans, which were continuous and overlapping, were a symphony.

Her body, which had been rigid, was now pliant. Her legs, which had been spread, were wrapped around my waist. Her arms, which had been at her sides, were around my neck. Her mouth, which had been screaming, was on mine. The kiss, which was continuous and deep, was a seal.

I slammed. The final thrust, which was deep and total, hit her cervix. The head, which had been pushing against the entrance, pushed through. Into her womb. She screamed. The sound, which was muffled by the kiss, was a vibration against my lips.

I came.

The cum, thick and hot, pumped into her. Rope after rope. The heat, spreading through her core, was the incubus seed. The energy, flowing into her, healed and transformed and claimed. Her body, absorbing the mana, glowed faintly. The skin, which had been pale, became luminous. The eyes, which had been blue, brightened.

She came. The orgasm, which hit her at the same time, was devastating. Her body, which had been wrapped around me, convulsed. Her pussy, which had been tight, clamped. The walls, which had been gripping, milked. The fluid, her own arousal, sprayed from around my shaft. The bed, already wet, became wetter.

”AAANGH...!! ... professor...!! ... I love you...!! ... I love you...!! ... HAAANGH...!!”

I held her. My arms, around her body, kept her close. My cock, which was still inside her, throbbed. The cum, which was still pumping, filled her. The overflow, leaking from around the shaft, ran down her ass. Onto the sheets. Onto the bed.

We stayed. The position, which was a tangle of limbs and breath and fluid, was a rest. The kiss, which had been continuous, softened. The lips, which had been pressing, were resting. The breath, which had been ragged, slowed.

”Professor,” she whispered. The word, which was the only word she could form, was a name. A title. A claim.

I kissed her neck. The skin, which was warm and soft, tasted like salt and perfume. I bit. The mark, which I left, was a signature. A brand. A statement.

She trembled. The bite, which was not painful but possessive, was a reminder. Of who she belonged to. Of who had taken her. Of who she had given herself to.

I started again. My hips, which had been still, began to move. The cock, which had been softening, hardened. The walls, which had been relaxed, tightened. The sound, which had been quiet, returned.

Pah... pah... pah...

”Professor,” she gasped. The word, which was a protest and a plea, was the word of a woman who was being started again. ”I cannot... I just...”

”You can,” I said. My voice, which was low and firm, was the voice of a man who knew her body better than she did. ”You will.”

I fucked her again. The pace, which was slow at first, built. The thrusts, which were deep, went deeper. The sound, which was wet, was louder.

Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah PAAAH!

”OUNGH...!! ... AH...!! ... HAAANGH...!! ... professor...!! ... I love you...!! ... I love you, professor...!! ... AAANGH...!! ... HIEEENGH...!!”