Read Novel Full Chapter 885: Sinful Big Sister 2 (r-18)
Chapter 885: Sinful Big Sister 2 (r-18)
Every instinct screamed to close her legs, to hide, but his grip was iron wrapped in velvet and she was already too far gone to fight.
Her outer lips were flushed dark rose—puffy, parted slightly from arousal alone—revealing the slick, glistening inner folds beneath. Her clit stood fully engorged at the top—small, pearl-pink, throbbing visibly with each frantic heartbeat. Below it the narrow entrance wept steadily: clear, thick arousal dripping in slow, obscene strings that stretched and broke against the sheets, pooling beneath her ass in a shameful little lake.
Every tiny detail glowed in his vision—every quiver, every fresh bead of wetness, every involuntary flutter of her opening as though it was already trying to pull something inside.
He stared—long, ravenous, silent. The wet sound of her breathing filled the room; the slick, sticky noise of her pussy clenching on nothing was louder still.
Sarah’s hands flew back to her face—palms clamped so hard her knuckles blanched white. Tears leaked steadily from beneath her fingers.
A high, fractured "no... please don’t stare..." leaked out, muffled and broken. But her hips—traitorous, desperate—tilted upward another fraction, presenting herself more completely even as shame wracked her whole body.
Peter exhaled against her virgin cunt—hot breath washing directly over her swollen clit. The scent of virginity and her unbroken barrier flared into him. She jolted like she’d been shocked; a fresh gush of wetness slid out and down her perineum toward the tight pucker below.
He leaned in again, mouth hovering so close that each slow exhale felt like molten silk pouring directly over her raw, still-pulsing cunt.
Her thighs shook violently, muscles jumping under the skin, inner thighs glossy with a thick film of her own cum and his spit. The sheets beneath her ass were sodden — a dark, wet halo that clung to her skin and made obscene squelching noises every time she shifted even a millimeter.
She was wrecked — chest heaving, limbs heavy, clit still fat and dark from the first orgasm — yet the tiny entrance at the bottom of her slit kept fluttering open and closed like a hungry little mouth, leaking fresh, clear nectar in slow, syrupy threads that stretched and snapped against the soaked cotton below.
Peter’s gaze never wavered from hers. "Not done yet," he rasped, voice thick with dark hunger. "I’m going to make this little pussy come. Slow. Until you’re crying for it."
A high, broken whimper slipped from her. Her hands clawed weakly at the sheets; shame burned fresh across her chest.
She was still wide open — swollen outer lips parted and flushed deep rose, inner petals glistening like wet silk, clit standing proud and visibly throbbing, entrance winking and drooling with every heartbeat.
"Peter... it’s too much... too sensitive..." Her voice cracked into nothing.
He ignored her. Started with nothing but his breath — long, deliberate, scorching gusts fanning directly across her engorged clit.
Each exhale made the little knot jerk and swell harder; a fresh bead of slick welled up at her hole and slid obscenely down toward the crease of her ass. She gasped — sharp, mortified — hips twitching upward as if trying to chase the heat.
Then his mouth descended — but not where she ached most. Soft, wet kisses along the puffy outer lips.
He sucked one plush fold into his mouth — slow, deliberate — lips sealing around the tender flesh, tongue stroking the silky inner surface before releasing it with a loud, wet pop that echoed in the room.
He did the same to the other side — sucking, laving, letting the plump lip drag out of his mouth inch by glistening inch.
Her breaths turned ragged. A tiny, shattered "ohhh..." leaked out — needy, humiliated. She tried to close her legs; his hands clamped harder, thumbs digging into the soft meat of her inner thighs, forcing her cunt to stay spread wide, every dripping detail exposed to the cool air and his unrelenting stare.
He moved inward — tongue now painting long, flat strokes up the inner lips. The glossy petals trembled under the broad pressure — slick, swollen, coated in a thick sheen of her arousal.
He parted them wider with the tip of his tongue alone, sliding into the hot, slippery valley between, tasting the salty-sweet flood that coated every fold. The sounds were filthy: wet, slurping drags, the soft squish of tongue against drenched flesh.
Pleasure ripped through her in unnatural waves — every nerve ending suddenly hyper-alive, raw sensitivity twisting into unbearable heat, the taboo wrongness of being eaten so patiently making her clit pulse harder even untouched, making her hole clench and gush in rhythmic little spasms.
Tears pricked her eyes again. Hips rolled upward — helpless, pleading. "Please... more..."
The words tumbled out before she could choke them back, cheeks flaming.
He groaned against her cunt — the low vibration rolling straight through her core like thunder. Then he gave her more — but still torturously slow.
Tongue circled her dripping entrance in endless, lazy loops — tracing the tight, spasming ring without ever pushing inside. He flicked just past the rim — shallow, teasing — then pulled back, letting her feel the ache of emptiness.
He sucked the lowest part of her folds into his mouth — plush, slippery skin dragged between his lips — teeth grazing so lightly she jolted, a high whimper bursting free.
Her walls fluttered desperately; thick ropes of fresh slick oozed out, coating his tongue, his chin. He lapped it up — slow, greedy swallows — before returning to those maddening circles, slower still, until her hole was clenching so hard it made wet little sucking noises around nothing.
She sobbed — soft, humiliated — fingers knotting in his hair, tugging weakly. "It’s too slow... I can’t... please..."
He lifted his head just enough to let her see his mouth — lips swollen, chin dripping with her cum. "You can, love." he growled. "And you’re so good so far."
Then he buried his face again. Tongue finally speared inside — shallow, cruelly restrained — curling in tiny, deliberate hooks against the front wall, stroking that swollen, spongy patch with the lightest possible pressure.
His nose brushed her clit on every forward tilt — accidental, maddening friction that sent lightning up her spine.
She cried out — sharp, broken — pleasure coiling so tight it hurt. He slid one finger in alongside his tongue — one finger, moving at glacial speed. Inch by torturous inch he pushed inside, twisting gently so she felt every ridge, every knuckle sliding past her spasming entrance.
Out — equally slow — letting her walls cling and flutter around the retreating digit. Then back in — curling harder now, stroking that sensitive ridge with feather-light precision, feeling it swell and pulse under his fingertip.
Her moans turned frantic — high, vulnerable, cracking into sobs. He withdrew his tongue, replaced it with a second finger — now scissoring them apart inside her, stretching the slick, clinging channel wide while his mouth returned to the outer lips, kissing and sucking in perfect, slow rhythm with the deep, lazy thrusts.
Fingers pumped — not fast, never fast — long, dragging strokes that twisted on every withdrawal, knuckles grazing the tight rim on every re-entry, making her hole flutter and gush. More slick poured out — thick, obscene — coating his palm, dripping down his wrist, pooling beneath her ass in a warm, sticky lake.
He shifted again. Mouth now directly over her clit. Hot, teasing breaths first — making the little pearl throb and jump. Then the flat of his tongue — pressing down hard, unmoving, just holding the pressure while his fingers curled deeper, stroking that swollen front wall in slow, relentless circles.
The coil inside her snapped — slow, devastating, deeper than before. Her whole body locked — thighs clamping around his head, back bowing into a violent arch, cunt clamping down on his fingers like a fist.
A long, raw, wailing "fuuuuck—!" tore from her throat — voice splintering as she came.
Her pussywalls spasmed violently — rhythmic, powerful contractions that milked his fingers, gushing fresh floods of slick that soaked his hand, his forearm, the sheets. Each pulse wrung another broken sob from her — hips jerking uncontrollably, clit throbbing against his unmoving tongue, entrance fluttering and squirting in helpless little spurts.
He kept going — fingers stroking through every contraction, tongue finally moving in soft, lapping circles to drag the orgasm out longer, milking tremor after tremor until her thighs fell open again, body collapsing into a trembling, sweat-slick, sobbing wreck.
Only then did he ease his fingers out — slow, deliberate — the wet schlick loud in the quiet room. He pressed one last open-mouthed kiss to her quivering, cum-slick mound — tasting the aftershocks still rippling through her.
He crawled up her body — heat rolling off him like a furnace. Kissed the tears from her cheeks, then claimed her mouth — deep, filthy, letting her taste the thick glaze of her own release coating his tongue and lips.
"Good girl," he rasped against her swollen mouth. "But we’re still nowhere near done."
She whimpered — voice wrecked, body limp and shaking — yet her poor, oversensitive cunt clenched again at his words, already leaking fresh need onto the ruined sheets.