Read Novel Full Chapter 935: Pussy Like Aged Wine (r-18)
Chapter 935: Pussy Like Aged Wine (r-18)
I didn’t give her time to breathe.
My fingers hooked viciously into the last pathetic scraps of black lace still clinging to her — those soaked panties now utterly transparent, heavy and darkened with her thick cream, the sodden fabric molded so obscenely to her swollen pussy lips that every plump curve and puffy seam was carved in wet relief.
I ripped it, the fabric giving away at my strength despite how firm it looked.
The lace gave a filthy, saturated rrrrrip — wetter than tearing cloth should ever sound, like shredding drenched silk soaked in honey and sin.
The crotch clung stubbornly for one lewd heartbeat to her dripping folds, strings of glossy arousal stretching and snapping before it tore free. Thin red welts instantly striped her hipbones where the elastic had bitten deep.
I threw it away, it was useless now, the shredded panties hit the marble with a heavy, sodden plap, landing in a dark puddle of their own making.
Patt lay completely exposed now — trembling, marked, skin flushed from throat to thighs in a violent blush. Dark-purple hickeys bloomed like bruises across her throat, breasts, and inner thighs. Red handprints glowed hot on her perky, round ass — deeper crimson fingerprints still visible in the centers where he’d gripped hardest.
Her medium tits heaved in frantic gasps, nipples dark, puffy, abused — swollen from earlier slaps, sucks, and cruel pinches.
And between her widely spread thighs...
Her pussy.
At first glance the outer lips looked sealed tight — plump, flushed a deep rose, pressed together in a glossy, pouting seam.
But the betrayal was immediate: a slow, relentless trickle of thick, pearlescent cream leaked from the hidden slit, gathering at the lowest point before sliding in shiny, sluggish rivulets over her perineum and dripping onto the marble in soft, rhythmic plinks... plinks... plinks.
A neat, dark triangle of trimmed pubic hair framed her mound — soft, deliberately groomed, drawing the eye straight to the glistening, leaking seam it failed to conceal.
The lips themselves were obscenely swollen, almost angry, the inner folds barely peeking in a thin, wet crimson line at the very center. Her clit — engorged to dark cherry size — throbbed visibly beneath its hood, pulsing shamelessly with every hammering heartbeat, untouched and desperate.
It looked so perfectly filthy, so untouched yet so obviously ruined by need, that my throat closed. I gulped — hard — the wet, audible swallow echoing in the quiet suite like a confession.
Patt caught it.
Her eyes flared wide, then fluttered half-shut in pure, depraved triumph. {He’s staring at my pussy like he’s dying of thirst... while his little girl sleeps ten feet away... fuck, that makes me leak even more...}
She rolled her hips upward — small, greedy, offering herself higher. The sealed seam parted for one obscene instant — flashing hot, glistening pink — before closing again. Fresh cream welled up instantly and dripped faster, the shiny string stretching longer toward her asshole.
I didn’t speak... at first.
Hands slid under her thighs. Fingers hooked behind her knees. I lifted — hoisting her ass completely off the counter until only her shoulders and upper back braced against cold marble.
Her legs draped bonelessly over my forearms; her dripping cunt hovered inches from my face, the leaking slit now fully presented, the slow silver thread of slick stretching downward in a glistening, obscene arc.
I dropped my head and sealed my mouth over the lower curve of her right ass cheek — hot, possessive, lips sucking hard enough to bruise. The skin tasted salty with sweat and the faint sweet-tang of her earlier cream that had run down.
A fresh dark hickey bloomed instantly against the scarlet background.
She shuddered so violently her thighs jumped against my arms.
SLAP.
My palm cracked down on the left cheek — wet, vicious, making the firm globe ripple and bounce. She moaned brokenly, hips bucking, ass pushing back toward the sting like a slut begging for more.
I kissed the burning spot immediately — slow, torturous — lips brushing feather-light over scalding skin, then pressing harder, tongue dragging flat to taste salt and heat before sucking deep, pulling tender flesh into my mouth until another purple bruise formed dangerously close to her leaking entrance. She could feel my hot exhales ghosting directly over her fluttering hole with every breath.
Then I descended.
Kisses along the crease where thigh met groin — first right, then left — agonizingly slow. Lips dragged up plush inner flesh, tongue tracing every salty-sweet trail her arousal had left earlier.
Each open-mouthed kiss lingered — sealing, sucking gently, then harder — leaving pink marks that darkened to purple.
The skin quivered, velvet-hot, trembling violently under my tongue. I could taste her faint musk mixed with the heady sweetness of her slick; every inch higher made her thigh muscles jump and flex against my cheek.
Patt was shaking apart — thighs quivering uncontrollably against my face, hips lifting higher, chasing my mouth. Her fingers knotted in my hair, yanking desperately, grinding my face deeper into the plush, fever-hot trap of her thighs while broken sobs tore from her throat.
"Please... please kiss my pussy... it’s aching... it’s leaking for you... please..."
I pulled back just enough — lips hovering so close her swollen lips could feel the shape of every word against them.
"Shhh," I murmured, voice low and rough, vibrating straight into her clit. "Look at this greedy old cunt... dripping like a faucet. You’ve been starving it for years, haven’t you? Keeping it locked up tight for men who don’t even know how to touch it anymore. Patt, you’re one hell of a lucky woman you found me."
She whimpered, hips jerking.
I blew a slow, deliberate stream of hot breath directly over her throbbing clit — watched it jump and pulse harder.
"And now here you are... spread wide on my counter... begging me to eat you like the neglected slut you really are. Pathetic. Beautiful. But... Mine."
Another soft puff of air. Her entrance fluttered open, pushing out a fresh thick bead of cream that stretched toward my lips before breaking and falling.
"You want my mouth on this ripe, aching pussy so bad you’re crying for it... but I decide when it gets fed. Not you. Not that pretty little clit that’s been throbbing alone in the dark for a decade. Me."
Her sob cracked. Eros... please..."
I dragged the flat of my tongue — once — feather-light — along the very outer edge of her swollen lip, never touching the seam. She screamed softly, thighs clamping.
"I told you, I will make you bed, Patt. NOW. Beg nicer," I growled against her flesh, letting every syllable buzz through her. "Tell me how long it’s been since anyone tasted this cunt properly. Tell me you’ll keep quiet while I ruin it... so my little girl doesn’t wake up to the sound of you getting claimed by a man half her age."
She was shaking so hard now the counter vibrated.
"Years... years... no one’s... please Eros I’ll be quiet I swear I’ll be so quiet just—please—eat my pussy—own it—please—"
I kept the torture going — devouring every millimeter of those thick inner thighs, circling closer, hotter breath washing over her swollen lips with every exhale.
Her pussy clenched visibly in the open air — entrance fluttering open and closed in frantic spasms, pushing out thick beads of cream that gathered, stretched, dripped onto my chin, then fell to the marble in wet plops.
When her pleas turned to shattered whimpers, I finally claimed her.
One long, greedy gulp — mouth opening wide — and I sealed my lips over her entire dripping pussy in one possessive motion.
The first taste hit like a drug: her aged, long-starved cunt flooded my tongue with a deeper, richer musk than any younger woman could give — heavy, animal, almost fermented-sweet from years of denied orgasms, thick cream carrying notes of ripe peach gone slightly overripe, salty iron undertones, and that unmistakable mature-woman tang that coats the back of the throat and lingers.
The texture was obscene: outer lips plush and pillowy-soft from age and neglect, yet swollen rigid with fresh need; inner folds silkier, looser, more velvety-rippled than a tight young slit, greedy walls immediately clutching and sucking at my invading tongue like they’d been waiting decades to be filled again.
Her slick felt thicker, almost syrupy, coating my mouth in slow, heavy waves instead of thin spurts.
I sucked.
Hard.
Her scream ripped through the suite — raw, animal, broken — "AHHHH—EROS—FUCK—!"