Read Novel Full Chapter 963: Eros Cock and Cucking Elements (r-18)
Chapter 963: Eros Cock and Cucking Elements (r-18)
I kept the head right there—pressed blunt and unyielding against her entrance, letting her feel the first cruel promise of stretch before I gave her even a millimeter.
She was already shaking—thighs quivering violently, breath coming in shallow, panicked hitches that fogged the mirror inches from her face.
The reflection caught everything in merciless detail: mascara rivers streaking her flushed cheeks like black tears of surrender, the simple platinum wedding ring flashing every time her fingers flexed white-knuckled on the toilet tank, torn black silk hanging off her hips in pathetic ribbons like flags of defeat, her heavy tits still glistening with drying spit from her earlier throat-fucking, nipples dark red and swollen from my fingers.
I pushed in slow—punishingly slow—watching her pussy lips part and stretch white around the thick head, forced wider than her body had ever allowed before, outer folds blooming obscenely, inner lips clinging and pulling taut like they were being remade in real time.
Burning hit first—sharp, protesting heat that ripped a gasp from her throat: "Oh god—it’s too big—fuck—it hurts—" — her eyes rolled back, lids fluttering wildly.
Then the Taboo Aura ignited hard—sin resonance thrumming under her skin, faint golden glow tracing every erogenous zone (nipples, clit, inner thighs, lower belly), rewriting the searing stretch into liquid, molten pleasure that flooded her core.
Her inner walls fluttered helplessly—clenching like they wanted to push me out, then spasming to drag me deeper—a wet, reluctant suck as her pussy yielded another inch.
I didn’t stop.
Inch by thick, veined inch I sank deeper, her slick channel stretching with obscene, wet sounds—squelching resistance turning to greedy suction—until my hips slammed flush against her ass, balls pressed tight to her swollen clit, every last centimeter buried.
Her whole body locked rigid for one frozen heartbeat—spine bowing, tits swinging forward heavily—then convulsed in a violent full-body shudder: thighs quaking so hard her planted foot slipped an inch on the slick marble, back arching deeper, a hot gush of fresh slick spilling out around my shaft and running in shiny rivers down both our legs, pooling between us in little wet pats.
I used Size Control without conscious thought—thickening just that extra fraction, angle shifting microscopically so the fat ridge dragged perfectly over her front wall, kissing the exact spot no cock had ever reached.
She realized it in the mirror—eyes widening in shocked betrayal, mouth falling open on a broken "How—how is it hitting—fuck—how do you know—"
—her own body betraying her, pussy rippling in helpless waves around the impossible fit.
I hooked one arm under the crook of her elbow, folding her leg high and tight against her chest—opening her wider, deeper angle that let me grind straight against her cervix with every forward roll.
Her other foot stayed planted on the cold floor, toes curling hard against the marble for balance; the raised leg dangled helplessly, thigh muscles jumping.
My free hand—same arm still pinning her leg up—immediately dropped between her trembling thighs.
Thumb found her clit—swollen, peeking, throbbing visibly—and started slow, mean circles while I kept her folded open like a book. Multitasking ownership: leg held high, clit tortured, cock buried to the hilt.
The rhythm began deliberate.
Slow, grinding circles first—hips rolling deep, stirring inside her so she felt every vein, every ridge dragging along her stretched, fluttering walls. Her pussy gripped me like a second mouth—lips puffy and white-ringed around my base, inner muscles rippling in frantic, helpless waves.
I sped up suddenly—hard slam—pulling almost all the way out then driving back in with a wet smack that echoed off the tiles.
Skin slapped skin.
Her tits bounced heavily with every impact—soft weight jiggling, nipples rock-hard and dark.
My other hand mauled them without mercy—squeezing the full undersides, tugging peaks, light slaps that sent them bouncing harder while she whimpered
"My husband—oh fuck—he’s right outside—talking, laughing—" even as her hips rolled back greedily to meet each thrust.
Footsteps passed in the hallway—muffled laughter, a woman’s voice calling a name, the door handle rattling once before moving on. She bit down hard on her own forearm to muffle a moan—teeth leaving white crescents—the unlocked risk making her clench tighter.
Every time shame flashed ("this is wrong"), the Taboo Aura flared brighter—golden glow pulsing on her clit, nipples, inner thighs—and her pussy spasmed harder, stretch turning impossibly better, wetter.
Obscene squelches filled the stall: dripping, sloppy, her slick stringing from my balls to the floor in long silver threads every time I pulled back.
Sweat ran in rivulets down her spine, pooling in the dimples above her ass; spit from earlier still glistened on her bouncing tits, mixing with fresh beads rolling between them.
I alternated mercilessly—slow grinds letting me thumb her clit in tight, relentless circles, pinching the swollen nub lightly so she sobbed; then sudden brutal thrusts that knocked the breath from her lungs and curled her toes harder against the marble.
Three times I dragged her right to the edge: body locking rigid, moans fracturing into desperate, hiccuping sobs, pussy fluttering so violently it almost milked me dry, clit throbbing visibly under my thumb.
She felt the denial—frustration crashing through the pleasure—and gasped "I never cum thisfast—fuck—why can’t I—why can’t I finish—" voice cracking raw with need.
"You didn’t before," I murmured low against her ear, chuckle vibrating through her sweat-slick back. "You do now."
The fourth edge hit like a freight train. Her pussy spasmed wildly—walls rippling in frantic, milking waves, trying to drag me deeper, clit pulsing so hard it jumped against my thumb.
I whispered filthy against her neck: "He’s probably still out there—sipping champagne, shaking hands—while I’m balls-deep in his wife, stretching her married cunt open, owning every inch he never touched."
She whimpered—half protest, half plea— "Don’t stop—ruin me—please—let me—"
I slammed in one final brutal thrust—deep enough to kiss her cervix—pinched her clit hard between thumb and finger, rolling it roughly while my other hand squeezed her tit so tight the flesh spilled between my fingers.
She shattered toward the brink—back bowing violently, thighs shaking so hard her planted leg buckled, fresh flood of slick pouring out around my cock in hot pulses, tits heaving wildly, ring flashing in frantic rhythm as her hand flew to brace the wall again.
Then I stopped.
Completely still—buried to the hilt, thumb frozen on her pulsing, denied clit, cock throbbing inside her fluttering, desperate pussy.
She shook. Whimpered brokenly. Begged.
Body trembling uncontrollably—pussy clenching in frantic, empty spasms around me, eyes locked on our reflection: torn dress in rags, mascara-streaked face, married ring glinting, my thick cock disappearing into her stretched, dripping, owned cunt.
And she broke.
"Please—" voice raw, trembling, barely human. "Let me cum—fuck—I need it—I can’t—please—"
I smiled against her shoulder blade, teeth grazing skin.
Not yet.
Her body kept shaking—clenching, dripping, begging—while I held her right on the razor’s edge.