Read Novel Full Chapter 374: Olivia & Nancy
Chapter 374: Olivia & Nancy
Anya reached for a thick stack of sterile tissues from the side table, her movements deliberate, almost reverent. She knelt again between Nathalie’s widely spread thighs, the recliner creaking under the shift of weight.
The first tissue met the slick mess of Nathalie’s gaping asshole—still pulsing open and closed like a hungry mouth, thick white globs of my cum clinging to the swollen pink rim in sticky webs.
Anya pressed firmly, dragging the tissue in slow, circling strokes that made Nathalie’s hips jerk and her breath hitch into sharp, needy gasps.
"Hold still, Mrs. Dexter," Anya murmured, voice low and thick, "I need to clean every trace... though it seems there’s no end to what he pumped into you." She folded the soiled tissue over, revealing how it was already soaked through, translucent with creamy seed, then pressed a fresh one directly against the open hole.
She pushed gently inward—just enough to wick out more of the overflowing load—drawing out a long, broken whimper from Nathalie as another heavy spurt bubbled free and soaked the paper instantly.
Anya moved lower next, parting the puffy, glistening lips of Nathalie’s cunt with two fingers. The tissues glided over her engorged clit—making it twitch violently—then down through the drenched folds, collecting the slick mix of her arousal and residual cum that had dripped from her ass.
Each wipe was slow, teasing, almost stroking; Nathalie’s thighs trembled, toes curling inside the red Louboutins, her back arching off the recliner as fresh wetness welled up to replace what Anya removed.
"Such a filthy, dripping mess," Anya whispered, half lecture, half worship. "Your holes are still begging for more, even after all that."
Nancy took a deep breath, looking at me and said, " Mr. Dexter, why don’t you remove your pants... so that we can proceed."
Olivia moved before I could even finish processing Nancy’s words. She dropped gracefully to her knees right in front of me—scrub pants stretching tight over her round ass as she settled, knees spreading slightly on the cold office floor for balance. Her face was level with my crotch now, cheeks flushed, pupils blown so wide the blue of her irises was just a thin ring around black hunger.
"Allow me, Mr. Dexter," she murmured, voice low and syrup-thick. "You seem... a little shaky. Let’s get these off properly."
Her hands—warm, surprisingly steady—reached for the waistband of my already half-lowered pants. She hooked her fingers under the fabric and tugged downward in one smooth, deliberate pull.
The pants slid over my hips easily, pooling at my ankles. But she didn’t stop there. Her fingertips grazed the elastic of my underwear next—black boxer-briefs stretched obscenely tight by the thick, straining length trapped inside.
She looked up at me through her lashes, lips parted, breath coming in shallow pants that ghosted hot over the front of the cotton. "Deep breath," she whispered, almost teasing. Then she yanked the waistband down hard.
The underwear caught for half a second on the swollen head of my cock—then snapped free.
My cock sprang upward with violent force—thick, veined, rock-hard, slick with a glistening coat of pre-cum from tip to base. The sudden release sent it whipping forward in a heavy arc.
SMACK!
The loud, wet slap echoed through the locked office like a hand across bare skin.
The underside of my throbbing cock collided flush with Olivia’s cheek—hot, heavy meat smacking against soft flesh with enough force to make her head jerk slightly to the side.
A fat rope of pre-cum splattered across her cheekbone, streaking toward her ear in a shiny trail. The impact left a perfect, momentary imprint of my cock on her flushed skin—reddening instantly where the ridge of the head had struck. She gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound that was half shock, half moan.
The cock rebounded upward, bobbing wildly, then slapped down again—lighter this time—dragging the slick underside across her parted lips before settling, pointing straight at her face like an accusation.
A thick bead of pre-cum hung from the slit, trembling, then fell in a slow, viscous drop onto her lower lip. She didn’t flinch. Instead, her tongue darted out—quick, kittenish—swiping the drop away and tasting it with a soft, hungry hum.
"Fuck..." she breathed, eyes locked on the pulsing length inches from her nose. "So heavy... so fucking thick. Look how it’s twitching just from hitting me."
Nancy let out a choked whimper from beside us, one hand pressed hard between her own thighs. "Did you hear that slap?" she whispered. "God, it sounded like he just face-fucked her without even trying."
Behind us, Nathalie’s broken sob cut through the air. "Olivia... you slut... don’t... don’t taste him... that’s mine... my husband’s cock... my cum still leaking out of my wrecked asshole and you’re licking pre-cum off your face like a bitch in heat..."
Anya stayed kneeling at the recliner, fresh tissues forgotten in her hand, staring transfixed as Olivia slowly rose to her feet—cheek still glistening with my pre-cum smear, lips shiny from that quick swipe of her tongue.
Olivia stepped even closer, her scrub top brushing my bare chest. One hand wrapped loosely around the base of my cock—fingers barely meeting around the girth—and gave one slow, possessive pump.
"There," she purred, voice wrecked. "All free now. Look how angry the head is... purple and dripping. Ready to split that doll wide open... or maybe something warmer, if the doctor allows it."
My cock jumped hard in her grip, another thick string of pre-cum oozing out and dripping onto her knuckles. She didn’t wipe it away. She just smiled—slow, filthy—and guided the slick head toward the doll’s waiting, parted silicone cunt.
The room was electric—wet sounds from Nathalie’s still-leaking holes, heavy breathing from every woman, the obscene drip-drip of my arousal hitting the floor, and the memory of that loud, dirty SMACKstill ringing in everyone’s ears.
Olivia rose slowly from her knees, her scrub pants whispering against the floor as she straightened.
A faint tremor ran through her fingers as she kept her loose grip on the base of my cock—professional poise warring with the way her thumb unconsciously stroked the underside once, collecting more pre-cum on the pad before she forced her hand still.