Chapter 448 - 447 - Lira’s Face Creampie
PAH! PAH! PAH!
"YES~! MASTER~!! MORE~!! HARDER~!! AAANGHH~!!!"
Rihana’s breasts moved like they had their own gravity.
Each brutal thrust sent them swinging upward — full, heavy, obscenely pendulous — before gravity caught them and dropped them back to slap against her own chest with a wet, meaty impact that left them bouncing in long, hypnotic arcs that didn’t fully settle before the next thrust sent them back up.
Up. Down. Slap. Swing. Up.
The motion was relentless and rhythmic and completely, stupidly mesmerizing.
PAH! PAH!
"HNGH~!! OUNGHH~!! F-FILL ME~!!!"
Viktor held both her thick thighs — fingers digging into the soft, generous flesh, pulling them apart and back, opening her completely, her cunt stretched tight and flushed dark around his shaft, the wet ring of her pussy lips dragging along the length of him every time he pulled back and then swallowing him again on the drive forward.
The bulge of his cock was visible in her lower belly.
A distinct, obscene rise under the skin with every deepest thrust — there and then gone and then there again — like something knocking from inside trying to get out.
Rihana’s eyes had been somewhere other than her face for the past three minutes.
Viktor looked up.
He looked at them.
Both of them — Gwen and Lira, pressed against the hut wall with their hands at their chests and their thighs locked together and their eyes doing the involuntary thing where they couldn’t look away from the swinging of Rihana’s breasts no matter how many times they tried.
He watched them watch the swing.
Watched his cock get harder from watching them watch.
He smiled.
"Pull her nipples."
Silence.
Not quiet — the wet slap of his hips against Rihana’s thighs was still happening, the muffled impact of her breasts was still happening, Rihana’s broken moaning was absolutely still happening.
But from Gwen and Lira: silence.
"’What?’" — both of them, same word, same pitch, same expression of women who heard correctly and are hoping they didn’t.
"Come on." He slammed forward once, hard — Rihana’s body slid two full inches across the mat, her breasts swinging up and forward with the momentum, nipples catching the firelight as they peaked dark and swollen and ’there.’
"’Do it now.’"
PAH!
"IT HURTS~!! IT HURTS~!! AAAHH~!!!"
Rihana’s breasts had gone red. Not just flushed — genuinely, visibly reddened from the impact, from the swinging, from thirty minutes of being groped and bitten and dragged across stone. The nipples were puffy and dark and leaking thin beads of milk at the tips, and her whole chest quivered with every breath, every thrust, every sob.
Gwen moved first.
Not because she wanted to. Because her body had been soaking in the purple air for an hour and her hands had already started moving before her brain had fully formed a position on the matter.
Her fingers found Rihana’s left nipple.
Lira reached the right.
Both women, kneeling beside the bred woman’s heaving body, holding the dark, milk-beaded peaks between their fingers with the careful, overwhelmed expressions of people handling something they don’t have context for.
Rihana’s moan changed pitch.
They pulled.
Not hard. Not deliberately. Just the gentle, experimental draw of inexperienced hands — but ’gentle’ wasn’t available to Rihana’s nipples in their current state. The stretch hit nerve endings that had been wrecked and rebuilt twice in one night, and her back arched completely off the mat.
"HIIEEEKKK~!!!"
Gwen released instantly. Recoiled.
Lira dropped half a second later, hands yanking back.
Both of them pressing against each other, faces red, hands held in front of them like the nipples had burned them.
"We’re not doing this." Gwen’s voice was shaking. "This is wrong, this is — we’re ’not—’"
"It’s wrong," Lira confirmed, with considerably less volume than intended.
Viktor pulled out of Rihana.
The withdrawal drew a long, wet, completely obscene sound and a broken cry from the thick woman — "’NOOO~!! DON’T—’" — and then his hands moved.
Both of them. Reaching out sideways, one to each woman.
He grabbed them.
Not by the wrist. Not carefully. He grabbed — fistfuls of fabric and arm and pulled — and both Gwen and Lira collided with him simultaneously, their bodies slamming into his chest and sides, his hands immediately dropping to their asses and gripping with the proprietary thoroughness of a man who has decided the inventory belongs to him.
Gwen made a sound she immediately tried to retract.
Lira’s mouth opened and nothing came out.
His palms kneaded both their asses through their clothes — fingers digging into the shape of them, learning the curve, squeezing hard enough to separate the cheeks through the fabric — and he looked down at both their upturned, furious, ’compromised’ faces with the expression of a man who is making a point by existing at this proximity.
Then he turned.
One hand releasing Lira’s ass. Grabbing her hair instead.
She barely had time to register the grip before he directed her down — not rough, not gentle, simply ’guided’ — her face dropping toward the level of his cock, positioned with the precision of someone who has a destination in mind.
He pulled back.
His cock — thick, dark-flushed, still glistening with Rihana — twitched once, and then his hips drove forward.
The first rope caught Lira across the nose.
The second hit her open mouth — already open because she’d been mid-protest — thick, hot, landing directly on her tongue.
The third, fourth, fifth pulsed in succession, and he ’pushed forward’, the cockhead pressing past her teeth, the fat, crimson head forcing her lips wide as he pumped directly into her mouth.
Lira’s teeth closed.
Not a bite — more a ’clench’, the involuntary muscle response of a jaw that had just been invaded — and the pressure of her teeth around the cockhead tightened and he made a sound low in his chest that was not pain.
Was very much not pain.
The tightness of it — the involuntary grip of her teeth against the sensitive ridge of the head — sent a pulse of feedback up his spine that his body catalogued as ’excellent’ and his hips responded to by pushing slightly deeper.
Lira’s palm slammed flat against his abs.
Her hand said: ’stop.’
Her throat had stopped making sound and her eyes were very wide and she was sucking in air through her nose while his cock sat in the front of her mouth and his seed was on her upper lip and she was absolutely, completely, ’undeniably’ doing this.
Her hand on his stomach pushed.
He let her push.
He pulled back, the cockhead dragging free of her teeth with a soft, obscene sound, a thread of his seed connecting her lip to the tip for half a second before it broke.
Lira sat back on her heels with the expression of someone who has just experienced something they were not catalogued for.
Viktor turned.
His eyes found Gwen.
He kissed her.
Mouth on mouth — both hands now, one cupping the back of her head, one at her jaw — and the kiss was the kind that didn’t ask. His tongue found hers immediately, warm and tasting of salt and something darker, and Gwen made a sound against his mouth that she was going to be categorizing for weeks.
She kissed back.
She was doing it ’now’, her hands coming up to his chest and not pushing, her mouth moving against his with the genuine, inexperienced urgency of a woman who has never been kissed like this and is learning what kissing is supposed to feel like in real time.
"Just like that," he murmured against her lips, not breaking contact. A breath. "I’m going to eat all of you up."
She heard his voice and felt it more than processed it, a vibration in her chest — and then his hand was moving her, guiding her down, and she looked—
Down.
At Lira.
Who was kneeling there with his seed drying on her face, his cock ’two inches inside her mouth’, her eyes wide and streaming with something between anger and surrender — and Viktor’s hand in her hair was pushing slow and steady and Lira’s throat was working and her hands were on his thighs and she was ’taking it.’
"’Wait—’" Gwen started.
He kissed her again, muffling the word, and she tasted it dissolve against his mouth.
’"Don’t hurt her,"’ she tried to say, inside the kiss. It came out as "’Mmph—hn—’"
He moved.
Fast. The hand released Lira’s hair.
Lira sat back, his cock withdrawing from her mouth with a strand of saliva still connecting her lips to the tip, her eyes blinking rapidly, chest heaving.
His hands found Gwen.
"Kyaaaangh~!!?!!!"