Chapter 372 - Soothe the Little Hole More
He looked at the screen.
The woman on it was — he swallowed — the woman on it was crying. Real tears, actual tears, running sideways across her face, and her mouth was making shapes around whatever was stuffed in it, and the shapes looked like words, and the words looked like—
He leaned forward.
He told himself he was checking the resolution.
The words her mouth was making looked like please don’t watch.
Something in his chest shifted.
Not recognition. He filed it before it could become recognition.
"Shit," he said again, to the screen, to the woman’s blurred, tear-tracked face, to the heavy, swinging weight of her breasts as the man above her drove forward. "She’s too hot."
His second orgasm hit.
He gasped.
The seed fell from his cock straight down, hitting the hardwood floor in a series of small, warm drops, and he sat there with his head tipped back and his hand still around himself and his earphones still in, and he thought:
’I need to throw this laptop away.’
Upstairs:
Raven thrust once more.
Deep, slow, the unhurried roll of a man who has been doing this for a while and is arriving at the end of this particular round.
He reached down.
Both hands found Jennifer’s face — not her throat, not her hair, her face, palms against her jaw, thumbs below her cheekbones — and he held it the way you hold something that matters, tilting it up, tilting it toward him.
He pulled the panty from her mouth.
Her first real breath came out as a sob.
"Congratulations," he said.
She blinked at him through the tears.
"Your son just came." His mouth curved. "Twice."
"Stop—" Her voice was wrecked. "Don’t say that. Don’t—"
He kissed her.
Not to silence her — or not only to silence her. The kind of kiss that uses both hands still holding the face, that doesn’t rush, that arrives and stays and makes itself comfortable.
She kissed him back.
She did not decide to kiss him back. Her mouth had been trained today into a kind of fluency she didn’t have vocabulary for, and it responded to his mouth with the same honest, involuntary obedience her pussy had been producing for hours.
Her tongue came out.
He filled her with his last load in the same moment — the warm, pulsing flood of it, his hips making three short, grinding pushes to seat it properly — and she felt it arrive in the deep place he had been visiting all day and she made a sound into his mouth that was not any word she had ever used before.
He pulled back.
Looked at her face.
"Yeah," she said. Barely sound. The voice of a woman who has been emptied of everything she’d been carrying and hasn’t found what replaces it yet. "I don’t know."
He kept moving.
Slow. Grinding. The aftershocks of his own release working through him in long, lazy pulses, his cock still hard, still seated, still at home inside her body the way it had been making itself at home all day.
Her pussy gushed around him.
More of it than she had thought she had left. Her body producing evidence of its own state with the same frank, documented precision it had been producing it all day.
She looked at the ceiling.
She thought about the mirror.
She thought about her son sitting at his desk with his earphones in and his hand moving and his face tipped back.
"Someone," she said, to the ceiling, to nobody, to the version of herself that had been reading dough temperature at 5 AM and considering whether to call Gareth about the symptoms, "please."
He rolled his hips.
Her eyes went sideways.
"Stop this," she said.
Her pussy said something else entirely.
"Before I lose—" Her voice broke. "Before I lose my—"
He didn’t wait for her to finish. With a deliberate, predatory shift, he withdrew his cock, the slick, translucent trail of his seed dragging wetly against her inner labia as he pulled back just enough to clear her entrance. Jennifer’s hips arched instinctively, a pathetic, desperate pursuit of the friction he had just revoked, her inner walls pulsing in empty, air-filled contractions.
He didn’t give her a second of relief. As he slammed his cock out, he caught the curve of her hips, pinning her frame down with a heavy, bruising palm against her lower back. His cock, thick and rigid, was still slick with the slurry of her anal juices and the remnants of her vaginal nectar. He didn’t aim for the familiar path. Instead, he hammered his hips downward, aiming directly for the twitching, dark-rimmed rosette of her virgin anal opening.
The impact was absolute.
"ANNGHH—THAT IS WRONG HOLE~~KYAANGHH!?!!"
The shriek tore from her throat, a jagged, high-pitched sound of pure, unadulterated violation. Her eyes bulged, the whites flashing as her entire body locked in a rigid bow. It wasn’t just penetration; it was a structural invasion. She could feel the bulbous head of his cock brute-forcing its way past the tight, defiant sphincter, the skin around it white-knuckling from the stretch. Her heavy, pendulous breasts slapped against her chest with every frantic shudder, her nipples engorged and darkening as the sheer, overwhelming fullness tore through her nervous system. She was a thick, soft woman, but in that moment, she felt hollowed out, her insides feeling as though they were being forcibly rearranged by his relentless, cucumber-thick shaft.
"MNNGH—H-HAAHH—ST-STOP IT—!!"
She scrambled against the mattress, her fingers clawing at the sheets behind her back, but the sensation of being stretched to her absolute limit held her captive. He ignored the frantic, strangled plea, his face a mask of cold satisfaction as he shoved the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The wet, smacking sound of his cock invading her bowel filled the small, suffocating space of the room, rhythmic and filthy, accompanied by the sight of her own anus gaping, strained and flushed, around his thick base.
"Urgh... fuck..." he hissed, his voice dropping into a low, jagged rasp against her ear.
"It’s tighter than a virgin’s..."
He didn’t pull back.
He stayed buried, the heat of her insides radiating against his skin, and began to twist, a slow, rotating grind that forced her to feel every ridge and vein of his cock against her sensitive, unaccustomed walls.
Jennifer’s head fell back, her mouth hanging open in a silent, jagged O of agony and encroaching pleasure, her body betraying her by instinctively clenching around him, the rhythmic spasms of her anal walls trying to pull him even deeper inside.
"Sob... Hicc... Unghh~~ Ahnnn~~ It-It hurts...!?" She was weeping—real, hot tears that tracked through the sweat on her face—while her body, completely detached from her will, humped back against his rhythm, begging for more of the very thing that was shattering her composure.
But he simply smirked, feeling how tight this hole actually was, feeling his cock getting sucked in as he felt her warmth and soft body slowly retreating while looking into her teary eyes as she cried, noticing how beautiful she looked while crying and begging.
He simply leaned near her lips, biting her lower lip, making her whimper as he said, "Let me soothe this pain by stretching this little hole more... Jennifer."