ebookslot Chapter 608 - 607 - Caught Red-Handed?!
Chapter 608 - 607 - Caught Red-Handed?!
She was losing control.Her hands slipped from the tree. Her body fell — forward, onto the ground, the moss and leaves and dirt pressing against her bare tits, her face in the leaves. He went with her — his body covering hers, his cock never leaving her cunt.
He fucked her on the ground.
The prone position — his full weight on her back, his hips against her thick ass, his cock buried to the root. He ground against her, the slow, circular, deep motion of a man who was savoring the final stretch.
She was crying.
The tears fell on the leaves. The fear — someone would see, someone would hear, someone would walk to the edge of the camp and find a woman being fucked into the dirt — mixed with the pleasure and the pain and the devotion until she couldn’t tell them apart.
He pulled out of her cunt.
The juices — her cum, his pre-cum, the mixed, hot, slick evidence of everything — ran down her ass. The wet, warm trail of fluid coating her thick cheeks, running into her cleft, pooling against her anal.
He slammed into her ass.
PHACK!!
"AAAAA—!!"
Her body jolted.
The scream — uncontrolled, full-volume, tearing through her hands — ripped into the forest.
The sound carried.
Twenty meters away, a soldier looked up.
"What was that?" he said.
"Probably a bird," another said.
"A bird? That didn’t sound like a bird."
"Maybe a dying rabbit. Foxes get them."
The soldier frowned.
"Must have been constipated," he muttered.
He went back to his food.
Viktor fucked her ass.
PAH PAH PAAH!
"MMMMPH~!! Mmmph~!! Mmmmm~!!"
His hand on the back of her head, pressing her face into the leaves, muffling her screams. His other hand gripping her hip, pulling her back onto him, the thick, dense flesh of her ass rippling with each impact.
His tail found her pussy again.
The appendage slid between her thighs — still wet, still warm — and pushed into her cunt. The dual penetration resumed — cock in her ass, tail in her cunt, the vibration starting again.
"MMMM~!!!"
She was gone.
Her body — limp, broken, surrendered — lay on the forest floor while he used both holes. Her heavy tits pressed into the moss, her face in the leaves, her thick ass raised, her hands clawing the dirt.
He leaned forward.
His mouth found her tit — the stiff, dark nipple, the heavy, swollen flesh. He sucked, his teeth grazing, his tongue working, his lips pulling with the greedy, devoted, hungry suction of a man who was feeding.
He came.
The thick, hot, flooding release into her anal — the pulses pumping deep, the seed filling her, the warmth spreading through her bowels. His tail vibrated harder in her cunt, the resonance pushing her over the edge.
She came.
The silent, body-locking, breath-stopping orgasm of a woman who had been fucked past her capacity — her cunt clenching around his tail, her anal clenching around his cock, her whole body convulsing on the forest floor.
He held her.
Through the orgasm. Through the convulsions. Through the silent, open-mouthed, tear-streaked, leaf-covered, dirt-smeared, thoroughly destroyed aftermath.
He pulled out.
Both cock and tail withdrew.
She lay there.
On the ground. On the moss. On the leaves.
Her legs spread.
Her pussy and anal — both gaping, both leaking, both running with his seed. The thick, white fluid running from her cunt, from her ass, pooling on the leaves beneath her.
Her boobs were bare.
The brown dress pulled down, her heavy tits exposed to the forest air, the dark nipples stiff and raw and covered with teeth marks — the deep, purple, unmistakable impression of a man’s mouth on her flesh.
She twitched.
The violent, continuous, full-body twitching of a woman whose nervous system had been fried — her thick thighs shaking, her heavy tits trembling, her fingers curling and uncurling in the dirt.
Viktor stood.
He looked down at her.
At the ruin of her.
At the thick, leaking, twitching, destroyed body of a woman who had been fucked in a forest while a hundred men ate stew twenty meters away.
He ruffled his hair.
"Now that’s a delicious meal," he said.
He fixed his trousers.
He adjusted his armor.
He walked back toward the camp.
Behind him, on the forest floor, Dara twitched once more.
Her hand moved.
Slowly. Weakly. The trembling, post-orgasmic, barely-conscious motion of a woman whose body was trying to reassemble itself.
She reached for her dress.
Pulled it down.
Covered her leaking, ruined, thoroughly claimed body.
And lay there.
In the leaves.
In the dark.
With his seed running from both holes and his teeth marks on her tits and the distant sound of soldiers talking about constipated birds.
She smiled.
"Master," she whispered to the trees while So Victor standing as with his hand in pocket, he walked towards the forest.
Viktor looked down at his bowl.
The stew — thick, rich, genuinely well-made by Dara’s hands — sat in the wooden bowl, the steam rising in lazy spirals. But the surface was not clean. The surface was not the smooth, dark, glistening brown of a properly served meal.
There were stains.
Thin, translucent, whitish stains on the surface of the broth. The kind of stains that did not come from vegetables or meat or spice. The kind of stains that came from a woman’s cunt being fucked so hard that her squirt had arced through the air and landed in a bowl of stew twenty centimeters away.
His seed, too.
The thin, white, pearlescent threads of his cum — visible, undeniable, floating on the surface of the broth like the evidence at a crime scene.
He stared at it.
’Ah,’ he thought. ’I fucked her so hard her juices landed in the food.’
The realization was not surprising. He had pounded Dara against the tree with enough force to shake the branches, and the angle of her body — legs up, pussy pointed outward, the squirt launching in a high, arcing trajectory when she came — had been aimed, by pure geometric accident, directly at his dinner.
He could not eat it.
Not because the addition of female ejaculate and demon seed to beef stew was inherently unappetizing to a man who had done the things he had done. But because eating his own cum out of a bowl of stew in a military camp was a line even he was not prepared to cross in public.
A voice came.
From beside him.
Dara.
She had returned — walking slightly bow-legged, her brown dress pulled down, her hair disheveled, her lips swollen, her body carrying the particular, visible, thoroughly-fucked aura of a woman who had been pounded into the forest floor ten minutes ago. She looked at the bowl.
At the stains.
At the thin, white, floating evidence of what had happened.
Her face went red.
"My apologies," she said.
She bent — a bow, the formal, deep, waist-folding bow of a maid acknowledging a failure. Her heavy tits swung forward in the dress, the neckline gaping, the teeth marks on her upper chest visible.
"Forgive me, Master," she said. "Due to me, your food got spoiled. I will bring another one."
Viktor looked at her.
At the bow. At the marks. At the devoted, genuine, mortified apology of a woman who had just been fucked unconscious and had dragged herself back to camp to find that her squirt had ruined her master’s dinner.
"Ah, no," he said. "It’s fine."
The words were mild, dismissive, the response of a man who had bigger concerns than a ruined bowl of stew.
Then a voice came from a nearby tree.
"Yes, yes," it said. "It’s fine. He can just eat you."