Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 998: Vanessa’s Heaven (r-18)

Her whole frame rocketed up from the bed.

"OH FUCK—" she cried out as her fingers crashed into my hair. Gripped. Pulled hard.

Her legs squeezed tight around my ears before flopping wide open once more, since the bliss surged too intensely, too fiercely, leaving her unsure if she should smother me or part even further to let me destroy her completely.

I skipped any teasing. Not this time. Not for someone who'd never experienced a tongue this skilled between her thighs throughout all her forty-plus years.

I locked my mouth over her clit—swollen, throbbing, beating like an extra pulse—and drew it in. Soft pull initially, then stronger, sucking the tender bud further into the warm cavern of my mouth.

My tongue circled it with tight, languid loops as the suction rushed blood there, causing it to bulge even more against my tongue. Her pelvis jerked—fierce, savage—and she let loose a cry. No coherent words. Merely a shattered, primal noise of utter astonishment.

"Oh my God—Peter—what—how—"

I assaulted her clit without mercy now—rapid tiny strokes across the bottom, then wide, sweeping drags over every bit, returning to precise, quivering taps directly on the peak.

My palms seized her thighs, thumbs pressing into the tenderest inner skin, forcing her broader, holding her exposed and vulnerable as her hips ground against my face in wild, frantic swirls—the motions of one never shown how to pursue this, just how to endure its absence.

Then I slid downward.

Tongue stiff, I plunged right into her opening—scorching, smooth, incredibly snug after years of neglect.

Her inner walls gripped immediately, twitching in wild contractions around the invader, attempting to draw me further in.

I fucked her using my tongue—thrusting back and forth with slick, lewd motions, bending the tip up to scrape that textured front wall on each drive. Her juices surged anew, drenching my chin, trickling down my throat, gathering beneath her rear.

"Don’t stop—please—fuck—don’t you dare stop—"

I had no intention to.

Not with those ruined, choking sobs escaping her. Not when her fingers knotted so fiercely in my hair it stung. Not as her thighs quivered so powerfully the bed shook.

I triggered Touch via my hands—gliding both palms upward along her form while my tongue continued plunging deep into her pussy.

Fingers spread over her ribs, then cradled those full, pendulous breasts once more, thumbs and fingers nipping her long, dark nipples

Her spine bowed from the sheets as if struck by lightning.

"PETER—"

Her core muscles convulsed madly—squeezing, loosening, squeezing anew—like her pussy aimed to wring climax from my tongue alone.

I shifted one hand down.

Thumb located her clit—puffed, slick, pulsing—and circled it swiftly, firmly while my tongue persisted in stabbing deep, opening her up, expanding her, stuffing her with soaked, nasty tempo.

The other palm remained on her breast, twirling that fat nipple, pulling it softly, allowing the boosted nerves to convert every tweak into a throb at her center.

Her abdomen tightened in pulsing waves. Legs quaked without control. Hips mashed into my face with no elegance—just raw, beastly craving.

"I’m—something’s—I think I’m gonna—fuck—I’m coming—"

Her entire form froze. Every sinew locked simultaneously—legs viseing my skull, belly hollowing, spine arching so severely only shoulders and heels met the mattress. Lips parted in wordless shriek.

Then the noise burst out—a harsh, piercing, fractured howl bouncing off the walls.

She came explosively on my tongue.

Her pussy convulsed with profound, forceful squeezes—walls vise-gripping my probing tongue like a hand, striving to hold it captive. Her clit pounded under my thumb. New floods of slick poured in heated, pulsing spurts—smearing my chin, my face, streaming in heavy trails down her cleft to the bedding.

Her legs shuddered violently, battering my ears. Fingers loosened in my hair. Toes clenched rigidly.

I kept going.

I drove her through it—gentler pace now, tongue still gliding in and out those throbbing walls, thumb still tracing her twitching clit with barely-there strokes, prolonging each tremor.

Every tender push elicited another whine, another pelvis twitch, another quiver from her devastated pussy.

Once the fiercest shakes subsided—once her body slackened into limp jelly and her breaths became hoarse sobs—I delivered a final soft lap from entrance to clit, gathering the remnants of her peak.

She jerked—too sensitive, engorged, raw—but stayed put.

I raised my face.

She gazed at the ceiling past tears. Chin gleaming with her essence. Eyes dazed, shattered, blissfully ruined. The expression of someone whose core had just been utterly transformed.

"Nobody..." she murmured, voice hoarse. "Nobody’s ever... done that. Not... Ahhhh~"

I crawled along her body. Positioned next to her. Drew her against my torso. She pressed her face to me and wept—soft, constant, purifying tears pent up far beyond two years.

I embraced her. Stroked her back. Allowed her to tremble.

After a lengthy pause, she drew away, dabbed her eyes, let out a damp chuckle.

"I came so hard I cried. That’s mortifying."

"You had cartoon-cat panties. That’s mortifying."

She swatted my chest—feebly, giggling. "You said it was okay... I hate you."

"You really don’t."

Her palm rose. Traced my jawline. Thumb tenderly cleared her slick from my chin.

"I want the rest," she murmured softly. "I want you inside me. I want to feel what I’ve been missing for so fucking long."

I kissed her—profound, unhurried, sharing her flavor on my tongue. She groaned into my lips and deepened the kiss.

"You’re sure?"

"I’ve never been more sure."

I stripped while she observed—gaze ravenous now, tracking every muscled contour, flaring when my cock bounced out—thick, weighty, already dripping from the tip.

"Oh," she sighed once more.

"Still warrants repeating?"

"Very much."

I descended over her. Chest against her plush, hefty breasts. Belly to her soft midsection curve. My cock gliding scorching and girthy along her drenched slit, brushing her tender clit each time until she mewled.

"Please," she breathed—the plea that always melted me.

I aligned at her entrance—blazing, quivering, still leaking from climax.

And eased forward—dilating her for the first time in years as her nails raked my back and she gasped my name like a plea to the divine.

Gods, how her pussy welcomed me. I observed it—those full, darkened outer folds splitting lewdly around my cock's broad crown, yielding wide, slick anew as I delved further.

Fuck... she's so tight—unbelievably so after years empty, likely no one ever filled her thus—but drenched, primed, her depths fluttering and clutching me like a silken glove famished for this precise feast.

Each inch I gave made her breasts rise, those ample, nurturing globes shifting with the rhythm, dark nipples rigid and yearning.

I engaged Size Control right as I sensed her boundaries—adjusting my girth instantly, widening just right to stuff her ideally sans hurt, then extending slightly less to tap her cervix on the initial full thrust with none of my cock left out.

Pure girth and satiation!

She wailed—shrill, stunned, thankful—her narrow hips surging to take me.

"Peter—oh my God—it’s—"

I hilted fully. Sheathed completely.

Her pussy seized me in pulsing grips, kneading me from the start, that rich, tangy mature-woman scent bursting as her nectar bathed my balls and soaked the sheets.

I paused briefly, letting her savor it—stuffed, possessed, expanded by a cock overwriting every trace of the prior selfish bastard.

Behold her, peering down at this gorgeous, ignored mother at last fucked as she merited. Years void, now gripping me like she'd never release.

I began thrusting—gradual, profound hip circles, hauling my stout length over every erogenous fold. Magical Touch flowed from my hands as I grasped her oscillating breasts, thumbs orbiting those plump, cocoa nipples, reshaping nerves so each plunge sparked to her clit.

Her back curved sharply, offering those plush, weighty tits to my grip, and she sobbed my name again.

I bent low, drew one dark nipple between my lips while pounding her—profound, consistent strokes producing soaked, vulgar slaps at each collision.

Her pussy frothed on me now, creamy white bands circling my cock's root on every retreat, her folds clinging so firm they tugged out on the draw.

I delivered it to her—right now I craved her climaxing fiercely on my cock. I tilted my hips, let Size Control arc my shaft to scrape her g-spot each thrust. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Thighs clamped my hips.

That lean, maternal abdomen quivered per strike, faint stretch marks glinting silver in the glow as her form claimed its long-denied prize.

I slipped a hand between our bodies, fingers locating her bloated clit—still raw from my mouth—and traced languid, flawless loops while my cock hammered relentlessly.