Her voice was at his ear. Low. Warm. The voice of a succubus who has been patient and is now being practical.
She looked over his shoulder at Soha’s face.
Soha was looking up at her — the dark eyes wide and wet and carrying a specific furious helplessness, her hands on his shoulders, her pregnant belly pressed between them, her entrance pressing back against his cockhead with the involuntary muscle memory of a body that had already orgasmed once and had very strong opinions about what came next despite everything its owner was saying.
"You’re going to become addicted to his cock," the succubus told her.
Her tail flicked.
"It looks delicious."
"I don’t—" Soha started.
"Hm," the succubus said.
She humped her hips forward.
The full press of her pelvis against his ass — her enormous hips slamming into him from behind, the hairy blonde pussy hitting the base of his ass with a wet, warm slap, her boobs mashing flat against his back from the impact, the collision sending a shockwave through him like a clean physical push.
PAH—
He lurched forward.
And nine inches followed.
The moment it happened there was no half-measure — the shockwave from the succubus’s hips pushed him fully, his cock driving forward in one clean deep thrust, past the entrance, past the barrier, through it, the hymen giving way with a resistance that lasted a fraction of a second and then simply ceased to exist.
One inch.
Two.
Three — four — the walls of her stretching around the girth in real time, the tight virgin cunt dragging against his shaft as he sank deeper, the resistance of something that had never been touched closing around every inch of him like a hand that didn’t know how to let go.
Five — six —
"HAAIYAANGH — AAANGH — STOP — STOP — STOP—!!"
The scream tore out of her.
Not the cracked muffled moans of the bathtub or the bitten-off sounds of the bathroom — a full, raw, wall-hitting scream, her back arching so violently that her shoulders left the floor, her pregnant belly rising with the arch, the dome of it bouncing once as her body seized.
Seven inches.
Her boobs snapped upward with the arch — the full heavy swing of them leaving her chest and swinging forward with the force of her spine’s movement, the dark nipples dragging through the air, the underbelly of each breast visible as they rose and then fell back with a slap against her chest.
Milk.
From both nipples simultaneously — thin white threads releasing from the pressure of the arch, the compression of her breast tissue from the violent motion squeezing out two fine streams that ran down the sides of each breast and dripped from the outer curves onto the floor.
Eight inches.
"NIEENGHHT — HAAAANGH — NNGH — I — you—"
Her hands broke from his shoulders.
Both fists hitting the floor beside her — not pushing, not grabbing, just hitting, the flat-palmed slap of a woman whose hands needed somewhere to go and found the floor, the impact loud in the apartment.
Nine.
The full press of his hips against her. His balls settling against the base of her, the skin of the sac warm and heavy against the outer lips of her pussy, the full depth of him inside a body that had been untouched for its entire life and was now comprehensively, completely full.
She was shaking.
Her whole body — her thighs, her belly, her boobs still swinging from the arch, her hands against the floor, her jaw — shaking with the violent, continuous trembling of a nervous system that had received everything at once.
"You — you did it — you—"
The succubus laughed.
Soft. From behind him. Her boobs still pressed against his back, her palm still cupping his balls where she’d held them through the thrust, her tail curling contentedly in the air.
She moved.
Slowly pulling back from his back — her boobs dragging against his skin as she shifted, the elongated nipples leaving two warm trails down his shoulder blades — and then she was moving around them both, her golden wings folding tight, her enormous body moving with the fluid grace of something that has always known exactly where it was going.
She crouched.
Below his hips. Her face level with the junction of them — his cock buried inside Soha, the blood visible at the base of his shaft where it had pressed through what it had pressed through, the thin red threading through her slick that coated his cock from the base upward.
"Ah," the succubus said.
Her voice carried something warm and entirely without horror — the voice of a being for whom this was information rather than distress.
She leaned in.
Her tongue found the base of his shaft.
A long, slow lick — from balls to base, following the underside of his cock where it disappeared into Soha, her tongue warm and thorough and entirely practical, cleaning the blood from the skin with the focused attention of someone performing a task they find interesting.
"Virgin’s blood on a man’s cock," she said, her voice slightly breathless with it. "Now this — this is delicious."
Her mouth found his balls.
Lips wrapping around the sac, her tongue working underneath them, her cheeks hollowing on the pull of it, the suction warm and deliberate and drawing a sound out of him that he kept to a minimum but didn’t entirely manage to suppress.
"Hngh—"
Soha looked up at the ceiling.
Her chest was still heaving. The milk on the sides of her breasts had run down to her ribs and was dripping onto the floor in thin streams. Her hands were still flat on the floor beside her because she had not managed to move them. Her inner walls were clenching around him in the involuntary rhythmic contractions of a body that had been forcibly introduced to something it didn’t know it had been built to accommodate.
The stretch.
She could feel the stretch — the full circumference of him inside her, the walls of her pussy pressed outward to their limit, the fit so tight that every small movement sent signals she had no category for, nerve endings she hadn’t known existed filing reports in real time.
"You bastard," she said.
Her voice came out wrecked and wet and completely without the cold register.
"You did it." A breath. "I will kill you. You—"
His hand came down.
Flat against her pregnant belly — the palm pressing against the swell of it with a warm, steadying weight, feeling the tight skin, feeling the life inside shifting.
He looked at her.
Then his other hand came down.
And smacked the side of her outer thigh.
PAH!
"HYAAK—!!"
The slap sent a shockwave through her hip and up through her inner walls and into everything and the sound she made was not pain and not pleasure and was precisely both simultaneously, her thighs jolting outward from the smack, her inner walls clenching hard around his cock.
"Stop crying," he said.
His voice was even.
"Let me make it easy for you."
He pulled back.
One inch. Two. The slow drag of his cock withdrawing through her tight walls, the friction of the wet drag sending a completely different signal than the entry had, her walls trying to follow him as he pulled back, clinging to the shaft with the involuntary suction of a body that had decided this was where things stayed.
"Nnh—"
He pushed back in.
Four inches. A controlled thrust, the shaft pressing forward through the grip of her, the wet sound of it audible in the quiet apartment.
"Hngh — ngh—"
Back.
Forward. Six.
PAH—
"AANGH~!!"
Her boobs bounced from the thrust — the full weight of both of them swinging upward from the impact, the dark nipples pointing at the ceiling for a half-second before falling back, the milk still present at the tips flicking off from the swing.
The succubus’s mouth worked at his balls with each thrust — her timing adjusting to his rhythm, her lips and tongue following the swing of the sac as his hips moved, her hands pressed flat against his thighs from below, her enormous boobs resting against the floor between Soha’s legs with the weight of them.
PAH— PAH—
"OUNGH~!! — NNN — HHNGH~!!"
His hand stayed on her pregnant belly.
Not gripping — pressing. Feeling the jiggle of it with each thrust, the swell bouncing under his palm from the impacts, the tight skin moving with the transferred force of his hips.
Her boobs were moving continuously now — with each thrust they swung forward and back, the dark nipples dragging arcs in the air, the undersides slapping against her chest on the return, the milk leaking in thin white threads that ran down the curves and collected in the hollow of her sternum.
PAH— PAH— PAAAH—
"HAAIYAANGH — AAANGH — HHHNN~!!"