She licked the slit.
One direct, flat-tongued press against the very tip, her tongue pressing into the opening and pulling back with the slow drag of someone tasting something they’ve decided they like.
"Mmh." The sound carried information. "All that from one little pregnant woman."
His jaw moved.
"She’s not little."
"No." She licked down the shaft again. Full stroke. Base to tip, the underside vein traced precisely. "She’s not."
Her tongue came back up.
Found the crown.
Circled it — the tip of her tongue tracing the corona in one slow, complete revolution, following the ridge all the way around, her golden eyes looking up at him through her lashes the entire time.
His breathing had changed into the controlled breathing of a man managing himself carefully.
She noticed.
Her smile formed against the side of his shaft — visible there, pressed against his skin.
"There it is," she said quietly.
Then she moved to his balls.
Her hand pushed his cock upward and out of the way — resting it against his abs, the shaft lying flat there, the head near his navel — and her face came down to the sac.
She opened her mouth.
Wide.
Both of them.
She took both balls into her mouth simultaneously — the full weight of the sac, the coarse skin pressing against her tongue, her jaw stretching to accommodate the width of both together, her cheeks rounding outward with the fullness of it.
"Hmmmhhnn—"
The vibration of the moan through his balls went places that the throat-work hadn’t reached — the direct vibration against the sac sending a rolling shockwave upward through the base of his cock that made the shaft twitch visibly against his abs.
"Hhgh—"
His hand in her hair pressed down.
She rolled her tongue.
Both balls rolling against each other on the surface of it, the texture of the sac dragging across the warm flat of her tongue, her cheeks hollowing as she applied suction to the whole of it.
"Mmmhhhnn — mmph—"
He looked at the ceiling for a moment.
She released them.
The sound of the release was wet and deliberate — schlck — his balls falling free from her lips, the skin of the sac shining wet in the lamplight, the cords tight from the suction.
She looked up at him.
Her chin wet. Her lips swollen from the work. Her golden eyes carrying the specific satisfaction of a being who has found a task commensurate with her abilities.
"You know what I haven’t done yet," she said.
She grabbed her own boobs.
Both hands lifting the enormous weight of them — the full pale mass of each one pressing outward between her fingers, the elongated pink nipples stiff and pointing forward, the undersides resting on her forearms as she held them up.
She pressed them together.
The deep cleavage forming between them as the flesh compressed, the channel between them slick with the warmth of her skin, the soft give of both enormous breasts pressing against each other creating something specifically designed.
She looked at his cock.
He looked at her boobs.
She leaned forward.
His cock disappeared between them.
The soft, warm, impossible weight of both breasts closing around his shaft — the skin warmer than human skin, the softness categorically different, the pressure of the two enormous masses squeezing the full length of his cock in a grip that had no hard edges, nothing sharp, just warm.
"Mnghh—"
The sound came from him this time.
She began to move.
Her torso rising and falling, the channel of her boobs sliding up and down his shaft in a slow, wet rhythm, the friction of soft skin against the underside of his cock creating a heat that built with each stroke.
PAH— the sound of her boobs slapping together at the base of each stroke, the flesh compressed and bouncing, the enormous weight of them jiggling with each movement.
"How does it feel," she said, "to fuck the tits of a demon?"
He didn’t answer immediately.
His hand moved to the top of one of her breasts — pressing down slightly, increasing the pressure around his shaft, the flesh compressing further.
"Ask me when I can form words," he said.
She laughed against his cock.
The vibration of it hitting the underside of his shaft through her boobs.
Her face came down as she moved — each upward stroke of her boobs bringing her face close to the head of his cock, her tongue extending on each approach, licking the crown on each upstroke, a slow methodical double-stimulus that combined the tit-fuck with the lick in rotating contact.
Stroke — lick.
Stroke — lick.
"Mmmhh — Umnmghh~♡~"
"You’re going to cum on my face," she said, between licks.
Not a question.
"And my boobs." Her tongue pressed into the slit on the next upstroke. "All of it."
"And you’re going to tell me it’s the best you’ve ever done."
His hips had started moving.
The involuntary upward thrust of a man whose body has taken over the clock — his cock pushing upward through her boob-channel on each downstroke of hers, the double motion adding force and friction, the tip of him emerging from the top of the cleavage on each thrust and finding her waiting tongue.
She pressed her boobs harder together.
The flesh of them squeezing tighter around his shaft, the warmth intensifying, her elongated nipples dragging against his thighs on each stroke.
"Mmhnn — Unmmnghh~~♡♡~"
His hand found the back of her head again.
Not pushing — just there, his fingers in her blonde hair, the grip of a man who needs contact with something.
She looked up at him.
Golden irises. Tears from the earlier deep throat still dried on her cheeks. Her lips parted on each upstroke to catch him.
He came.
Not with a warning — the release arriving at the base of his spine and moving outward faster than he could organize a response to it, his cock pulsing hard between her breasts.
The first rope hit her face.
Directly. The thick white load striking across her left cheekbone and the bridge of her nose, the warmth of it immediate against her skin.
The second hit her boobs — the enormous left breast taking the full impact, the white load painting across the swell of it in a heavy stripe that ran from the inner curve to the nipple and collected at the tip.
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Her face and her chest receiving it all — her cheeks, her chin, the space between her boobs, the front of both enormous breasts, his cum running in warm rivulets down the pale skin and collecting in the undersides where they rested on her forearms.
She sat back.
Looked at herself.
Her hands still holding her boobs, the cum running between her fingers where it had dripped from the underside. Her face matted — both cheeks, her chin, her nose, the cum tracking down toward her jaw in slow warm lines.
She spread her legs.
Her blonde pussy visible between her thick thighs, and she reached down with one hand and spread herself — two fingers pulling the puffy lips apart, the pink of her inner walls catching the lamplight.
"My bad," she said.
Her voice carried nothing that resembled contrition.
"It seems your cock has gone limp again."
She looked at his cock — the shaft softening after the load, hanging lower between his thighs with the post-release weight.
"Not meant to go in here." She tilted her head. "Pretty bad ride."
He looked at her.
The corners of his mouth moved.
He snapped his fingers.
The healing ability — Seleyena’s gift, the S-rank cellular restoration pulled from the ability catalog — moved through his body in a wave of warm amber energy, starting at the base and traveling outward. The post-orgasm fatigue clearing from his muscles. The sensitivity resetting. The blood returning with the specific purposeful rush of a system restored to prime.
His cock hardened.
Not gradually — in the span of three seconds, the shaft filling back to its full nine inches, the veins pressing against the surface, the crimson head darkening back to its full flushed color, the slit glistening with fresh pre-cum like the last forty minutes hadn’t happened.
She looked at it.
She looked at him.
"I want your anal first," he said.
The apartment went very quiet.
Her golden eyes blinked once.
"What."
Not a question. The sound a person makes when they’ve heard something correctly and are giving themselves one more second to confirm that they heard it correctly.
He came off the couch.