Free Web NovelChapter 523: Chapter 523- Edda got her first Orgasm
Her body moved with each thrust.
Not sliding — she was in the air, her feet off the ground, her whole body swinging forward on each stroke and pulling back on each withdrawal, his grip on her hips the only fixed point, her tits swinging with the motion, the nipples hard and dragging through the air with every arc.
PAH PHACK PHACK—
"NGGHHH~!! AAANGH~!! KYAAANGH~!!"
"Slow—" The word came out between impacts, broken into syllables by the thrusts. "Slo— hah— slow— down— I do not— hah— I cannot— hah— understand— Dragon Lord— I—"
His hand found her tit.
The full grip of it — her right breast filling his palm, the dense, heavy flesh of it compressing under his fingers, the nipple pressing against the center of his hand.
He squeezed.
"HAAAH~!! NGH— that— hah— why does— hah—"
"Leave your body to me," he said.
PAH PAH PHAAAAACK—
"AANGH~!! NNGHH~!! AAAAAANGHH~!!!"
"I will train it," he continued, his hips maintaining their rhythm, his hand maintaining its grip on her tit, "into becoming a perfect vessel."
She was trying to speak. Her mouth was open and she was trying to form words between the impacts and the gasps and the continuous cracked sound of her own voice producing things she had never produced before.
"Hah— vessel— hah— vessel for— hah—"
"A dragon egg," he said.
She stopped.
Not her body. Her body did not stop — her body was being moved by forces that did not require her participation. But her mind stopped, and the stop was visible on her face, the particular frozen quality of a woman who has heard something that requires processing and does not currently have the resources to process it.
"Hah—" She breathed. "What— hah— a dragon— hah— what— ’EGG—’"
He bit her nipple.
Both.
His mouth found her right nipple and his teeth closed around it — the full, hard pressure of his teeth against the stiff peak, his tongue pressing flat against the tip — and he pulled. Upward. Drawing the nipple and the full mouthful of the tit with it, the soft flesh stretching, the skin pulled taut.
SLRRRP—
Her eyes lurched.
Upward. The irises going, the whites appearing, the lashes wet and trembling with the tears that had been running continuously since the first stroke.
Her head arched back.
Her throat opened.
Her mouth opened.
And from somewhere below her conscious mind — below the fifty years, below the training, below the dragon slayer and the teacher and the woman who had said ’I am disappointed’ with absolute certainty today — something came loose.
The squirt hit his balls first.
Then the ground.
The full, hot, transparent fountain of it — not a drip, not a trickle, the genuine hydraulic output of a cunt that has been taken apart from the inside by twelve inches of adjusted dragon cock and a set of teeth on its owner’s nipple simultaneously. It hit his pelvis and ran down his thighs and hit the ground in a stream that did not stop for four full seconds.
His cock pulled out with the stream still going.
The moment the head cleared her entrance, the squirt redirected — no longer angled down, now angled outward, the fountain spraying across his stomach and his chest in the particular direction that the opened cunt produced when there was nothing inside it anymore to redirect the flow.
She fell.
His grip had released.
She didn’t know when. Somewhere in the bite and the squirt her hands had released his shirt and her legs had released his hips and gravity had completed an argument that her body no longer had the means to contest.
Her back hit the ground.
The impact was soft — the grass at the pool’s edge, the waterfall mist making everything damp, the ground taking her weight with the gentleness of something that has been waiting to receive her.
She lay.
Legs spread. The ruined skirt around her thighs. The moonlight on her face. Her tits on her chest pointing at the sky, her nipples dark and marked and wet. Her abs still twitching with the aftershock of muscles that had been clenched around something for too long and were still firing on the ghost of it.
Her pussy.
Her pussy was open. Visibly, obviously, irreversibly open — the lips spread, the inner walls flushed and wet, the whole area rearranged from its previous configuration into the new one that twelve inches had spent the last few minutes introducing it to.
She stared at the moon.
Her chest moved up and down.
She breathed.
"Hah— hah— hah—"
In and out. In and out. The raw, honest, undisguised breathing of a woman whose body is running a systems check and has not yet received all the results.
"What—" She breathed. "What— hah— what is— hah— WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH ME—!!!!~~!?!!"
He crouched over her.
His cock still hard above her face — the full twelve inches of it glistening in the moonlight, the crimson head dark and flushed, every green vein along its length standing out with the pressure of something that has not finished its work.
She was still twitching.
Her abs firing in irregular intervals, the dense muscle of her stomach contracting and releasing without her instruction, her thighs pressing together and falling open, pressing together and falling open, her body running through its own aftershock catalogue with the systematic thoroughness of a fighter’s physiology that does not know how to do anything halfway.
He reached down.
Two fingers. His index and thumb finding her clit — the swollen, erected nub of it pressing upward from its hood, flushed and dark and three times its resting size from everything that had been done to its surrounding territory.
He pinched it.
Hard. freewebnøvel.com
"NNNGHH— HAH— WHAT— HAH—"
Her hips lurched off the ground. Not an inch. Six inches. The full thrust of her lower body driving upward involuntarily, her abs contracting so hard the ridges of them stood out in the moonlight like carved stone, her heels pressing into the grass.
Her eyes rolled.
Down and up and down again — the irises sliding in continuous, helpless circles, her lashes wet, her pupils blown wide and then contracting with each pulse of the pinch.
She bit her lip.
The lower lip between her teeth, the blood coming immediately — not much, the thin red line of a woman biting down on something because the sound trying to leave her throat is one she has not decided to authorize yet.
The authorization failed.
"HAH— NGH— HAH— WHAT— HAH— WHAT IS—"
And then she came. freewёbnoνel.com
The orgasm did not arrive with warning. It detonated — the full, compressed, catastrophic release of a body that had been building toward something for fifty years without knowing it was building, the pleasure coming out of her not in waves but in a single, total, overwhelming blast that moved from the pinched clit outward to every extremity simultaneously.
She pissed herself.
Right there. Right then. The full loss of pelvic floor control that a body produces when every voluntary system vacates at once — the warm release running down her inner thighs, mixing with the squirt still trickling from her entrance, soaking the ruined skirt beneath her.
She didn’t know.
Her eyes were open and looking at the moon and seeing nothing. Her mouth was open and producing sounds that were not words. Her hands were flat in the grass at her sides and her fingers were pressing into the ground and finding no purchase.
"Hah— hah— hah—"
She breathed.
"What— hah— glasses— I— hah— I see— hah— what is—"
