Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 616

Chapter 616: Breaking Mom’s Barriers (r-18)

The air saturated with the scorching musk of Linda’s pussy, the sharp tang of her saliva dripping from my cock, the bitter polish of the ebony piano lid slick with her come, and the thick, salty reek of my pre-cum smeared across her tongue and chin.

Shadows casted across--her ravaged body—knees bruised on the plush rug, breasts heaving, nipples dark and swollen like ripe berries begging to be sucked raw, thighs glistening with her arousal, the tattered lace skirt a twisted shred around her waist, her face a wreck of tear-streaked lust, lips swollen and glistening with strings of spit and my leaking cock-slime, chin dripping with spit.

My cock throbbed in the air, massive, veiny, glistening with her saliva, the head swollen and leaking thick ropes of pre-cum that dangled like obscene pearls, pulsing with every heartbeat. Her moans lingered—

"HNNGH—Peter—fuck—more!"—raw, desperate, and she screamed her thoughts aloud in a broken, filthy whisper...

"Your cock, baby—my son’s massive fucking cock is so big, so beautiful—keep fucking your mother’s throat, ram it deeper, make me choke on the dick that came out of this pussy!"

We’d crossed the line, and there was no going back.

I yanked her to her feet, my hands clawing her hips, fingers bruising the scalding, sweat-slick flesh, the heat of her skin searing my palms. Her eyes locked on mine, wild with love and lust, and I tore her clothes from her body.

My fingers hooked the lace bralette, already shredded, and I ripped it apart, the fabric tearing with a sharp RRRIP, her breasts bouncing free, heavy and flushed, nipples throbbing hard as bullets, begging for teeth.

I grabbed the lace skirt, bunched at her waist, and shredded it, the delicate threads snapping, the ruined fabric fluttering to the rug like black confetti.

She was completely naked now, her body a glistening altar—curves slick with sweat, stretch marks a sacred map of the body that carried and birthed me, pussy swollen and dripping thick cream down her inner thighs, ass red with my handprints and still twitching from my tongue in her hole.

Her gasp was raw—"HNNGH—Peter!"—and she begged out loud, voice shaking: "Strip your mother bare, baby—rip it all off, leave me nothing but a naked, dripping slut for my own son!"

I didn’t stop. My shirt was next, buttons popping as I tore it off, the fabric ripping, my chest bare, muscles flexing, sweat glistening in the candlelight. M

y jeans were already around my ankles; I kicked them off, the denim thudding to the floor, my cock springing free again, monstrous, veiny, the head slick with her spit and my pre-cum oozing in a steady stream.

She gasped again, sharper—"HRRRH—fuck, baby!"—her eyes wide, and she moaned her thoughts like a prayer: "Look at it wanting me—my son’s cock is fucking huge, veiny, perfect—it’s going to wreck your mother’s cunt, split me in half, and I’m begging you to ruin me with it!"

I sat on the piano bench, the leather cool against my ass, my cock jutting upward, a throbbing monolith dripping and twitching for her. "Come here," I growled, voice shredded.

My mother, naked, about to ride her son’s cock, to take me inside the pussy.

She straddled me, her thighs trembling, the heat of her skin radiating, her pussy hovering inches above my cock, dripping thick strands of girl-cum that stretched and snapped onto my shaft, the scent—musk, salt, her—choking my lungs.

Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging, the sting sharp, her breasts brushing my chest, nipples scraping my skin, the texture electric like hot wires.

She descended, slow, deliberate, her eyes never leaving mine, the forbidden a living pulse between us, and she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Ahhh~~~ Feel your mother’s cunt kiss your cockhead, baby—my own son at the gate of the pussy that made him—wrong, so fucking wrong, and so goddamn perfect."

Her pussy lips, swollen and flushed a deep, angry pink, peeled open like petals soaked in honey, clinging to the flared crown of my cock as she hovered. The glistening inner folds trembled, slick with her cream, stretching wide around the purple, bloated head, the delicate skin turning almost translucent as it strained to take me.

A thick strand of her arousal stretched from her clit to my slit, snapping wetly as the pressure built.

She sank.

The tight ring of her entrance resisted for a heartbeat--eighteen years of celibacy fighting one last time, then gave with a lewd, sucking POP. The ridge of my cockhead forced her open, the pink flesh blooming outward, spreading into a perfect, obscene O around my girth.

Her pussy lips thinned and whitened at the edges from the brutal stretch, hugging every vein as the helmet disappeared inside her, swallowed by the scalding, velvety tunnel that hadn’t known a cock since the night she made me.

Inch by tortured inch, her cunt gaped wider, the slick walls dragging and rippling over the thick veins bulging along my shaft.

I could see the outline of my monstrous cock pushing against the soft skin of her lower belly, a rigid column forcing its way back into the body that birthed it. Her juices gushed around the invasion, forced out in creamy rivulets that coated my balls and dripped in heavy strings to the bench below.

Every ridge, every throbbing vein carved into her untouched flesh, parting her deeper, deeper, until her pussy lips kissed the base of my cock, stretched so thin they looked painted on, quivering around me like they’d never close again.

She was impaled, ruined, claimed, her son’s cock buried to the root in the same cunt that once pushed him into the world, and the obscene bulge in her abdomen pulsed with every heartbeat of the dick that now owned her completely.

She gasped, a raw, broken sound—"AAAAH—PETER—FUCK!"—her hips jerking, and she wailed: "You’re too fucking big, baby—my son’s monster cock is tearing his mother’s pussy apart—hurts so good, stretch me, ruin me!"

The sensation was obscene: her pussy clamping around me like a fist, the velvety heat gripping every inch, the friction excruciating as I pushed deeper, her walls fluttering, stretching to accommodate my size, ridges of my veins dragging over every raw nerve inside her.

Inch by inch, she sank, her moans a jagged symphony—"HNNGH—UNGH—GRRRH—FUCK, BABY!"—each one punched from her gut, raw and desperate, and she kept confessing: "Fill me, Peter—stuff your mother’s starving cunt with every inch of the cock I made—make me take it all!"

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify