100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 717: Chapter 716- Holy Water squirting Priestess

Eleven. Twelve. Balls deep.

His hips pressed against her ass. His cock, twelve inches, was fully inside. The head, the thick crimson crown, was against her cervix. The organ, the barrier to her womb, was pressed. Not broken. Compressed. The ’I-am-at-the-door-of-your-womb’ pressure.

He lay on her. His chest, broad and warm, pressed against her breasts. The milk, the residual fluid, was squeezed between their bodies. His face found hers. His lips, close, brushed her cheek.

"You are evil," she whispered. The words, the ’you-took-my-virginity-in-a-stable’ accusation, were delivered through tears. "You are evil. You are a devil. You are a monster."

He kissed her. The contact was gentle. Not the claiming, devouring kiss of before. Soft. The ’I-know’ kiss that was both apology and acknowledgment.

"Am I really evil?" he whispered against her lips. The question was quiet. The ’think-about-it’ tone that required her to engage. "Does evil come from divine light?"

The memory hit. The platform. The sky. The golden light. The healing. The ’a-saint-has-descended’ descent. The divine energy, the holy power that had healed an entire town square. The power that came from him. From the man whose cock was currently buried twelve inches inside her.

She trembled.

’He came from divine light,’ she thought. The memory, the ’I-witnessed-a-miracle’ memory, was undeniable. ’The Goddess’s own power flowed through him. He healed everyone. The old woman’s hip. The farmer’s fingers. The child’s fever. All healed. All through him.’

’If he were evil, could he wield divine power?’

’If he were a devil, could the Goddess’s light flow through him?’

’The Goddess chose him.’

’The Goddess chose the man who is inside me.’

The realization, the ’the-Goddess-herself-has-chosen-this-man’ realization, shook her. The foundation, the ’I-am-pure-because-I-serve-the-Goddess’ foundation, cracked. The ’the-Goddess-chose-him-and-he-chose-me’ logic that was terrifying and undeniable.

He started to move.

The first withdrawal was slow. The shaft, twelve inches, slid out. Inch by inch. The walls, gripping, released. The friction, the ’she-doesn’t-want-to-let-go’ friction, was intense. The blood, the virgin blood, slicked the passage. The pink fluid, the combination of blood and arousal, coated his shaft.

He pulled back to the head. The cockhead, the thick crown, sat at the entrance. The opening, stretched and swollen, gripped the head. The ’she-is-holding-me-at-the-threshold’ grip that was both reluctance and invitation.

He pushed back in.

Pah—!!

"Ah—!!♡!"

The thrust was slow. Deep. The full twelve inches, in one stroke, returned. The head hit her cervix. The pressure, the ’I-am-at-your-womb’ pressure, was constant. The walls, stretched and filled, gripped.

Pah. Pah. Pah.

The rhythm was gentle. Slow. Not the brutal, machine-gun pace he had used on the others. The pace of a man who was not just fucking but claiming. Taking. Making. The ’you-are-now-mine’ pace that was more devastating than any violence.

"Pah—♡ pah—♡ pah—♡"

"Ah—♡ ah—♡ ah—♡"

The sounds were soft. Wet. The ’schlick-schlick’ of cock in cunt, of blood and arousal mixing, was audible. The Pah of his hips meeting her ass was quiet. Measured.

"AAAAHH—!!♡♡!! VIKTOR—!!♡♡!!"

His hands found hers. Pinned them above her head. The ’I-am-in-control’ gesture that left her body, from the neck down, completely exposed. Her breasts, heavy and full, lay on her chest. The nipples, stiff and leaking, stood erect. Her belly, the round soft belly, rose and fell with each thrust. Her pussy, the hairy, blood-smeared, cock-filled cunt, was visible between her spread thighs.

He kissed her. The kiss, the French kiss, the tongue-in-mouth kiss, was deep. Claiming. Her moans, swallowed by his mouth, vibrated through their joined lips.

"Mmm—♡ mmph—♡ ahh—♡"

Her legs wrapped around his hips. The ’I-am-holding-you-inside-me’ gesture that was both surrender and desire. Her ankles, locked behind his ass, pulled him deeper. The ’more’ pull that her body produced while her mind was drowning in the pink fog and the pleasure and the ’the-Goddess-chose-him’ realization.

’His cock,’ she thought. The thought, the first coherent thought since the pheromones hit, floated in the warm fog. ’His cock is inside me. All of it. Twelve inches. I can feel it. In my belly. Against my womb. He is inside me where no man has ever been.’

’It hurts. It still hurts. But it also feels...’

Pah—♡

"...good," she whispered. The word, the ’it-feels-good’ confession, was the most difficult word she had ever spoken. More difficult than any prayer. More difficult than any vow. The admission, the ’my-body-likes-this’ admission, was the end of everything she had been.

"You are evil," she whispered. The words were without conviction. The ’I-am-saying-this-because-I-should’ protest that was form without substance.

Pah pah pah—!!

"Ah—♡♡!! Ah—♡♡!! Ah—♡♡!!"

He increased the pace. The thrusts became faster. The Pah became PAH. The gentle, claiming rhythm became something more urgent. More demanding. The ’I-want-more’ pace that pushed her body into the hay with each impact.

PAH PAH PAAH—!!

"AAAAHH—!!♡♡!! VIKTOR—!!♡♡!! TOO FAST—!!♡♡!! I CANNOT—!!♡♡♡!!"

He shifted. The position changed. His hands, still pinning hers above her head, released. He grabbed her ankles. Pushed them toward her shoulders. The mating press. The ’I-am-going-to-go-as-deep-as-possible’ position that folded her body in half.

Her knees were beside her ears. Her thighs were pressed against her chest. Her ass was raised. Her pussy, the hairy, swollen, cock-filled cunt, was angled upward. The position, the ’I-am-completely-open’ position, gave him full access.

PAH PAH PAAH PHACK—!!

"AAAAAAHH—!!♡♡♡♡♡!!"

He drove. The cock, twelve inches, hit her cervix with each thrust. The impact, the ’I-am-punching-your-womb’ impact, was sharp. The pain, the deep, internal, ’he-is-too-deep’ pain, mixed with the pleasure. The combination, the ’I-cannot-tell-which-is-which’ combination, was overwhelming.

He turned her. Without pulling out. The motion, the rotation of her body on his cock, made her gasp. Her face hit the hay. Her ass was in the air. Her knees were on the ground. The doggystyle position. The ’I-am-going-to-fuck-you-like-an-animal’ position that was, given the stable and the horse and the hay, alarmingly appropriate.

PAH PAH PAH PAAH—!!

"AAAAHH—!!♡♡♡!! LIKE—!!♡♡!! AN ANIMAL—!!♡♡♡!! YOU ARE—!!♡♡♡!! FUCKING ME—!!♡♡♡!! LIKE A—!!♡♡♡!! MARE—!!♡♡♡♡!!"

His hands found her hips. The grip was bruising. His fingers dug into the soft, full flesh. He pulled her back onto his cock with each thrust.

The impact, the PAAH of his hips hitting her thick ass, was loud. The flesh, the mature, soft, round cheeks, rippled with each impact. The sound, the ’her-ass-is-clapping’ sound, filled the stable.

The horse, in the adjacent stall, shifted. The mare, disturbed by the noise, turned its head. Watched. The equine eyes, large and brown, observed the scene with the disinterest of an animal that understood nothing and cared less.

Myra saw the horse watching.

’I am being fucked next to a horse,’ she thought. The ’the-horse-is-watching-me-get-fucked’ reality that was so absurd, so impossible, so ’this-cannot-be-my-life’ that it circled past shame and into something else. ’He is fucking me with a cock the size of a horse’s cock while the horse watches. He called me a mare. And my body... my body is...’

’Loving it.’

’My pussy is loving his cock. My walls are gripping him. My hips are pushing back. I am pushing back. I am fucking him back. I am a priestess and I am fucking a man back while a horse watches.’

’What have I become?’

His hands found her breasts. From behind. Both of them. He cupped. Squeezed. The milk, the buff-carrying fluid, sprayed. Thin white streams that hit the hay. His fingers, wet with milk, dug into the soft tissue. He pulled. The motion arched her back. The angle changed. The cock, already deep, went deeper.

"AAAAHH—!!♡♡♡!!"

He leaned. Over her back. His mouth found her shoulder. Bit. The pain, the ’he-is-biting-me’ pain, was sharp. The mark, the purple bruise, bloomed on her pale skin.

PAH PAH PAAH PHACK—!!

"I’M—!!♡♡♡!! CUMMING—!!♡♡♡!! AGAIN—!!♡♡♡!! I CANNOT—!!♡♡♡♡!! STOP—!!♡♡♡♡!!"