Her tits (God, her tits) were slick with sweat now, shining like they'd been oiled.
The left one was flushed angry red from her own grip, fingerprints blooming purple across the pale flesh. The nipple she'd been torturing stood out thick and distorted, almost black in the monitor light, glistening with the thin sheen of saliva after she'd bent her head and spat on it herself.
Every brutal thrust made them bounce heavily, slapping together with soft, wet thuds that echoed in Phei's skull.
Her pussy was a ruin.
Swollen outer lips peeled back and darkened to a deep, bruised plum. Inner folds slick and scarlet, clinging to her three plunging fingers like wet silk.
Every time she dragged them out, her hole gaped (pink, shining, fluttering) before she rammed them back in with a fresh flood of clear fluid that poured over her knuckles, splattered the leather, ran in thick rivulets down the crease of her ass and dripped audibly onto the floor beneath the chair.
The scent of it hit him like a fist: hot, sharp, unmistakably fertile.
Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, muscles jumping under sweat-slick skin. The tendons in her neck stood out in rigid cords as her head stayed thrown back, mouth open on a constant stream of broken filth.
"Fuck—use me—fucking ruin me—" The words tore out of her, hoarse, desperate, aimed at the boy on screen who was choking his "aunt" with one hand while he split her open with the other.
Her cunt made a louder, wetter sound than ever (an obscene, greedy squelch) as she twisted her fingers inside herself, curling hard, searching. Her clit jerked visibly with every stroke, so swollen it looked painful, glossy and straining.
Phei's own heartbeat was a deafening roar in his ears. His cock felt like it was going to split the seam of his jeans.
Pre-come had soaked clean through denim now, a cold, sticky patch spreading down his thigh. His balls were drawn up so tight they ached, a constant throb that synced perfectly with every wet slap of her hand against her cunt.
He couldn't breathe without tasting her.
Couldn't blink without seeing the way her pussy fluttered and wept around her fingers.
Couldn't move without feeling the floor tremble under the force of her oncoming orgasm.
The room was nothing but wet sounds and moonlight when--
Phei finally stepped out of the shadows.
His boots made no noise on the rug. The air itself seemed to part for him, thick, humid, reeking of her cunt and the raw, desperate way she'd been fucking herself.
Melissa's eyes locked on him, black and blown wide, fingers buried knuckle-deep in her pussy, frozen mid-thrust.
For one heartbeat the world stopped.
Then her face twisted (shock, fury, shame) all at once.
"Phei, what the fuck—" The words cracked out of her like a whip, the same ice-cold voice she used to make him flinch in the hallway.
She yanked her hand from between her leg with a wet, obscene pop,slick strings snapping, and lunged upright, tits bouncing hard, reaching for the robe on the floor.
He was on her before she could cover an inch of skin.
One stride. Two.
He caught her right wrist mid-swing that she'd been aiming to slap the taste out of his mouth and twisted it behind her back in the exact hold he'd practiced a hundred times in his bedroom mirror.
His other hand snapped around her left wrist before the second slap could land. She was strong (Christ, she was strong), but the angle was perfect and the Charm Speech had already poured molten confidence into his veins.
"Get the fuck off me!" she snarled, trying to jerk away. Her tits bounced as her chest rose and fell in fits of anger, nipples dragging across his shirt, hot and hard as bullets. "You little pervert, I'll have you arrested—"
He shoved her forward, hard.
Her hips crashed into the edge of the desk. The monitor wobbled. The porn was still playing--some boy pinning his aunt's face to a mattress while he railed her from behind, her screams muffled.
Melissa's bare ass hit the wood with a wet slap, slick from her own mess, and Phei pressed in behind her, pinning her wrists at the small of her back with one hand.
With the other he yanked her head around by the hair, forcing her to face the screen.
"Look at it," he said, voice low, rough, teenage-rough but laced with that unnatural velvet the Charm Speech gave him... she moaned. "Look at how fucking soaked you get watching boys half your age break their aunts in half."
Her spine went rigid. A furious flush crawled down her throat, over her tits, all the way to her belly.
"You sick little—" She tried to twist again, but he ground forward, letting her feel exactly what two months of watching her had done to him.
His cock--already, painfully hard, leaking through his jeans, slotted between her plush ass cheeks like it belonged there. The heat of her naked skin burned through the denim.
She gasped, a sharp, shocked sound that turned into a moan before she could bite it back.
"Jesus Christ, you're hard," she hissed, but her hips gave the tiniest involuntary roll, smearing her wetness along his zipper.
He laughed--low, dark, nothing like the nervous kid who used to flinch when she looked at him).
"Feel that?" He dragged his hips slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch straining against her. "That's what you do to me, Aunt Melissa. Every night I watch you finger-fuck this greedy cunt raw while you beg the screen for someone to treat you like the desperate slut you are."
She bucked, trying to throw him off. "I'll scream. I'll tell Harold you raped me. I'll ruin your fucking life—"
"Yeah?" He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice dripping honey and venom. "You'll tell Uncle Harold you were riding three fingers in his chair, dripping all over his thousand-dollar leather, moaning for your nephew's cock?"
Her whole body jerked. A fresh rush of wetness slid down the inside of her thigh; he felt it, hot against his jeans.
"You'll tell Danton his perfect mommy gets off on step-aunt porn?" He ground harder, letting the ridge of his cock drag between her cheeks.
"Tell the whole family you came so hard thinking about a boy forcing you that you pissed yourself a little?"
She made a strangled sound (half rage, half something else).
He released her hair and reached past her, clicking the trackpad until the exact video he wanted filled the screen: "Aunt Melissa-lookalike gets owned by quiet nephew in the study." he whispered in her ears.
The boy on screen bent the woman over the exact same desk.
Phei's voice dropped to a whisper against her ear, sweet and filthy.
"Sweet dreams coming true, huh? Been dreaming about this for years, haven't you? Some quiet little boy finally growing a pair and taking what you've been rubbing that sloppy cunt raw for."
She shuddered so hard her teeth clicked.
He could feel her fighting it--every muscle locked, jaw clenched--but her hips were already moving again, tiny circles, grinding her naked ass back against his clothed cock like she couldn't stop herself.
He chuckled, the sound dark and teenage-mean.
"Just like that," he crooned. "Keep pretending you hate it. Keep rubbing that soaked pussy on my jeans like a needy bitch in heat."
"Shut up," she spat, but it came out breathless, cracked.
His free hand finally (finally) touched her bare skin. Traced the line of her spine, slow, possessive, feeling her tremble under his palm. First woman he'd ever touched like this. His aunt.
His tormentor. His fantasy.
His fingers were shaking.
He hid it by sliding his hand lower, cupping one heavy tit, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. The nipple was still swollen from her own abuse; he rolled it between thumb and forefinger, tugged until she whimpered.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice thick. "Nipples hard enough to cut glass. Cunt dripping down your thighs. And you still wanna pretend you don't want your nephew's cock splitting you open?"
She tried to elbow him. He twisted both her wrists higher between her shoulder blades until she went up on her toes, back arching, tits thrust out, ass pressed even tighter against him.
"Careful," he warned, soft and dangerous. "Keep fighting and I'll bend you over this desk just like your little video. Make you watch yourself get fucked while the whole house sleeps upstairs."
Her breath hitched. Her cunt gave another visible clench--he could see it in the monitor's reflection, another thick bead of slick sliding free.
He released her wrists just long enough to spin her around, shove her chest-down across the desk. Papers scattered. The keyboard clattered to the floor.
She tried to push up he slammed her back down with a hand between her shoulder blades, the other yanking her hips back until her ass was high and open, pussy glistening right in front of him.
The porn moaned behind them: "Say it, Aunt Carrie. Say who owns this cunt."
Phei leaned over her, chest to her sweat-slick back, lips at her ear again.
"Say it, Aunt Melissa," he whispered, letting the Charm Speech pour into every syllable like molten gold. "Say who's gonna own this cunt tonight."
Her whole body shook.
And slowly, helplessly, her hips rolled back, offering herself up to the boy she'd spent ten years treating like dirt.
The war wasn't over.
But the first battle?
He'd just won.
A/N: Guys, thanks for following into yet another amazing journey. Finally, out of vetting, guys, ya can now vote and give your reviews.