"Tell me what Harold calls you in bed," he hissed.
Melissa's walls clamped down on him like a fist milking him with the rhythm of her shame.
"He… he calls me 'honey,'" she whimpered. "He calls me 'baby.' He calls me his good little wife while he lasts thirty seconds inside me."
"And what am I calling you right now?"
She broke completely, beautifully, eternally.
"You're calling me Aunt Melissa while you fuck me raw," she sobbed, voice splintering into shards. "You're calling me yours while you rewrite my soul with your cock."
He slammed in so hard her knee buckled on the desk and her wedding ring scraped the wood with a screech.
"Again."
"I'm Aunt Melissa and I belong to my nephew's cock now," she wailed, tears streaming. "I'm a disgusting, faithless, incestuous whore and I've never felt more alive because the boy I hurt is finally fucking me the way I want and erasing what Harold has been writing in me for years, fucking me back in the only way that heals me."
Her orgasm hit like a seizure cunt spasming, squirting messily around his pistoning shaft in violent, shameful arcs that soaked his balls, the floor, her own trembling thighs and the discarded photo frame of her and Harold on their wedding day.
She screamed his name not nephew just his name, raw and reverent, like a prayer and a curse in one like absolution and damnation intertwined.
Phei didn't stop.
He fucked her through it, growling the truth into her ear with every thrust each word a nail in the coffin of who they were:
"This is what you were made for. Not his polite little missionary nights. My cock. My aunt's cunt was always meant to take her nephew's cum like communion."
Melissa nodded frantically, babbling broken apologies and gratitude and decades of repressed desire, her ringed finger still rubbing frantic circles on her clit smearing their mixed fluids over the symbol of her marriage.
When he finally came, he buried himself as deep as humanly possible deeper than Harold had ever been, deeper than any man had ever deserved and unloaded with a snarl that sounded more animal than boy more god than human.
Pulse after pulse of thick, forbidden seed flooded her marking her womb with family blood, painting her walls white, claiming her in the most irreversible way possible breeding the aunt who'd once broken him.
He held her there, both of them shaking both of them reborn, until the last drop was wrung out of him and her cunt still fluttered around him in grateful, guilty aftershocks.
Then he leaned down again, lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice soft and deadly calm but shaking with the enormity of it.
"Every time you sit at this desk from now on, Aunt Melissa… every time you look at that ring… every time you feel an ache between your legs or a drip of wetness you can't explain… you're going to feel me leaking out of you. And you're going to remember exactly who you belong to body, blood, and ruined soul."
She turned her tear-streaked face toward him, eyes shining with something beyond submission something ruined and reborn something that looked a lot like love wrapped in sin.
"Yes, Phei," she whispered, voice raw and trembling with truth. "I'm yours. Your aunt is yours. Forever."
And for the first time in his life, the boy everyone called trash felt like the only god in the room and the aunt who'd make him feel worthless finally knelt at the altar she'd created.
He didn't give her time to breathe.
With a snarl he yanked out of her (one long, wet, obscene drag that turned her cunt inside-out, pink inner walls clinging to his shaft in glossy, desperate sleeves) and flipped her onto her back across the desk. Papers exploded outward; the broken monitor crunched under her shoulders. He shoved her thighs apart so violently her knees slammed against the wood on either side, splitting her open like a sacrifice.
Moonlight poured over her: tits heaving, nipples black-cherry and wrecked, wedding ring glinting, cunt gaping and drooling a thick rope of their mixed fluids that pooled beneath her ass.
Phei climbed up after her, knees planted between her spread legs, and fisted his cock (angry purple, veins like cables, shining with her cream from root to flared crown). He slapped it down against her clit once, twice, three times (heavy, wet thuds that made her whole body jerk and a broken scream rip from her throat).
Then he lined up and drove in.
One merciless thrust.
The fat head breached her with a wet pop, stretching her swollen entrance into a perfect, straining O that blanched white around his girth.
Her cunt fought for half a heartbeat still impossibly tight even after everything, then surrendered with a filthy, sucking glurk as he punched through the clutch of her walls and buried every inch in a single, brutal stroke.
Her back bowed off the desk, tits thrusting upward, a raw animal howl tearing loose as he bottomed out, cockhead kissing her cervix so hard the impact jolted through her womb.
He didn't pause.
He pulled back slow, deliberate, cruel until just the crown stretched her open, until her inner lips dragged outward in glossy pink petals clinging to his shaft, until her entrance fluttered and gaped hungrily at the sudden emptiness.
A thick ring of cream coated his length, dripping off his balls in heavy strands.
Then he slammed home again.
Harder.
The desk rocked violently beneath them. Her tits bounced so hard the soft flesh slapped her chin. Her asshole exposed and twitching with every thrust clenched rhythmically, winking open and closed like a second mouth begging for attention, slick with the overflow running down her crack.
Again. Again. Again.
Each thrust was a punishment and a prayer: the wet, obscene sound of her cunt being reamed open schlick-schlick-SCHLICK filling the room, her walls gripping him so tight he had to fight his way back in every time, her body jerking up the desk with the force until he hooked his arms under her knees and pinned her wide open.