Night at the Inn (2): Three Unions and an Experiment

At the moment of union, Marisa dug her nails into my back. Hard.

"Ahh...!"

A moan close to a scream burst out as I entered her. Oh, her pussy clenched tight around me, gripping like a vice. After five years of emptiness, her body couldn't handle my cock filling it all at once. The slick, molten walls of her pussy enveloped my shaft. Hot and wet, they sucked me in, squeezing rhythmically.

"Haa... this feeling is all new to me..."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"No... no, it's strange... my body's so hot..."

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Not from pain, but from the overwhelming emotion of being filled after five long years. I began moving my hips slowly. Squish, squish, squish-squish-squish.

Marisa's mature body undulated beneath me like waves. Her massive tits swayed side to side with a wet slap. Flesh smacked against flesh, echoing through the room.

"Even with my husband... haa, never like this..."

Still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comparing me to her husband. Tonight, I'd erase every memory of his cock from her mind. Delete it completely, leave only mine.

"Marisa. I'm going deeper."

"...Pardon? Ah, aaah—?!"

I hooked my hands behind her knees and folded her legs up. They shot straight up in an instant. Her waist bent in half, knees brushing her shoulders. A perfect Y-shape. Her pussy gaped fully toward the ceiling.

"D-Do-hyun...? This position—"

"Don't move. It's more comfortable this way."

A blatant lie. This was the position with the highest chance of impregnation. Mating press, straight to the womb.

I put my full weight into it. Slammed my hips down vertically from above. Thud.

"Eek—!"

A sound I'd never heard before—not a scream, not a sigh. The spot my cock had just hit. A place normal missionary couldn't reach. Her cervix.

"Wh-what was that—?! Just now—"

"Your womb, Marisa. I just touched your womb."

"A cock—reaches that far—?!"

It does. Otherworld buffed 22 centimeters plus mating press. The place her husband hadn't touched in five years—now marked by me for the first time. Thud. Thud. Thud.

I found a rhythm and pounded straight down. Not squish, but thud. The sound of my cock battering deep inside her.

"Ah, aa— what is this— what—"

"That's the sensation of hitting your womb."

"No— not there— anywhere but there—"

"Why?"

"If it hits my womb— I'll— I'll—"

A woman's instinct. When a cock strikes the cervix, it senses invasion. The threat of pregnancy. And beneath that, undeniable pleasure. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her tits, folded up by her face, jiggled and bounced with each slam.

"Do-hyun— my head— my head's going white—"

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud! I ramped up the tempo, hammering her cervix relentlessly.

"Hiiik— my head's— gonna— burst—"

"You can go, Marisa."

Her tongue lolled out. Her face lost control. Eyes unfocused. The milf crossing her limit.

Her pussy clenched even tighter.

"D-Do-hyun— I— something's— coming—"

Marisa's back arched like a bow.

"Haaaaah—!"

Her whole body shuddered in spasms as she hit her first orgasm in five years. Her pussy gripped insanely—squeeze, squeeze, squeeze—milking my cock in convulsions. Oh, orgasmic pussy clench was insane.

Her body bowed then slowly relaxed.

"Haa... haa..."

I kissed her cheek as she panted roughly.

"Did it feel good?"

"...Yes. Nothing like this before."

Marisa buried her face in my chest. One round wouldn't end it. Five years of pent-up need wouldn't release in one go. And I hadn't cum yet.

Marisa reached out first. Shy but deliberate. Her fingertips trailed from my chest to abs, then lower abdomen.

"One more time... is that okay?"

"If you want it, Marisa."

"...I do."

The milf taking the initiative. For the second round, she climbed on top. Creak, creak. Her mature curves rippled over me like waves in the moonlight. Sweat-glistened skin sparkled. Her tits bounced heavily. Each slap against my chest sent a soft jiggle through them.

Ah, this sight. Every man's fantasy. Slap. Slap. Squish-squish.

Juices leaked from her pussy, soaking our union. Marisa closed her eyes and rocked her hips. No tears this time. A smile. Liberation.

A woman's true smile, only when a cock fills her pussy.

"This is... okay too, right?"

"Of course."

"Haat, haaang, nga...!"

Thud-thud-thud—the bed's headboard banged the wall. Speed building. Squish-squish-squish!

For her second climax, Marisa arched back on me and screamed "Aaaah—!" like her vocal cords would tear. Her pussy spasmed, squeezing wildly. I was at my limit too. Couldn't hold back against that milf pussy grip. Felt like my cock would explode.

I thrust deep and unleashed. Spurt-spurt. Her pussy milked every drop, squeeze-squeeze, not letting any escape.

Her body spasmed and collapsed onto me. Tits squished against my chest. Soft and yielding.

Third round. I laid Marisa on her side and spooned her from behind. Perfect for whispering in her ear and groping her tits. Two birds, one stone.

"Marisa."

"Mm..."

"You're not alone."

Her body shivered. Hard to tell where the magic ended and sincerity began—even for me.

I slid my cock in slowly from behind. Squish. The angle scraped different walls of her pussy.

"Hiat...!"

"Prefer this side?"

"D-don't know... all of it feels good... haang..."

Marisa guided my hand to her tits. I squeezed them while thrusting from behind. Picked up speed. Slap-slap-slap. Squish-squish-squish!

"Do-hyun... haa... more..."

She gripped my hand tight. Fingers interlaced.

"Together... cum together..."

"Yes..."

Her body tensed then shuddered loose. Mine too, in sync. The world went white. Spurt-spurt. Her pussy convulsed madly, wringing out my cum.

After the third, Marisa was utterly melted. Limp in my arms, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes half-lidded and unfocused. A satisfied smile on her lips.

We lay in silence for a while. Outside, distant night watch footsteps: clack, clack, clack. They faded, and the room fell quiet again. The candle had burned low.

Could've ended here. But my cock wasn't fully spent. Three loads, yet her milf skin pressed against me kept it stirring. And the psychologist in my head wasn't done.

Now's the time. Whisper experiment.

Lv.1 Whisper's limits were clear: couldn't create new desires. Only amplified existing emotions. Shame down, affection up. But degree mattered—subtlety made the difference.

Hypothesis: Right after three orgasms, defenses loose, strip away shame with Whisper—how far could the milf go?

"Marisa."

"...Mm?"

"Stay like this a moment?"

I sat her on the bed's edge. Stood facing her. Our eyes level, her gaze hit my cock. Still half-hard at 22cm post-three loads.

"Oh my..."

She averted her eyes, biting her lip slightly. A forty-year-old milf shyly dodging a grown man's cock after three rounds. Impressive she could still blush.

"Marisa. Can you wrap your tits around it?"

"W-with my... breasts...?"

Hesitation, as expected. Now.

A soft haze. Post-orgasm oxytocin dulled critical thinking. Marisa's expression shifted subtly. Tension eased from her shoulders.

"...Like this?"

She tentatively lifted her massive tits with both hands. They jiggled heavily in her palms. The sight fully hardened my cock.

"Yes. Just cover it from above."

"...Ah, okay..."

Hesitantly, she enveloped my cock between her tits. Squish. Oh. Neither pussy nor mouth—this was unique. Warm, soft, heavy pressure from both sides. My cock vanished completely.

"Can you squeeze them and rub up and down?"

"L-like... this...?"

She began moving her torso slightly. Squish-squish. Slosh. Her soft tits stroked my shaft.

This was cheating. Pussy sucked you in; tits hugged you tight.

"Is this... right?"

"Perfect. The best."

"It's embarrassing, but... strangely, I don't hate it..."

She found her rhythm. Hesitation gone, actively working her tits. Squish, slosh, squish.

I knew what "strange" meant. Not as shameful as she'd thought. Cognitive dissonance. When ideals clashed with experience, the brain rewired ideals to match.

"Marisa, I'm close."

"...Okay."

"On your face okay?"

She hesitated. Lips quivered. Eyes wavered.

"...Yes. It's fine."

Passed. Those four words meant one layer of shame crumbled.

Pulled out from her tits—spurt-spurt. Thick cum splattered her chin and neck. One strand hit her lips, another dripped between her tits.

She didn't close her eyes. Lips parted slightly, accepting it on her face. Her gaze held no disgust. Bewilderment, curiosity, faint shame—and strange pleasure.

Cautiously, she wiped cum from her lips with a finger. Stared at it, then slowly brought it to her mouth.

Oh? I hadn't asked for that. Under Whisper, her brain deemed it "fine," curiosity slipped through, leading to voluntary action. Unexpected.

Remove obstacles, and she moves herself.

"The taste... better than I thought..."

"How is it?"

"...Not bad. Strange..."

Her face flushed. But she didn't spit.

I gently wiped her face with the bedside towel.

"You okay?"

"...Strange. Not bad. Strange..."

Mismatch between self-image and actions. Time would resolve it. Next time, she'd converge on "I can do this too."

Step by step.

I laid Marisa back and lay beside her.

"Do-hyun..."

"Yes."

"Can I stay like this? Just a bit longer?"

"Of course."

She turned to face me in my arms. Moist eyes gazed up. Post-sex milf eyes: satisfaction, relief, affection blended.

"...You'll come again, right?"

"Promise."

This was sincere. No way I'd abandon that pussy.

Marisa smiled contentedly and nestled into my chest. Warm breaths came steady.

"Do-hyun... thank you... really..."

Her voice faded into sleep.

I gently brushed her sleeping hair. Peaceful face. Smile lingering, laugh lines softened. Her most restful sleep in five years.

A soft haze. Subconscious more vulnerable than conscious. Sleep lowered defenses; suggestion imprinted deep.

I dressed quietly. The portrait on the wall caught my eye—happy Marisa and husband. Sorry. Your wife's pussy was too good.

Skipped analysis to keep the mood. Two moons hung outside. A foothold in the capital now. Adventurers and merchants crossed here—info hub. Owner on my side. Pussy too.

Tomorrow: audience with the Queen. King looked gaunt, sickly. No normal marriage there. Queen probably lonely like Marisa.

But different loneliness. Peak of power: can't trust anyone, can't show weakness. Deeper, more dangerous.

And that pussy would clench even tighter, I sensed. My lips curved up.

At dawn, I slipped out quietly back to the palace. Cold morning breeze as I opened the door. Milf pussy warmth lingered.

Palace shadow silhouetted against dawn sky. Queen sleeping inside. Embracing her lonely pussy.

This world's nights are long. Tomorrow's the real start.