Chapter 161
Barasia slurped away greedily at my cock, the lewd, wet sounds filling the tent. I gazed down at her with a blank expression, watching her work. Even as she did, her hand cradled my balls, squeezing and stroking them gently to coax out every last drop. Her focus was entirely on milking me dry, and I stared at her in disbelief. The sensation was indescribably good, but it felt oddly like I was a cow being forcibly drained of milk.
Huh? That's when I noticed a strange pattern creeping from the corner of Barasia's mouth as she sucked me off—toward her throat. It hadn't been there moments ago; some kind of special marking was spreading across her skin.
"Is that a tattoo?"
"...Yes. It's unique to our tribe."
She spat out my cock to answer, shooting me an irritated glare for interrupting her. It was a simple explanation, but I knew there was more to it. I'd almost forgotten, but then it hit me: the desert barbarians used these special tattoos of theirs to heighten sex. Memories from my past life came flooding back.
Hey, hero. The women of the desert tribes are something else. Sure, imperial ladies are beautiful, but our tribe's women are just as stunning. And they've got this special ability you'll never forget once you taste it. Why not tie the knot with my sister?
I stared at the glowing red tattoo, feeling a peculiar sensation. The more it flared brighter on her lips, the more intense the pleasure surging through me became.
Not lying after all.
I realized Barkan's words from my previous life were true, and my interest piqued. Digging deeper into my memories, I wondered if Barkan had been even more of a lightweight than I remembered. That's when Ghetto's old saying clicked: it's the finish that matters with people.
A jolt of pleasure shot through me as Barasia deepthroated my cock, my urge to cum building fast.
She froze. The moment she sensed it, her hand clamped down hard at the base of my shaft, and she pulled off completely. She couldn't let me cum down her throat if she wanted the full load, so she stopped midway. The interrupted pleasure soured into frustration, but my curiosity overrode it.
"...Shall we move to the bed?"
Her face flushed with the red tattoo blooming brighter, she asked me that. No doubt the markings hidden on her body were showing up elsewhere too. Intrigued by what else she had concealed, I nodded slowly.
Confirming my answer, Barasia rose and headed to the bed in the tent. She sat at the edge, spreading her legs into an M-shape, staring at me expectantly like she was waiting. It was a tempting pose, but her lower half was still covered by the desert tribe's traditional garb.
"Not taking off your clothes?"
I asked, puzzled, and she replied calmly.
"In our tribe, when a man takes a woman, he rips her bottoms off himself. It's our custom."
I glanced back at her lower body. Aside from what amounted to underwear, it was made of thin, translucent fabric that hugged her smooth legs perfectly. It looked so flimsy it'd tear with barely any effort. I chuckled. The desert tribe had some decent customs after all.
"Is that so? Then, excuse me."
I approached, grabbed her pants, and as expected, the thin cloth tore easily without resistance.
Riiip—riiip.
Like unwrapping a present, I shredded her pants, feeling a twisted thrill at the ruined fabric. The cloth covering her pussy was a slightly different material, but no match either. Staring at her fully exposed slit, I smirked lewdly. Between her desert-tanned skin peeked deep crimson folds, already soaked despite her obvious reluctance.
"Turned on, are we?"
I teased, pressing a finger to her dripping pussy. Barasia glared with wounded pride but said nothing.
Squelch—squelch.
As my fingers explored her soaked folds, wet sounds echoed. Like an oasis in the desert, her pussy grew even wetter, and at the same time, a red tattoo began emerging on her lower abdomen.
"Oh-ho, so this is the womb tattoo?"
I let out a short exclamation at the pattern on her belly. Centered just below her navel was a clear heart shape, from which geometric lines radiated outward.
"Hngh."
I flicked her swollen clit poking out above her drenched slit, and a lewd moan escaped her lips. No matter her pride, her body was honest. With skilled fingers, I targeted her clit, and the tattoo on her skin glowed even redder.
"Fascinating. Does it get redder the more aroused you are?"
"...Hah. I don't know... how you... hngh... know, but... I'm ready now, so... put it in... ahn!"
I grinned wickedly at Barasia begging for my cock. I was curious about the womb tattoo's function and how tight her pussy would feel, but my twisted nature wouldn't let me give her what she wanted so easily.
"Nah, not yet. I'm curious how red it can get."
"...Wha—hahk."
She bristled at my blunt refusal, but a single flick to her clit crushed her defiance. All she could do was clamp her thighs inward, trying to slow my fingers.
"Oh, it's even redder now. Fun."
I remarked as her thighs squeezed tight. Her strength was impressive, but no match for my hand. If anything, having something firm wedged between her legs seemed to excite her body more.
"Hah... hng!"
Biting her lower lip to stifle moans, her pride clearly stung. But her resistance only amused me more.
"Good on you for holding back. Let's see if this holds too."
Sneering at her suppressed whimpers, I slid my fingers lower. Past her throbbing clit, her entrance came into view. Just brushing it made her hips buck.
Acting all high and mighty, but this pussy's pathetically sensitive.
Seeing her cold glare even now made my cock throb. A haughty beauty with a weak, dripping cunt was inherently erotic.
Let's check inside...
Boom!
Just as I started easing a finger into her depths, a massive crash echoed from outside the tent.
"What the fuck, you crazy bastard?!"
Kamara's pissed-off voice followed. I instantly recognized it, sighed, and pulled my hand from Barasia's pussy.
"Can't even focus here."
I could've ignored her and kept tormenting Barasia, but I pulled my pants back on without regret. Things with Barasia weren't ending here anyway, and right now, my traveling companion Kamara took priority.
"Sorry, next time."
I told the dazed Barasia and slipped out of the tent. Heading toward the noise, I spotted Barkan getting his ass handed to him by Kamara—just like before.