Sleepy Princess 2
Her stifled, strained cries rose and fell with the rocking of her hips, the moans of a married woman pushed past her limits.
She looked as though she could no longer take the pleasure and stimulation flooding through her. Tendons stood out along her sweat-soaked thighs and firm calves, every limb locked tight with strain. When her legs kicked and thrashed as if trying to escape the oncoming waves of sensation, he seized both of her thighs hard enough for his fingers to sink deep into the flesh and drove his face in even deeper.
[slurp, lick, slurp. suck!!! schlurrrrp…!]
The wet sounds of him sucking and licking grew so vulgar they were almost unbelievable. She began to tremble violently, crying out from deep in her chest as though her guts—or her very soul—were being sucked out of her. Her back arched until it nearly touched the floor, every muscle taut, and her hips lifted higher still, as if desperate to flee.
His grip only tightened in answer, fingers gouging into the soft, dough-like flesh of her thighs as if to ask where exactly she thought she was going.
Rock. Rock. Rock.
Her head, which until now had been planted motionless against the floor, began to jerk and thrash. The tips of her fingers, hidden inside the mascot costume and invisible until now, quivered and shot upward; her dainty toes curled hard inward, going white with the force of it.
Still buried face-first between her legs as though he meant to crawl inside her, he lowered his head a fraction. Her hips were hiked so high in their attempt to escape that it was possible. His chin and mouth, previously lost in the soft flesh of her ass, came into view—and from between lips glistening with her fluids, a red tongue uncoiled.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The tip of that long, extended tongue writhed in the air and flicked playfully at what had to be her clit. She convulsed from head to toe at the rough tongue against that hypersensitive spot, spilling out broken, staccato screams.
Then the tongue that had been toying with her clit vanished back into his mouth.
A brief silence. That bone-chilling calm—the quiet before a storm—broke.
He stretched his mouth wide and covered the very place he had just been teasing, sealing his lips over her clit completely. And then—
[SCHLUUUUUURP!!!!]
Through the speakers came a crude, ravenous suction sound like a pump gulping water. Hard on its heels came her thin, near-screaming cry of pleasure.
Slap!
Her legs shot out across the floor in reaction to the unexpected assault, stretched long and straight—like a sprinter in the starting crouch, hips raised, legs extended. Even in that splayed posture, he followed without missing a beat, sucking hard on her clit as though he had anticipated every move.
The raw, vulgar noise of him devouring her clit poured from the speakers and sent a shiver through me. Her entire body locked so tight it looked as if her limbs might twist out of joint; she could hold on no longer. With a cry that was pure agony and ecstasy, she came.
Fwoooosh!!!
A fierce rush of fluid erupted from between her legs like a fountain bursting. The spray soaked the face pressed tight against her, cascading down in thick streams that pattered visibly onto the floor between her thighs. Even as it drowned him, his lung capacity seemed bottomless—he never stopped sucking her clit, taking the flood full in the face.
The married woman convulsed as if electrocuted by a pleasure she had never known in her life. Her waist and hips bucked madly, but his mouth and hands clung like glue and would not let go. Her fingers and toes writhed grotesquely, as though playing some invisible instrument.
The moment I saw that desperate, utterly vulgar figure of a married woman, my mind went blank white. Delusion ran so wild I almost believed I could see her mosaic-blurred face in perfect clarity.
"Ah—aah…! Aaaaah!!!"
My wife was being defiled by some nameless stranger. Not only me—without even knowing it herself, her most private places were being thoroughly explored, her clit sucked as if he meant to tear it off, a place I myself had barely ever put my mouth on.
And the most important thing of all was the thrill and the depravity of knowing that some man, somewhere, might be watching every second of this right now.
From my cock, which had been standing sky-high without my noticing, semen suddenly erupted.
"Ugh!!!"
Spurt. Spurt. Spurt.
I couldn't hold it. I came without meaning to. My toes curled, every muscle in my body clenched, and a dizzying pleasure so intense it made my lower back ache crashed through me. Through a vision blurred by tears or sweat—I couldn't tell which—I could still see my wife having her clit sucked.
She went limp all at once, like a puppet with its strings cut, as if she could endure no more. Stretched out straight, most of her body was hidden beneath the mascot costume sprawled across the floor. But the fragments of her I could still see, and the sucking sounds that continued to pour from the speakers without pause, never stopped.
[suck, slurp-slurp…schlurrrp, schlick…]
A wet, heavy noise continued, like a beast lapping water with its tongue. Each time it came, her legs—the only part of her body visible outside the costume—twitched and spasmed.
At last the man lifted his head from where it had been buried as if trying to crawl inside the costume. Even through the mosaic, his mouth glistened with every kind of fluid, the shine so vivid it seemed to cut through the blur.
[Hah…]
The deep satisfaction in that man's sigh made me feel, for a moment, as though my own unquenchable thirst had been sated too. My wife, collapsed face-down over the costume so that almost nothing of her showed, still trembled irregularly in her limbs as if steeped in the aftershocks of pleasure. Against the thick darkness, the pale steam rising off her body stood out in sharp relief, and it stirred in me an urge to peer into the wreckage inside that costume.
But that sordid spectacle cut off with a sudden snap, as if the video itself were claiming ownership of the scene.
"……"
My cock, still pumping semen in thick spurts inside my pants, howled that it was nowhere near satisfied. With bloodshot eyes I stared blankly at the computer monitor, then, as if possessed, bought and played the next video.
The videos that followed climbed in intensity like ascending a staircase. Same framing. Same people. Same situation.
But the beast kept throwing new experiments to his thirsty subscribers every day, like tossing meat to the starving. He raised the intensity step by step as if testing whether she would break yet—and it was nothing short of training.
The adult toy in his hand was a small vibrating device the size of a quail egg. He fixed several egg vibrators against her clit and shoved them into her pussy and her ass. Then he switched them on, as if deliberately stretching her open.
Bzzzzzz—
Ravaged by machines that never tired, my wife twisted her limbs, screamed, gushed, and climaxed—and still they never stopped. The video rolled on without mercy. At some point she no longer seemed to have the strength to cry out, or even the energy to thrash. The footage showed nothing but a limp slab of meat sprawled on the floor.
Video after video forced the threshold of pleasure her body could take higher and higher, training her step by step until the accumulated exhaustion and the wrongness of it all began to feel normal.
"Hah! Hah! Hah!"
I had been panting so hard my breath tasted sour, and my cock—still hard after pouring out so much for so long—had begun to hurt. Even with the mosaic over her face, the more I watched, the more twisted certainty took root: that woman was my wife.
No. It's definitely my wife.
My lust-soaked mind had already reached its conclusion, as if it had no other choice.
Only one video remained. The one that had first drawn me into this private adult channel—the one titled Finally Banged the Married Coworker I'd Been After Forever.
As the title made clear, every previous video had been nothing but training with fingers, mouth, toys, and every other bizarre method imaginable. He had never once put his cock inside her. Raising the intensity as if testing whether it was finally safe to fuck her for real, he had at last crushed the married woman's chastity underfoot—and uploaded the video to show it off.
"Hoo! Hoo!! Hoo!!!"
No matter how hard I breathed, it felt like climbing a high mountain with no oxygen left. My head spun. My vision blurred. I felt as though I were wandering through a dream. Even so, I drove myself on and hit play on the final video.