Starting With Aunt, All Milf Are Mine

Chapter 1: Anothter World  

9:15 p.m.

A young man—probably in his twenties—sat hunched over his desk, dim blue light from the monitor washing over his weary face. Heavy bags sagged beneath his bloodshot eyes. His shoulders drooped like a man carrying years of debt rather than days.

"Erik, take these files too. You've got to complete it by tomorrow. See ya!"  

Another voice rang from behind—his manager, perhaps in his forties, already halfway out the office gate with his coat slung over one shoulder.

"There's still more left? I thought it was almost over!"  

"Yeah, it was. But the company changed a few things last minute… so… good luck!"  

The door slammed shut.

Erik groaned and slumped forward. "Aww man, not again…"

He rubbed his temples, then sighed. "Seven days straight… no breaks… no holidays… just back-to-back 12 to 16-hour shifts."  

The coffee had stopped working after Day 3.

He hadn't left the office in almost a week—sleeping on the small couch behind the desk, eating from vending machines when he remembered to, and showering at odd hours in the building's grimy washroom. His body felt like rusted machinery. His soul felt worse.

He was just a normal office worker—well, a severely overworked one. Still, when he graduated from college, he had a dream.

A very simple  dream.

"Get a job. Screw a few MILFs. Live a good life."

But now even that fantasy had burned out. Reality beat imagination until it cowered in a corner.

Inflation. Debt. Rent.

Bills stacked faster than paychecks, and he clung to the first company that hired him—blind to the warning signs, unaware it was a black company that fed on human hours like a vampire.

3:15 a.m.  

"Haaah… finally…"

He slumped back in his chair, the report finished. He blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused. "No dinner. Can't go out now—it's too late… too cold…"

He yawned. His body sagged forward, eyelids drooping.

And then—he fell.

Head hitting the desk with a thud.

But this time... the sleep didn't feel like collapse.

It felt like surrender. Like slipping into warm water, wrapped silk, mother's arms.

A comfort he hadn't known in years.

Then slowly but surely--

He heard sounds. First far. Then it seemed to be close. Too close.

As if someone was breathing just next to him.

Breathing.

Soft. Feminine.Right beside him.

His eyes opened softly. Only to find darkness all around him and a sense of breathing just near him.

But he couldn't focus on that now, since he was already puzzled by something.  

His mind felt clear. Clear as in he hadn't felt like this since the moment he had joined the company or even before that. A sense of clarity like none before. He inspected his body, only to find that his core was shaped like a greek god. Packs on it. His hands had muscles that felt like they could really do some manual work. And his chest? it was bigger than many ...ermm..(No offense)

Erik tried to jerk up but then he suddenly stopped.

He inspected first.

He was sleeping beside someone.

Someone that had a really nice scent. Like lavendar.

Then suddenly a jolt of pain rushed to his head-- he clutched his head. He wanted to cry, to writh but he didn't. He couldn't. The pain only remained for a few minutes.  

But then it subsided.

And with it; came the memories.

Visions flooded in—flashes of a quiet, awkward teenage boy named Mike. For years, he'd lived in another village with his adoptive parents till he was 13 —until his maternal aunt, Mira, sent a request: Come help at my tavern. I need someone reliable.  

Apparently, no one else would work for her. Especially not men.

Not because she was cruel, or abusive. No—a part of this had to because she was a MILF.

Not the kind celebrated in adult videos or locker-room fantasies. No, in this world, mature women—specially those with big busts and generous asses—were dismissed. Seen as not prefMiketial. Frowned upon. Ignored.

In this world, The prefMikece was a slim body with small tits and tight asses.

Since that looked more feminine to men here.

And so, Mira —36, his step-aunt, despite her curves and a big bust falling under it. Alongwith some strong hands that really looked like they can—Stroke some things and hips fuller than any he'd seen in his previous life was still unmarried, unwanted. Never experiencing any man. Or even their gazes towards her.

Even by her nephew.

But now— Mike smiled weakly looking at the ceiling.

That was only the case until now.

Since from today onward, he'd show his aunt everything that she'd never experinced. And he'd make her show everything that he'd never had—An experience of MIlfs—naked ones.

Mike laid back, heartbeat quickening.  

Her body was so close to him that he could feel the warmth radiating through the sheets.

Mira—his aunt was just less than an arm length away from him.

Just immediate next to him.

Still--not touching.

She faced away, breathing slow, chest gently rising and falling under her thin nightgown.

And thats when it hit Mike: She thinks I'm still the same disinterested boy she raised.  

Of course she did.

He never ogled her. Never reacted when her loose sarashi dipped too low, or when her areola peeked through the threadbare fabric. He never stared when she washed herself in the basin out back, or changed gowns in front of him, too exhausted to care.

But that's about to change.

Mike's fingers twitched.

Just once. Just to confirm what I already know.

He slid his hand forward, inch by inch under the blanket. Slowly, First, his hands bumped to the curve of her waist. Soft, warm, supple.  

She didn't move.

He observed.  

And then—

His hand trailed upward slowly but surely. Shoulder. Neck. Still nothing.

Then, he braced himself and slid his hand down along her ribs—lower, curving toward the side of her chest.

There.

Finally for the first time in his both lives. He touched.

Mira's breasts were immense—heavier and fuller than he'd ever imagined.  His hand couldn't even hold it fully; soft, plump flesh overflowed his fingers, warm and yielding. Mike squeezed gently, reveling in the voluptuousness.

His heart hammered. Alright, once more.  

He kneaded gently, fingers clutching, careful not to wake her—just enough to feel.

His hands sank into Mira's soft, milky breasts, and his pulse thundered harder. This isn't nearly enough.  

His other hand slid slowly past her waist, reaching for her second breast. Mira's breath hitched—he froze. She didn't wake.

Mike exhaled, relieved. Alright.  

He cupped both mounds now, supple flesh filling his palms. He squeezed—first tentative, then tighter, both hands working in rhythm. Mira's ragged breaths broke the silence, dull but heavy.

The intoxication of holding her this way spiked through him, dopamine rushing as he clutched harder. Still not enough.  

He pressed closer, chest spooning her back, his entire body sliding against hers. Heat melded them together. His shaft, already hard, pressed between the swell of her hips—smudging and grinding against her massive curves.

Chapter 2: Mike  and the Search For Nipples  

Mike ground against her—his cock pressed between the soft curves of her hips, the flesh welcoming him through the thin fabric with every slide. Pre-cum smeared across the barrier, leaking with each gentle thrust.

His mind spun, intoxicated by the sudden turn of events—by the sheer reality of it: a woman, a milf, right beside him… her breasts within reach, her warmth against him. He no longer cared if she woke.

His hands clutched tighter, kneading her breasts more aggressively now, the soft mounds filling his palms completely.

He released his grip and let his fingers wander—both hands exploring her chest, groping, feeling, searching. His pelvis kept its rhythm, grinding with need.

And then he felt it—

A stiff nub, fully perked, responding to all his movements.

Her nipple, hard and swollen.

A slow smirk curved his lips.

Found it.  

Until now, he'd only seen it on the internet—on certain sites, in private groups, or through the videos his friends sent him.

Clips of them mid-act, fucking their side chicks, moaning women under them—their phones capturing it all. They sent them to him not just to share, but to tease.

Look what I've got waiting for me after work.  

Meanwhile, Erik had no one. No woman to go home to.

While they fucked and played, he sat under cold fluorescent lights—buried in office work, juggling endless client meetings, late-night deadlines, and nothing but silence waiting for him at the end of the day.

But now?Now, a milf—a woman in her mid to late thirties—was right here, in front of him.

Her body, barely covered by that thin, loosely tied gown… no bra, no panties. Just glistening curves beneath the soft fabric. Her breasts full, her hips wide, the outline of her body visible through the faint shimmer of sweat and arousal soaking through.

And the feel of it all? The heat? The scent?

Erik was already drowning in it.

Breath caught in his throat, he brought his fingers closer—reaching out, trembling, ready to touch the very thing he'd only ever seen on screens.

That's it.  

Mike hovered his fingers over her breast—close, trembling—until, with a sudden, quiet breath, he closed the distance.

His fingers pinched her nipple—tight, deliberate.

A soft, muffled moan escaped Mira's lips.

Mike didn't notice.

But in the dim, shadow-drenched room, Mira's eyelids fluttered.

Then—jerked open.

A single tear slipped down her cheek—not from pain, but from the sharp rush of pleasure that cracked through her like lightning.

"What…?" she breathed—barely a whisper.

Her skin shivered in response.

The pressure on her back—the feel of Mike's cock pressed firmly against her hips—sent a sharp jolt up her spine. And her nipples…

They were being pulled—tugged gently, but firmly—and the sensation made her body flinch. She gasped, lips parting.

Glancing down, she saw his hands.

Mike was playing with her—touching her oh-so-lonely breasts…

Breasts that no one had ever touched, except her. Not like this.

"What are you doin… Mike…?"

She tried to say it—but the words wouldn't come out.

All she could do was feel.

The movements.The pressure.The unbearable pleasure rolling through her body.

Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes—quiet, uncontrollable—dripping down her cheeks from the sheer intensity.

Her gown, already loose and thin, had darkened between her thighs—soaked through, a patch of heat and wetness blooming. Her pussy quivered, already dripping with liquid.

Every shift of Mike's fingers… every grazing touch…

It made her quiver.Tremble.

Her body responding, even as her voice failed her.

Meanwhile, behind her, Mike let out a low, frustrated groan.

"Tch…"

His grip tightened onto her buds, as hips snapped forward—grinding harder, more forcefully against her haunches. The soft rub, the teasing contact… it wasn't enough anymore.

His breathing grew heavier, harsher.

"This won't do," he hissed, jaw clenched. "Not like this."

Chapter 3: Mike  and—Oh F*ck it!  

"This won't do," Mike hissed, jaw tight. "Not like this."

With one swift tug he yanked his pants down, his newly bound cock springing free—thick, veined, brimming with heat. A smirk cut across his lips as he slapped it down against Mira's hip.

"Eep!" A startled cry slipped from her, her body jolting.

Mike froze. Eh? Is she awake?  His thoughts flickered, uncertainty crawling in—just for a moment.

Then he grit his teeth. Oh, fuck it.  

He tugged hard on her nipples, pinching them high into the air until her breasts lifted from her chest. Mira's lips parted, gasps tearing free, her breath breaking in ragged bursts she could no longer contain."

Each pull, each wild twist of his fingers sent Mira dripping harder into her own gown. Her body betrayed her—heat seeping through fabric, staining.

Mike drew his hips back, leaving her trembling around the sudden emptiness. Mira's eyes snapped open, wide and wanting.

He didn't make her wait.

Smack!  

The sharp clap of flesh on flesh cut the air. Mira gasped, the sound shattering from her lips.

This…  she couldn't shape the words, but every strike of his thick shaft across her bouncing hips left her faltering, desperate. Each smack dragged another gasp, another shudder, her body begging for more even when her voice failed her.

Her eyes screamed for more—need burning, locked on her own nipples, tugged and twisted in Mike's grip. Each pull and push was wild, frenzied—like he meant to milk her dry, like he'd tear them off if he didn't stop. Her breasts trembled as though any harder and they'd be left hollow.

Mike pressed harder into her back, cock grinding along her gown. Schk… schk…  The fabric rasped against his shaft, sliding slick as his precum smeared through the cloth.

"Not enough," he groaned, jaw tight, hips jerking harder. The tease only clawed at his nerves, made his cock ache with fury. He pulled his hips back, breath hissing through clenched teeth.

"This'll do."

Mike slammed forward—sudden, hard—his cock sliding between Mira's thighs. She yelped, hips jolting as the fat of her slick skin gave way, molding around his shaft. Trapped tight in that heated press, his length dragged rough through her arousal-slickened flesh.

"Yeeaahh…" he groaned, eyes rolling back, hips jerking in wild, frantic humps. Each thrust ground harder, desperate, like he'd lose himself if he slowed even for a second. "This'll… do."

One hand still twisted around her nipple, tugging and pulling, but the other lifted—fingers gliding upward until they pressed against her lips, damp with his own sweat and her heat. His breath rasped against her ear, steady and demanding.

His finger slid through the sweaty, slippery valley of her cleavage, tracing up her throat until it found her chin. Her skin glistened, heat clinging to every inch as he pressed on—up to her mouth, lips already smeared with her own saliva. He pushed deeper, rough, brushing past her lips as her muffled moans spilled free.

More fingers followed, prying in, scooping up the flood of spit she secreted. Strings of it clung to him as he dragged his hand down, coating his cock—still trapped hard between her thighs. He stroked the shaft with that messy shine, slickening it from root to tip until it gleamed. But even drenched in spit and sweat, it wasn't enough—the wetness mixed only halfway down, lost between her gown and the fat of her thighs.

"Nggh…" Mike groaned, jaw clenched.

"Tch. What a bitch."

His free hand clutched at her gown near her thighs. Mira's eyes squeezed shut, her breath catching. No… not that. Please, not now…  Her thoughts begged, prayed silently.

But Mike wasn't listening—he couldn't hear her panic, only his own pulse roaring. His fist tightened, yanking the fabric hard. At the same time his other hand tugged mercilessly on her nipple, pulling her breast high into the air.

The gown rose—fast, sudden—bunched in his grip as Mira's lips broke open in a low, helpless moan.

Mike glanced down at her face."Awake?" he muttered.

Mira didn't answer. Her eyes stayed shut tight, breath ragged—but her lips remained sealed.

Mike smirked."Doesn't matter."

His gaze drifted down. Her thighs were already slick—shining with the damp heat of her own arousal. Drenched, in fact. He lifted the gown higher, slow and steady, until it reached her waist.

And there it was.

Nestled tight between her thighs—soft, flushed, and glistening—her lips were clenched together, sealed in heat and slickness.

Mike pulled back for a moment, his breath catching as desire flared in his chest.

Then he moved.

One hand slid beneath her thigh. He hooked his arm around her leg, gripping firm. Mira squirmed, tensed—trying to resist, to clamp shut—but it didn't matter. Mike pried her leg aside, slow but unstoppable.

His gaze dropped again.

And there—fully exposed, framed by flushed skin and trembling tension—was her pussy.

Pink. Soaked.

Juices clung to her folds, glistening as they dripped freely down the inside of her thighs. Even the sheets beneath her were darkened with the mess of her arousal, heat rising off her like a furnace.

Mike exhaled—low, dark, hungry.

Mike grinned.

His hand slid forward, down between her thighs… right to the soft patch of hair crowning her slick heat. Without hesitation, he gripped it—fingers bunching into the tuft, locking tight.

His gaze flicked to Mira.

Then—he pulled.

Hard.

Her body jolted. Her back arched, hips lurching as a cry tore from her lips. The sudden tug sent a shudder through her spine, and in the next breath—

Splat.

A wet burst sputtered from her pussy, squirting out in a sudden, messy release. Her slick shot out, warm and frantic, drenching his hand and the sheets beneath.

Mike didn't flinch.

He pressed his palm flat against her pussy, rubbing into the gush—slow, firm circles—spreading it, smearing it, coaxing even more out with every grind.

Mira gasped—legs trembling, breath caught in her throat.

Mike leaned down, voice low but razor-sharp:"Awake, are we? Or just playing with me?"

Chapter 4: Mira and -- This.. This is Too Much Mike  

"No matter."

Mike gripped her curly hair down there with both hands, bunching thick strands into his fists. Some slipped through, some tore free, but most held firm.

His voice was calm—almost teasing."We'll see if you're awake or not."

Then, softer… a glint in his eye, lips curling as he murmured:"Aunt Mira."

He yanked.

Hard.

Mira's whole body spasmed—her fingers twitched, jerking upward as her spine arched violently.

Splat.  

She sprayed again, a hard stream gushing from between her thighs, drenching the sheets below. The scent of her arousal filled the room—thick, musky, raw.

Her hands flew to her head, clawing at her own hair, mirroring his grip. Her gasps turned into cries—eyes still shut tight, but her mouth was wide open, desperate for air… and unable to hold back the scream.

A choked yell tore out of her—half-moan, half-shock—her entire body unraveling under him.

Mike grinned."Awake."

He leaned in, head tilting, mouth already parted. Then—without hesitation—he crashed into her.

Lips met lips.

His mouth pressed hard against hers, sealing her gasp, swallowing her moan. One hand yanked on the curly hair between her thighs, the other gripping her waist as he kissed her—deep, raw, tasting the slick heat of her breath. Lavender clung to her skin, flooding his senses, intoxicating.

He couldn't get enough.

His body followed—his cock grinding firm against her bare waist. Skin to skin. The thick shaft dragged across her belly in slow, aching strokes, smearing pre-cum with every rub.

Each pull of her hair… each roll of his hips… every push of his tongue into her mouth fueled the rhythm.

He didn't stop.

Didn't pause.

His mouth devoured her—hard, tight, filled with years of pent-up hunger. His cock slid slick along her stomach, coating her with his arousal, spreading the mess across her skin in heavy, wet strokes.

All the lust he'd buried—carried from that past life, from another world—poured into this moment.

Mike pulled back, lips wet with her taste. His hands slid down, clutching her waist in a strangling grip as he growled—

"This isn't enough," he muttered, voice hoarse. "Nothing feels like it could ever satiate me now."

His fists caught her gown, still bunched at her waist. With one sharp tug, he dragged the fabric upward—over her breasts, up her throat, past her neck—until it spilled free.

Mira lay bare beneath the cool air of the room.

Mike's eyes burned as they roamed.

Her breasts—large, full, heavy with flesh—hung softly to the sides, trembling with each shaky breath. He pushed them up in his palms, squeezing until they spilled between his fingers. Mira quivered beneath his touch, her body jerking with every rough graze.

"You'll get something today," he murmured darkly, leaning closer, "something you never had before."

Mira's eyes fluttered open at last—meeting his. Wide, wet, trembling.

She watched as he lowered himself, mouth trailing down. His lips closed over her nipple, tongue hot and wet as it flicked, circled, sucked.

Her breath shattered into a gasp. Her voice broke, quivering, weak—"This… this is too much, Mike…"

Chapter 5: Mike  and--Dam! The Clit's too easy to Find  

"This is too much, Mike…" Mira whimpered.

But he didn't listen.

Mike leaned in, breath warm against her skin. With a slow flick of his tongue, he traced lazy circles around her nipple—teasing, tasting. Then—without warning—he latched on, tugging tight with his teeth.

Mira jolted, back arching high, a sharp cry ripping from her throat.

Each flick sent tremors through her body, but the pull—raw and needy—made her convulse. It was wild. Desperate. Like a starved child who'd finally found milk after days of thirst. He sucked with abandon, no pause, no mercy.

Mira cried out again, voice cracked and wet.

"Th-This… This is the first time…"

Her eyes welled up—tears not from pain, but sheer, overwhelming pleasure. Her breath shivered as her chest rose and fell beneath him.

Mike's other hand slid to her second breast—the one untouched, neglected, its nipple left stiff and trembling in the open air. Bound by the pressure of her pinned form, it stood perked, vulnerable—almost pleading.

Mike lifted her other nipple between his fingers, rolling it slowly—deliberately—as he brought it to his lips.

Mira trembled, the tension in her body rising, breath caught in anticipation.

Then, with a slick sweep of his tongue, he coated both nipples—wet, warm, deliberate—before drawing them in together.

A frantic pull.

He took both into his mouth, sucking them in hard, lips sealed tight, teeth clamping down with just enough force to make her cry out.

Mira jolted. Her back arched again, hips twitching as her breath spilled out in ragged bursts—desperate and unrestrained.

Through clenched teeth, still pulling on her breasts—now stretched taut and trembling in his mouth like udders being milked—Mike growled,

"These breasts… they've been too lonely until now."

He pulled tighter. Mira gasped—voice caught halfway between a moan and a sob.

"Let me take the straightforward route…" he muttered, voice low, wicked.

His free hand trailed down her belly, palm dragging across her sweat-slicked skin. Every inch sent a new wave of stimulation through her.

Fingertips pressed hard into her waist—searching. Slow. Determined. He traced along the folds of her skin, the heat radiating off her body like fire.

And then—he found it.

The small fold just above.

He parted it softly with his fingers, revealing the swollen, sensitive nub beneath. Her clit—trembling, flushed, soaked with arousal.

Mike smiled.

He brushed it.

Once.

Mira gasped. The sound split through the air as her body convulsed, hips jerking. For her—it was the first time. The first time a man had touched her there. And of all men—her own nephew (step-nephew). Something she never could have imagined, never thought possible.

Her waist pressed up against Mike's crotch instinctively, grinding her belly against the hard bulge of his cock. Convulsions racked her body, her breath breaking into sharp hitches as uncontrollable streams of wetness poured from deep inside her.

Mike leaned down, whispering against her ear."Looks like I found a sensitive point."

With that, he finally let go of her breasts. They fell heavy, slapping back against her chest with a wet bounce. Mira's head tilted, her eyes wide, dazed—already spent, undone in mere minutes.

Mike only smiled. Wide. Hungry.

His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, voice laced with dark promise:"It's only started… You'll do well to endure it all—every drop of my pent-up emotions."

He slid lower, knees sinking into the sheets, his face descending toward her heat. Mira's curls shielded the view, damp and tangled with her own wetness.

Mike's fingers parted them—slow, deliberate—revealing the soft folds beneath.

Dripping.Pink.Quivering with need.

His eyes flicked upward. Mira's lips were pressed tight together, her breath held as if the slightest sound would break her restraint. Anticipation trembled through her body, every muscle taut.

Mike chuckled under his breath."Heh."

He lowered himself, his breath washing hot against her most sensitive spot. His tongue slipped out—slow, deliberate—hovering for just a second.

Mira's hands clutched at her chest, squeezing her own breasts, head lifting, eyes locked on him in disbelief. She couldn't look away. She didn't dare.

Then—contact.

A single flick.

His tongue brushed her entrance, light, teasing, but enough to send a jolt through her. Mira gasped, her hips twitching, thighs quivering.

"Sss…"

A sharp hiss slipped from Mira's lips as her elbows dug into the sheets, holding her weight. Her head rolled back, eyes locked on the ceiling above as the sensations from below surged through her in waves.

She tried to hold it in—lips sealed tight, body trembling—but her restraint was already beginning to crack.

And then Mike pulled back.

Just for a moment.

"This'll take too long," he muttered, voice edged with hunger.

Then—he lunged.

His head pressed forward, fast and hard, burying into her crotch. His mouth sealed over her folds, and then—

A bite.

Not cruel, but firm. Intentional.

His teeth sank gently into the soft lips of her pussy, pressure building, locking against her entrance.

Mira broke.

"Aaanghhh!"

The cry tore out of her, loud and raw, her back arching as her hands shot down toward his head—uncertain whether to pull him away or push him deeper. Her legs kicked once, then trembled violently as the shock of the bite sent a flare of burning pleasure straight up her spine.

She collapsed into the sheets, only to push herself up again—fists clenching tight into the fabric near her head.

Moans spilled from her lips—deliberate, strained, soaked in pleasure—as her waist lifted, hips rolling back.

But Mike didn't give her the chance.

He followed.

Driven. Frantic. Obsessive.

His eyes burned with a hunger that refused to let her go—not even for a second.

He shoved her thighs apart—palms pressed down hard, holding her wide open—as he lunged again.

This time—he bit.

Tight.

Hungry.

His teeth sank into her folds, not cruelly—but like a beast feeding on something long denied. Mira screamed, the sound echoing through the tavern walls.

And then—his tongue shoved inside.

Wet. Wild. Deep.

Mira's voice shattered into pure sound, hands flying from the sheets to his head—clutching at his damp hair with both fists. Her eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with unfiltered ecstasy.

She pressed him harder against her.

Her hips rolled—gushing.

Each convulsion inside her sent waves of hot, sweet liquid pouring out, and she made sure Mike swallowed every drop. She ground her soaked cunt into his mouth, forcing his lips to seal, to gulp, to drown in her.

Her thighs quivered. Her breath broke. Her hands trembled in his hair.

And still—he didn't stop.

Chapter 6: Dam I Broke in!  

Mike's mouth stayed wide, swallowing greedily as Mira clutched his hair, knuckles white. He let her hold him there—let her grind, root, and force every drop against his lips.

Her body shook violently, thighs quivering around his head as convulsions wracked her. The spurt wouldn't stop—longer, harder, wetter than anything she had ever pulled from herself before. She drowned him in it, and he drank it all.

Minutes blurred into heat and wetness.

Finally, Mira's body gave out. With a sharp, desperate yank of his hair, she tore him away, collapsing flat onto her back. Her chest heaved, breasts bouncing as she dragged in air—deep, ragged, hungry gasps that burned down her throat.

But before her lungs could even settle—

Mike moved.

He didn't let her recover.

He pushed forward—two fingers sliding deep into Mira's tight, quivering pussy.

The sudden stretch made her gasp, mouth gaping as a moan broke free, high and desperate.

Mike leaned over her, his free hand rising to her chest. He caught both nipples between his fingers, binding them together, twisting them, rolling them hard beneath his grip—before giving a sharp, curling pull.

"Aaaannghhhh!"

Mira's cry tore out of her, back arching so high it nearly left the sheets. Her body convulsed around his fingers, soaking them in wet heat.

Mike only smiled.

"You're not the one who'll take the lead now," he growled, voice thick with dominance.

He straightened, pulling away just long enough to strip his shirt over his head, then shove down his trousers.

And there it was.

The cock that had been grinding against her, smearing her waist with his scent—finally bared to the open air.

Thick. Veined. Muscular.

It stood tall, heavy, dripping, the sheer size of it enough to make Mira's breath catch in her throat.

Her eyes widened, trembling at the sight—yet her body shivered in raw anticipation.

Mira gasped, breath sharp and shaky, as Mike stepped closer—standing tall between her spread legs.

He reached down, guiding her thighs apart further, opening her completely before bending low.

His hips pressed in, and the bare, sensitive tip of his cock slid along her soaked entrance—rubbing slow, deliberate, agonizing.

Mike hissed under his breath, the heat of her body wrapping around him even without full entry.

Mira's eyes fluttered open—half-lidded, dazed. Her breath stuttered, caught between dread and longing. The anticipation crashed over her like a wave—pleasure mingling with shock, her mind struggling to grasp it all.

"You… You're too much…" she whimpered."This… this isn't acceptable. Not with your own aunt…"

Her voice trembled, a weak attempt at morality—something fragile, breaking apart beneath the weight of her own desire.

Mike only smiled.

He leaned forward, his face hovering inches from hers, heat radiating between them.

His hand moved low again—fingers slipping down to her clit.

A slow, twisting tease.

Circular. Deep. Cruel.

Mira's breath hitched—her body reacting before her mind could resist.

She only moaned in reply, her body betraying her silence.

Mike's lips twisted as he murmured, voice sharp with mockery, "Morality? Step-nephew?"

He slapped his cock against her soaked entrance—each smack sending a wet clap into the air, each one forcing another helpless gasp from her lips.

"Where did it go," he pressed, rubbing the swollen slit with the thick head, "when you were grinding my head against yourself like this?"

Mira's eyes flicked sideways, muffled sounds slipping between clenched teeth. She didn't answer.

"Don't start with morality now," Mike whispered, leaning in close, hips hovering over her spread body. His breath brushed her ear as he aligned himself, the head pushing insistently at her folds. "It will get you nowhere."

Her lips stayed sealed—tight, trembling, her eyes glassy with anticipation she refused to admit.

Mike smirked, voice dropping into a hushed growl as he brought his mouth close to her ear."You just sit back… and enjoy this."

Mike parted his mouth, teeth sinking into the curve of Mira's neck. At the same instant, he thrust in—hard, relentless.

Her pussy, unprepared for his full length, clenched desperately, stretched wider than anything she had ever felt, forced to mold around him inch by inch—still taking in only half.

Mira's body buckled. Her voice tore free in a shattering cry,"Kyaaaahhh!!!"

The sound reverberated through the room, echoing against the walls, bleeding past into the night air outside.

Chapter 7: Cervix Hitman  

Mira's pussy, unprepared for his full length, clenched desperately, stretched wider than anything she had ever felt, forced to mold around him inch by inch—still taking in only half.

Mira's body buckled. Her voice tore free in a shattering cry,"Kyaaaahhh!!!"

"Don't cry on me now," Mike muttered, feeling only half his length swallowed by her trembling pussy.

I'll mold it,  he promised himself.

He drew back slowly—her pussy clinging desperately, hooked tight around the ridge of his tip, refusing to let him go.

Mike smirked. He had no plans to stop.

With a brutal snap of his hips, he drove forward, slamming deeper, smashing against her cervix as more of his cock forced its way inside—stretching her further, filling her more than she'd ever thought possible.

Mira yelped through her moan, "Nghhh—!" Her body glistened with sweat, eyes brimming with tears, hands clutching the sheets so hard her knuckles turned white—almost tearing through the fabric.

Mike withdrew, only to slam back in, harder, deeper.

Her cry broke louder this time, nose running, saliva spilling from her wide, trembling mouth—yet she didn't care. She couldn't.

Each thrust pressed her further into the mattress, her pussy clinging tight, tugging on him as if begging not to let go.

Mike only drove harder—every pull followed by a merciless push, every slam making her mind haze, every strike numbing her thoughts until all that remained was the raw rhythm pounding her into submission.

Mira only yelped. Mike didn't care.

Right now, he had only one thought driving him— push her harder, make her go numb, and above all… mold her pussy to his shape.  So that every time he entered— whenever  he entered—her body would remember, her pussy carved to fit him alone.

His hand slid forward. More pleasure means more stretch.