Chapter 791 - 790 - Fucking the Headmistress of Academy

Chapter 791: Chapter 790 - Fucking the Headmistress of Academy

I pushed.

The head of my cock pressed against her entrance. The resistance was immediate — her pussy was virgin-tight, the walls clenching, the entrance barely yielding. I could feel every detail — the soft, slick texture of her inner lips, the heat radiating from her core, the rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat through the flesh. Her body trembled. Her fingers dug deeper into my shoulders.

She was seated — hips tilted back, her weight on her palms, her legs spread wide. The position gave me a clear view of everything — her face, her breasts, her belly, her pussy. The ink notation covered her skin, the formula spiraling across her body like a living spell.

I pushed deeper. The head squeezed in. The entrance stretched — slowly, painfully — the lips pulling taut around my girth. She cried out. Her head fell back. Her hands gripped my shoulders so hard that her nails broke skin.

"Ah — it hurts — sir — it’s too big—"

I pushed further. Two inches. Three. The walls parted around me — hot, slick, impossibly tight. The friction was devastating. Every ridge, every fold of her untouched interior dragged against my cock, the sensation running up my spine like electricity.

"It hurts — please — HNNGH~!! — it’s — it’s stretching me —"

Four inches. Five. I could feel her hymen — the thin barrier, stretched taut, about to break. Her body was rigid. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Her pussy was clenching — the muscles contracting involuntarily, trying to push me out, trying to pull me in.

I kissed her.

My lips found hers. She tasted like tea and desperation. My tongue pushed into her mouth — and she responded. Slowly at first. Then with increasing urgency. Her tongue found mine. Her hands moved from my shoulders to my neck. Her body softened.

"Come on, wife," I murmured against her lips. "Love your husband."

She pulled back. Her eyes — wet, wide, confused — searched my face. "I don’t know how."

"Hug me."

Her legs locked around my waist. Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her body pressed against mine — her breasts, her belly, her ink-covered skin. She held me like a woman clinging to a cliff edge.

I slammed.

The hymen tore. My cock drove through — past the barrier, past the resistance, into the hot, tight, untouched depths beyond. Seven inches in one thrust. Her body seized — her back arching, her legs tightening, her nails raking down my back. She screamed.

"AAANGH~!!"

Her tongue came out. Her eyes rolled. Tears streamed down her temples, into her hair, onto the pillow. Her mouth was open — wide, wet, the sound coming from deep in her chest.

I held there. Seven inches deep. Three inches still outside. Her pussy was gripping me — crushing force, the walls clenching in rapid, panicked pulses. I could feel her heartbeat through her cunt — fast, thudding, rabbit-quick.

I leaned down. Found her breast. Took the nipple in my mouth. Sucked.

"Ah — HAA — what — HNNGH~!!"

Milk hit my tongue. Sweet. Warm. Thick. She was lactating — the stimulation, the pheromones, the overwhelming cascade of sensation triggering her body’s nurturing response. I swallowed. Sucked harder. Pulled the nipple between my teeth.

"For a beautiful wife I got," I murmured against her breast.

She cried. The tears fell harder. Her body — impaled on my cock, her nipple in my mouth, her arms around my neck — shook with sobs.

"It hurts," she whispered. "It hurts — it hurts so much —"

I started to move.

Slowly. Deliberately. My hips pulled back — three inches out — and pushed forward. The thrust was gentle but firm. My cock slid through her tightness, the walls dragging along my shaft, the friction building.

Pah.

She cried out. "Ah — it hurts — HNNGH~!!"

Pah.

"It feels — OUNGH~!! — so strange — AH~!! — it’s — HAAANGH~!! — I can’t —"

Pah. Pah. Pah.

Each thrust was measured. Controlled. I wasn’t fucking her — not yet. I was opening her. Stretching her. Making her body accept me inch by inch. Her pussy was impossibly tight — the walls gripping, the muscles resisting, but slowly, gradually, yielding.

I sucked her other breast. The milk flowed — thinner on this side, the letdown slower. I pulled the nipple deep, my tongue swirling around the stiffened peak.

"Tell me about the theory I told you," I said. Against her nipple. My breath hot on her wet skin.

She blinked. The academic reflex fired — the part of her brain that couldn’t resist a question, that couldn’t let a formula go unanswered. Even now. Even here. Even with my cock seven inches deep in her freshly deflowered pussy.

"The — the resonance — HAAANGH~!! — the resonance harmonic — OUNGH~!! — requires a — AH~!! — a containment matrix — HNNGH~!! — of at least — HIEEENGH~!! — tier four complexity —"

Pah. Pah. Pah.

"The — the soul substrate — OUNGH~!! — must match — AH~!! — the resonance frequency — HAAANGH~!! — of the original — HNNGH~!! —"

I grabbed her hands. Pinned them above her head. My arms pressed against her breasts — smashing them flat, the nipples stiff against my skin. I fucked her harder.

Pah Pah Pah Pah PAH!

"The — OUNGH~!! — the distributed — HAAANGH~!! — network — AH~!! — each practitioner — HIEEENGH~!! — contributes a fragment — OUNGH~!! — of their magical — HAAANGH~!! — signature — AH~!!"

Her voice was breaking. The theories — the formulas she’d memorized, the concepts she’d spent hours discussing — came out in fragments, shattered by each thrust, each impact, each wave of sensation. She was crying and reciting and moaning all at once, her body and mind pulled in three directions simultaneously.

’Her body is responding. Her mind is fighting. I’m going to make her forget everything except my cock.’

I released her hands. Grabbed her hips. Flipped her.

She gasped — the sudden movement disorienting her, her face pressing into the pillow, her ass rising. I pulled her up by her hips — her thick, wide hips, the ink notation visible across the pale skin. Her ass — round, full, soft — presented itself.

I slammed back in.

Pah Pah PAH!

"AAANGH~!! — the — the containment — HAAANGH~!! — matrix must — OUNGH~!! — account for — AH~!! — spiritual decay — HIEEENGH~!!"

She was still reciting. Still trying. The academic brain — the part of her that had defined her entire life — refused to surrender. Even as I fucked her from behind, even as her pussy clenched and squirted, even as her body convulsed with orgasms she couldn’t control.

Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah PAAAH!

"YES — OUNGH~!! — the harmonic — HAAANGH~!! — attracts the core — AH~!! — not the warmth — HIEEENGH~!! — the core — OUNGH~!! — the cognitive — HAAANGH~!! — framework — AH~!!"

I fucked her for three hours.

I changed positions. From behind — face in the pillow, ass in the air, her thick body shaking with each impact.

To the side — one leg up, the angle different, hitting new depths. Against the window — her back pressed against the frosted glass, her breasts flattened against the cold surface, her face visible to anyone in the garden below.

The servants — I could see them through the glass, pretending not to look, their faces red, their eyes wide. Vespera’s face — contorted with pleasure, her glasses gone, her mouth open, her tongue out — was pressed against the glass. Her breath fogged the surface. Her tears left streaks.

I moved her to the mirror. The full-length mirror beside the wardrobe. I held her against it — her back to my chest, her legs spread, my cock pistoning into her from below.

She could see everything.