"Tell what Harold calls you in bed," he hissed.
lissa's walls clamped down on him like a fist milking him with the rhythm of her sha.
"He… he calls 'honey,'" she whimpered. "He calls 'baby.' He calls his good little wife while he lasts thirty seconds inside ."
"And what am I calling you right now?"
She broke completely, beautifully, eternally.
"You're calling Aunt lissa while you fuck raw," she sobbed, voice splintering into shards. "You're calling yours while you rewrite my soul with your cock."
He slamd in so hard her knee buckled on the desk and her wedding ring scraped the wood with a screech.
"Again."
"I'm Aunt lissa and I belong to my nephew's cock now," she wailed, tears streaming. "I'm a disgusting, faithless, incestuous whore and I've never felt more alive because the boy I hurt is finally fucking the way I want and erasing what Harold has been writing in for years, fucking back in the only way that heals ."
Her orgasm hit like a seizure cunt spasming, squirting ssily around his pistoning shaft in violent, shaful arcs that soaked his balls, the floor, her own trembling thighs and the discarded photo fra of her and Harold on their wedding day.
She scread his na not nephew just his na, raw and reverent, like a prayer and a curse in one like absolution and damnation intertwined.
Phei didn't stop.
He fucked her through it, growling the truth into her ear with every thrust each word a nail in the coffin of who they were:
"This is what you were made for. Not his polite little missionary nights. My cock. My aunt's cunt was always ant to take her nephew's cum like communion."
lissa nodded frantically, babbling broken apologies and gratitude and decades of repressed desire, her ringed finger still rubbing frantic circles on her clit saring their mixed fluids over the symbol of her marriage.
When he finally ca, he buried himself as deep as humanly possible deeper than Harold had ever been, deeper than any man had ever deserved and unloaded with a snarl that sounded more animal than boy more god than human.
Pulse after pulse of thick, forbidden seed flooded her marking her womb with family blood, painting her walls white, claiming her in the most irreversible way possible breeding the aunt who'd once broken him.
He held her there, both of them shaking both of them reborn, until the last drop was wrung out of him and her cunt still fluttered around him in grateful, guilty aftershocks.
Then he leaned down again, lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice soft and deadly calm but shaking with the enormity of it.
"Every ti you sit at this desk from now on, Aunt lissa… every ti you look at that ring… every ti you feel an ache between your legs or a drip of wetness you can't explain… you're going to feel leaking out of you. And you're going to rember exactly who you belong to body, blood, and ruined soul."
She turned her tear-streaked face toward him, eyes shining with sothing beyond submission sothing ruined and reborn sothing that looked a lot like love wrapped in sin.
"Yes, Phei," she whispered, voice raw and trembling with truth. "I'm yours. Your aunt is yours. Forever."
And for the first ti in his life, the boy everyone called trash felt like the only god in the room and the aunt who'd make him feel worthless finally knelt at the altar she'd created.
He didn't give her ti to breathe.
With a snarl he yanked out of her (one long, wet, obscene drag that turned her cunt inside-out, pink inner walls clinging to his shaft in glossy, desperate sleeves) and flipped her onto her back across the desk. Papers exploded outward; the broken monitor crunched under her shoulders. He shoved her thighs apart so violently her knees slamd against the wood on either side, splitting her open like a sacrifice.
Moonlight poured over her: tits heaving, nipples black-cherry and wrecked, wedding ring glinting, cunt gaping and drooling a thick rope of their mixed fluids that pooled beneath her ass.
Phei climbed up after her, knees planted between her spread legs, and fisted his cock (angry purple, veins like cables, shining with her cream from root to flared crown). He slapped it down against her clit once, twice, three tis (heavy, wet thuds that made her whole body jerk and a broken scream rip from her throat).
Then he lined up and drove in.
One rciless thrust.
The fat head breached her with a wet pop, stretching her swollen entrance into a perfect, straining O that blanched white around his girth.
Her cunt fought for half a heartbeat still impossibly tight even after everything, then surrendered with a filthy, sucking glurk as he punched through the clutch of her walls and buried every inch in a single, brutal stroke.
Her back bowed off the desk, tits thrusting upward, a raw animal howl tearing loose as he bottod out, cockhead kissing her cervix so hard the impact jolted through her womb.
He didn't pause.
He pulled back slow, deliberate, cruel until just the crown stretched her open, until her inner lips dragged outward in glossy pink petals clinging to his shaft, until her entrance fluttered and gaped hungrily at the sudden emptiness.
A thick ring of cream coated his length, dripping off his balls in heavy strands.
Then he slamd ho again.
Harder.
The desk rocked violently beneath them. Her tits bounced so hard the soft flesh slapped her chin. Her asshole exposed and twitching with every thrust clenched rhythmically, winking open and closed like a second mouth begging for attention, slick with the overflow running down her crack.
Again. Again. Again.
Each thrust was a punishnt and a prayer: the wet, obscene sound of her cunt being read open schlick-schlick-SCHLICK filling the room, her walls gripping him so tight he had to fight his way back in every ti, her body jerking up the desk with the force until he hooked his arms under her knees and pinned her wide open.
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