The worship of my thighs was intoxicating, but it was only the overture to the filthier hymn about to be sung. They could feel the molten need throbbing through me, a low, savage drumbeat pounding straight into their slick, aching cunts.

The air grew thick and heady, spiked with the heavy musk of my pheromones—a silent, brutal command that turned their panties into soaked ruins and made their clits throb like exposed nerves.

Sofia was the first to break. Her circular glassy, wet cute eyes locked on the massive, rigid column of my cock—veined, angry, and already dripping—jutting up from my groin like a weapon. With a broken, desperate whimper that sounded like surrender, she lunged forward.

Her first contact wasn't with her hands. It was her hot, worshipful mouth sealing over the swollen, leaking massive crown.

A single soft kiss, then her tongue swirled greedily, lapping up the fat bead of pre-cum like it was communion wine. The taste detonated inside her. Her eyes rolled back, a full-body shudder ripping through her as her untouched cunt spasmed and squirted a hot jet into her panties.

She moaned and sank down, stretching her pretty lips obscenely wide around my crown.

My only reaction was a sharp hiss as pure lightning shot up my spine. My hand settled on the back of her head—not guiding yet, just claiming.

The contact alone triggered another cruel orgasm; her throat fluttered around my cockhead as she came again, tears of overload streaking her cheeks, drool already spilling from the corners of her stretched mouth.

Madison, the queen, refused to be outdone. She watched for one predatory heartbeat, then descended. No asking, no waiting—she simply joined. Her plush, painted lips sealed against the thick veins running along the side of my shaft, right beside Sofia's frantically bobbing mouth.

The sight was fucking obscene: two gorgeous women, tongues wrestling each other for space, painting my cock in thick ropes of shared spit, moaning like they were the ones getting fucked.

Madison took charge instantly. One manicured hand wrapped around the base—her fingers didn't even meet—and she fed inch after throbbing inch between her lips with practiced, filthy confidence.

Sofia, outclassed but desperate, kept her mouth locked on the head, tongue flicking the slit, sucking down every fresh pulse of pre-cum like it was her only source of oxygen.

Their tongues slid against each other in wet, sloppy passes, swapping my taste back and forth while strings of saliva and pre-cum dripped off my shaft in shiny ropes.

Patricia's turn came like a dam finally breaking. She dropped lower, almost crawling, and cradled my heavy, churning balls in both trembling hands.

Her tongue came out—shy at first—then lashed across the sensitive skin with a starving moan.

She sucked one fat nut into her mouth, then the other, rolling them on her tongue, humming in delirious gratitude as her cunt pulsed so hard she had to grind her thighs together to keep from screaming.

The soft, wet sounds she made were pure filth.

Now I had three mouths devouring me at once.

My hands moved on instinct. Fingers knotted in Madison's hair, forcing her deeper until her throat bulged and her mascara started running in black rivers.

My other hand cupped Patricia's tear-streaked face, thumb pressing that glowing hotspot at the base of her skull.

She screamed around my balls—the sound muffled and wet—as a violent orgasm tore through her, her whole body seizing, fresh pussy juice pattering onto the marble floor beneath her knees.

Through The Eyes I saw everything in blinding clarity: the clench of Sofia's throat, the frantic flutter behind Madison's sternum, the desperate ripple in Patricia's core. I tilted my hips a fraction—enough to bypass Sofia's gag reflex—and drove deeper.

She choked out a grateful, gurgling "gluck-gluck-gluck" as her nose buried in my pubes, throat spasming around my length while her eyes rolled white.

The room was nothing but obscene noise now:

The wet, rhythmic slurping of two throats fighting over my cock.

The filthy pop and suck of Patricia worshipping my balls like they were sacred relics.

The constant, broken symphony of female orgasms—high, low, and everything in between—triggered by nothing more than my taste, my scent, my touch.

My own deep, guttural groans rolling underneath it all like approaching thunder

Pre-cum and spit cascaded down my shaft in thick rivers, pooling on the leather beneath me, the scent of sex so dense it felt like breathing syrup.

I leaned back, a god glutted on tribute, cock buried in worshipful throats while three devastated women knelt in a puddle of their own making. They were lost—high priestesses drunk on the rite, mouths stretched and dripping, cunts ruined and still clenching for more.

And I hadn't even started fucking them yet.

The combined worship from Madison and Sofia was a symphony of depraved devotion, a beautiful cacophony of gasps and wet sounds, but I knew it was merely the overture.

The main event was waiting, her composure a fragile dam ready to break. I gently but firmly extricated myself from their embrace.

My cock, slick and gleaming with their shared saliva, jutted out from my body, a thick, veined monument of hardened flesh that pulsed with my heartbeat. Their eyes, hazy with lust, were locked on it, their lips swollen from their work.

I turned my gaze to Patricia. A silent, powerful command passed between us, amplified by the Motherfucker Halo that wrapped around her, making her need to please me a deep, instinctual imperative that overrode a lifetime of restraint.

I settled back onto the plush sofa, leaning against the cushions, and patted my thigh. The invitation was clear.

Understanding, and a thrilling surge of anticipation, dawned in her eyes. A slow, breathtaking smile spread across her face—the smile of a woman casting off chains.

Madison and Sofia scurried aside like eager handmaidens, their gazes fixed on us, their breathing shallow.

Patricia moved with a deliberate, agonizing slowness that was pure erotica. She straddled my lap, her knees settling on either side of my hips.

She reached down, her slender, elegant fingers—the same fingers that signed her divorce and where her ring once was—wrapping around the thick base of my cock. She guided it, aligning the broad, flushed head with her glistening, swollen entrance.

Her folds were parted, slick with her own desperate arousal, a deep pink and utterly inviting.

She began to lower herself.

The descent was excruciatingly slow. I looked down, watching in rapt fascination as her motherly pussy, neglected for years but desperately eager, began to part around the flared crown of my cock.

The first contact was an electric, wet kiss. Her entire body shuddered, a sharp, gasped "Oh!" escaping her lips.

The fat, swollen crown (glistening, angry purple, flared wide as her fist) pressed against her soaked folds. For a heartbeat we both just stared: her tiny, flushed pussy lips kissing the blunt head, already stretched obscenely around it, trembling, dripping, trying to accommodate something clearly too big.

Then she sank.

The first contact was a wet, searing kiss, her slick heat smearing over my crown, coating it in her juices. The broad, head nudged her entrance, parting those delicate pink lips wider, wider, until the rim of my glans looked like it might split her in half.

A thick ribbon of her creamy arousal was forced out around the intrusion, sliding down my shaft in a lewd trail.

She whimpered, high and broken, hips shaking. I didn't move; I let her do it, let her impale herself on me.

Another fraction of an inch. The flared ridge of my crown compressed slightly, then popped past the tight ring of her entrance with a filthy, wet sound, half squelch, half scream from her throat.

Her pussy lips snapped around the groove just beneath my head like a greedy mouth, sucking, fluttering, trying to drag me deeper even as her body rebelled at the stretch.

Her back arched violently. Tears streaked her cheeks. A fresh gush of slick flooded out around my invading crown, dripping off my balls in heavy drops. Every tiny descent forced another obscene squirt of her juices, her inner walls rippling in panicked, ecstatic waves around the first inch of me.

"F-fuck… it's… it's too big," she sobbed, but her hips kept sinking, greedy, possessed.

The veiny underside of my crown dragged slowly along her front wall, bullying that swollen spot inside her until her eyes rolled back and her cunt spasmed so hard I felt it clamp down like a fist.

Another half inch--her pussy lips now stretched thin and white around my girth, trembling, shining with strain and arousal.

She cried out again, raw and animal, as the fattest part of my head finally seated fully inside her.

Her entrance fluttered helplessly around the ridge, locked in place, unable to push me out, unable to take more yet.

She was stuffed with just the crown, pussy gaping, quivering, drooling helplessly down my shaft while her entire body shook with the first brutal orgasm triggered by nothing but the slow, merciless breach of my cock.

"Oooohhhhhhhh… G-God… Peter…"

It was a long, shuddering moan of pure, unadulterated sensation. Her body arched into a perfect, graceful curve as her inner walls stretched to accommodate my girth.

I could feel every millimeter of the invasion, the exquisite pressure, the way her silken heat clung to me, trying to absorb me. She kept sinking, taking me deeper, until her full, round ass settled flush against my thighs, my entire length buried within her.

A fresh, creamy flood of her arousal seeped out around the base, coating me, a tangible testament to her overwhelming welcome.

She paused there, utterly impaled, filled beyond anything she'd ever known. Her head fell forward, her body trembling as it adjusted to the sheer, breathtaking fullness.

Then, she began to move.

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