Mira's eyes widened, lifting to meet his.

Confusion flickered, then softened into something vulnerable as he closed the distance.

His lips sealed over hers in a bruising kiss—tongue invading her mouth, tasting her tears and the herb's bitterness.

At the same time, both fingers plunged into her pussy.

No warning. Just the sudden stretch of her pink walls gripping his digits, cream immediately coating them as he thrust deep.

"Ammph~!!" Mira's muffled cry vibrated into his mouth, her body jerking reflexively against the invasion.

His body pressed against hers, chubby frame enveloping her thicker one. He hugged her tight, one arm wrapping around her back to pull her tits against his chest, the other hand groping her ass—fingers sinking deep into the fat cheeks, kneading like he wanted to bruise her, break her open.

She muffled against the kiss, eyes teary and wide, her throat releasing small whimpering sounds—"mmmh... mmnh..."—barely audible beneath his mouth. Her hands came up to his shoulders, fingers digging in as if to push him away—but they loosened almost immediately, trembling against his skin.

She saw it in his eyes: determination, possession, a promise that he wouldn't discard her.

She hugged him back, arms wrapping around his neck, her body melting into his as soft gasps escaped through her nose—quick, desperate little breaths that made her chest heave against him. She let him devour her mouth while his fingers fucked her sloppy cunt.

The wet schlick-schlick of his thrusting echoed obscenely. Her pink petals bloomed wider around his knuckles, inner walls rippling and clenching. He curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot inside her, making her hips buck involuntarily, thighs quivering.

"Mmmph~! Hnnngh~!" Moans escaped between kisses, her tongue tangling with his sloppily, each sound muffled and wet. Her toes curled in the dirt, spine arching as tremors ran through her legs.

Viktor broke the kiss only to bite her lower lip, then dove back in, his free hand still mauling her ass—spreading the cheeks to expose her pink asshole, thumb brushing the tight ring teasingly.

Mira's body thrashed against him, tits squishing against his soft belly, nipples dragging across his skin. Small, broken sounds leaked from her throat—"ah... ah... ahh..."—half-whimpers, half-moans, muffled by his relentless mouth.

The pleasure built fast—too fast—her pent-up pussy desperate for any touch, her thighs beginning to shake uncontrollably.

She came hard.

Her walls clamped down on his fingers like a vice, spasming wildly as cream gushed out in hot spurts.

"AHHHNN~!! Cumming~!! Again~!!" The cry muffled into his mouth, her eyes squeezing shut, whole body going rigid before convulsing against him. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders, leaving red marks, her hips grinding desperately against his hand.

She braced for it—braced for him to pull away, to call her useless again, to laugh at how easily she shattered.

But she clenched tighter instead, hating the memory of his words, her pussy milking his fingers defiantly as if to prove she could please him. Soft, breathless whimpers poured from her—"hah... hah... mmnh..."—each one weaker than the last.

Viktor smirked against her lips, feeling the vice-like grip. 'What a good wife.'

Slrp slrp slrp

He pumped his fingers through her climax, drawing out every shudder until she was limp in his arms, her body twitching with aftershocks, small gasps escaping between their joined mouths.

Finally, he separated from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting their lips.

Mira's eyes fluttered open, glazed with aftershocks, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Panic flickered—she thought he was leaving again, abandoning her mid-climax.

But Viktor grabbed her hand, guiding it down to his underwear. His cock throbbed beneath the fabric, thick and hot, precum soaking through.

"Let me check how long you can hold your breath," he commanded, voice rough with need.

Mira blinked up at him, her glazed green eyes still hazy from the aftershocks of her orgasm, her hand trembling in his grip as it pressed against the throbbing heat of his cock through the damp underwear. A soft, confused sound escaped her lips—"mmh?"—barely more than a breath.

Precum seeped through the fabric, sticky and warm against her palm, making her fingers twitch with a mix of fear and that newly awakened hunger.

Viktor's other hand shot up, both palms cupping her massive, sagging tits.

He lifted them roughly, feeling the heavy weight spill over his fingers, the soft flesh yielding like overripe fruit.

Her nipples—those thick, inch-long teats—scraped against his palms, already leaking faint beads of milk that smeared across his skin. A sharp gasp tore from her throat—"ah!"—her back arching slightly.

"They're too loose, right?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, squeezing them hard enough to make the veins bulge blue beneath the pale surface.

Mira's full lips trembled, fresh tears welling in her eyes as old insecurities clawed at her. Her late husband had sneered at them—called them deflated udders, ugly from birthing Toby.

She bit her lip, nodding faintly, shame flushing her cheeks deeper crimson. A choked whimper escaped—"mmnh..."—vulnerable and broken.

Viktor chuckled darkly, his thumbs flicking her nipples viciously, twisting the raw nubs until she whimpered—"ahhh... p-please..."—her hips shifting restlessly beneath him.

"And I love them. They look made for fucking—made for slapping against me while I breed you daily like a good wife you are."

Her eyes lifted to his, wide and shimmering, the words hitting her like a balm over wounds she didn't know were still bleeding. A soft, breathless sound escaped her—half-sob, half-moan—"oh..."

Relief mixed with that feral need, her pussy clenching emptily below, still dripping her cream into the dirt, inner walls fluttering.

Before she could respond, Viktor's hand clasped her face—fingers digging into her jaw, tilting her head back forcefully.

"On your back, wife," he growled, guiding her down until she lay sprawled in the garden dirt, her thick thighs splaying wide, torn dress rags framing her exposed body like a filthy offering.

Small gasps escaped her as she settled—"hah... hah..."—chest rising and falling rapidly.

From this angle—looking up from the ground—Mira's world narrowed to him towering above. His chubby frame blocked the morning sun, casting shadows over her.

She watched, breath hitching—a sharp intake that made her tits jiggle—as he hooked his thumbs into his underwear and yanked them down.

His cock sprang free.

Long—easily eight inches of thick, veiny meat—hanging heavy below his soft belly like a weapon. The shaft was girthy, veins bulging like twisted ropes along the length, pulsing with his heartbeat.

The cockhead was a fat, mushroom-shaped bulb, flushed deep purple and already slick with precum that beaded at the slit and dripped in a sticky string toward her face.

Wild, coarse hair framed the base, matted with sweat, making the whole thing look primal, animalistic—nothing like the smooth, lifeless wood she'd fucked herself with for years.

Her lips parted unconsciously, a soft, awed sound escaping—"oh god... thi..this.."—barely a whisper, her thighs trembling.

Viktor knelt again, straddling her chest now, his knees pinning her arms to the dirt.

His heavy balls—low-hanging and hairy—dangled inches from her face, the musky scent hitting her like a punch: sweat, precum, and that raw masculine tang that made her head spin and her shaved pussy twitch.

A quiet whimper left her—"mmnh..."—her eyes glazing further, hips shifting restlessly below.

His hand went to her neck, fingers wrapping around the delicate column of her throat from below.

He arched her back slightly with the pressure, lifting her head toward his groin, feeling her pulse racing beneath his palm, her breath coming in quick, shallow pants—"hah... hah..."

"Let's make it wet first," he said, voice rough with lust.

Mira's eyes widened in confusion—what did he—? A soft, uncertain sound escaped her throat—"mmh...?"

But then his cock slapped against her lips.

The fat head smeared precum across her full mouth, parting her lips with insistent pressure. A muffled gasp—"mmph!"—vibrated against his flesh.

Viktor held her neck steady, his thumbs pressing right against her vocal cords, rubbing the soft flesh there in slow circles as if massaging his own impending invasion.

Her breath quickened against his cock, warm puffs of air ghosting over the sensitive head, her body trembling beneath him—small, involuntary shivers running through her pinned arms and quivering thighs.

He pushed forward.

Instead of her pussy, he claimed her mouth.

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