Chapter 121: Dewi again?
The humid air hung thick, saturated with the scent of sex, sweat, and frangipani. Dewi watched, her own thighs still trembling from Bruce’s brutal possession, her stretched pussy aching and leaking his cum onto the cool stone floor where she sat propped against a carved pillar. Her dark eyes were wide, stunned, fixed on the bed where Bruce now lay beneath Erika.
The Icelandic beauty rode him with a slow, deep intensity that seemed almost languid compared to the frantic energy of Jasmine or Lena. Erika’s pale skin glowed with exertion, her long, platinum hair plastered to her neck and shoulders. Her startling blue eyes were half-closed, focused inward as she lifted herself almost entirely off his thick cock, then sank down with excruciating slowness, taking every inch deep into her tight, wet cunt. A low moan vibrated in her throat with each descent. "So deep... Bruce... fills me... completely..." she breathed, her hips rolling in slow circles once she was fully impaled.
Bruce’s hands rested on her slender waist, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath her. His swirling hazel eyes, flecked with deep emerald green now, watched her face, absorbed in her pleasure. He thrust upwards gently, meeting her downward glide, the wet sound of their joining a soft counterpoint to Erika’s sighs. "Your pussy... fucking velvet," he rasped, his voice rough but controlled. "Sucking me in."
Dewi’s jaw tightened. Eight times? The number echoed in her skull. Erika was the seventh wife he’d taken tonight, one after another, each fuck raw and demanding, each ending with him pumping thick cum deep inside them. And he wasn’t slowing down. His cock, slick and glistening with the mixed fluids of seven women, stood rigidly upright, buried to the hilt in Erika’s pale depths. It looked impossibly hard, impossibly ready. How? The men she’d known would be gasping, limp, needing days – maybe weeks – to recover from one such encounter. Bruce looked... focused. Driven. Like a machine fueled by pure, relentless lust.
Erika’s pace subtly increased. Her breath hitched. "Oh... oh yes... there... right there..." Her rolling circles became sharper, faster grinds. She leaned forward, her large breasts swaying, brushing Bruce’s chest. Her moans escalated, turning sharper, more urgent. "Fuck... Bruce... I'm... I'm gonna..." Her inner muscles visibly clenched around his shaft. "CUMMING! OH GOD! CUMMING ON YOUR COCK!" Her body locked, arching, a high, keening cry tearing from her lips as her orgasm crashed over her. Her pale cunt pulsed violently around him, milking his length.
Bruce groaned, thrusting up hard several times, driving deep into her spasming heat. "Take it," he growled. "Take my fucking cum!" With a final, powerful surge, he held deep, his cock pulsing as another heavy load jetted into Erika’s clutching depths. She collapsed onto his chest, shuddering, gasping, her body limp.
Sophia was already moving. The Spanish trainer, her sculpted body gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, approached the bed with purposeful strides. Her dark eyes held a mix of fascination and fierce hunger. She gently nudged Erika’s shoulder. "My turn, sister," she murmured, her voice thick with anticipation. Erika rolled off with a sigh, her legs trembling, Bruce’s cum already leaking onto the sheets.
Sophia didn’t hesitate. She swung a powerful leg over Bruce’s hips and sank down onto his slick, cum-coated cock in one smooth, decisive motion. "AH! Dios mio!" she gasped, her head snapping back. "Still... still so fucking hard! Like iron!" She began to move immediately, not with Erika’s slow intensity, but with the powerful, controlled rhythm of an athlete. Her hips pistoned up and down, her strong thighs flexing, driving his thick shaft deep into her tight, toned pussy with each descent. The wet slap of her ass against his thighs echoed sharply.
"Fuck me!" Sophia demanded, bracing her hands on his chest, her gaze locked fiercely onto his. "Fuck this tight Spanish pussy! Ram it deep! Make me scream!" She rode him hard, her breasts bouncing, sweat flying from her brow. Each downward plunge drew a guttural cry from her lips. "YES! DEEP! STRETCH ME! FILL ME UP WITH THAT BIG WHITE COCK!"
Bruce’s hands flew to her ass, gripping the firm, sculpted cheeks, fingers digging in as he thrust upwards to meet her furious pace. His grunts mingled with her sharp cries. "Ride it!" he commanded, his voice ragged but strong. "Ride my fucking dick like you own it! Take every inch!"
Sophia obeyed, her movements becoming even more frenzied. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around him, a demanding pressure. "Oh fuck... Bruce... I feel it... I feel you... deep inside... gonna make me... OH! CUMMING! FUCK! CUMMING HARD!" Her body convulsed, her back arching sharply, her pussy clamping down in fierce, rhythmic spasms. "PUMP IT! PUMP YOUR LOAD! BREED ME!"
The intense clenching triggered his release. Bruce roared, slamming up into her as his cock erupted again, thick ropes of cum jetting deep into her convulsing channel. Sophia screamed, her climax intensifying as she felt the scalding flood fill her. She collapsed forward onto his chest, panting raggedly, her body trembling violently.
Camille was already there. Bruce’s first wife, his anchor, moved with serene confidence. She placed a gentle hand on Sophia’s sweat-slicked back. "Beautifully done, corazón," she murmured. Sophia rolled off, utterly spent, joining the others in a sprawl of exhausted, satisfied limbs on the vast bed.
Camille knelt between Bruce’s legs. Her dark eyes, filled with deep devotion and fierce pride, met his swirling gaze – the colors now a turbulent mix of gold and deep, stormy blue. She didn’t climb on immediately. Instead, her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, slick and glistening, still rigidly erect despite the eight loads he’d already pumped into his wives. She squeezed gently, feeling the powerful throb beneath her fingers. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips. She leaned forward, her thick ass arching, and took the swollen head into her mouth.
Bruce groaned, a deep, visceral sound, as her hot, wet mouth enveloped him. Camille sucked firmly, her tongue swirling expertly around the sensitive crown, tasting the mingled essence of her sisters. She took him deep, her throat working, then pulled back, swirling her tongue along the thick vein underneath. "Still so hard for me, mi amor?" she murmured, her breath hot against his wet skin. "Still hungry?"
"Always hungry for you, Camille," Bruce rasped, his hips lifting slightly, seeking more of her mouth.
Camille smiled, releasing him with a soft pop. "Then take me," she commanded softly, shifting her position. She swung her thick leg over his hips, guiding his slick cock to her own dripping entrance. She sank down slowly, deliberately, inch by agonizing inch, her dark eyes locked onto his. A low moan escaped her as she seated herself fully, his thick girth stretching her familiar, welcoming cunt wide. "Ahhh... si... always fits... perfectly..."
She began to move. Not frantic, not demanding, but deep, sensual rolls of her hips, grinding her clit against his pubic bone with each downward motion. Her small, perky breasts swayed gently. She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest, her face close to his. "Watch me," she whispered, her voice thick with love and lust. "Watch your wife take your big cock. Watch me milk it dry." Her inner muscles clenched rhythmically around him, a practiced, demanding squeeze.
Bruce’s hands slid up her thick thighs to grip her waist, his gaze locked on hers, then drifting down to watch his slick shaft disappear into her dark, wet folds with each deep grind. "Fucking beautiful," he breathed. "Your cunt... made for me..."
Camille increased the pressure, her grinding becoming more insistent. Her breath hitched. "Feel it... Bruce... feel me... taking you... milking that thick cock..." Her voice was a husky whisper. "Gonna make you cum... deep inside me... fill your first wife... mi amor... give it to me..."
The rhythmic clenching, the intense eye contact, the sheer devotion radiating from her – it pushed him over the edge he’d been teetering on. Bruce’s control finally snapped. With a guttural roar, he thrust up hard, burying himself impossibly deep. His cock pulsed violently, jetting his ninth load of the night deep into Camille’s clutching depths. She cried out, her own orgasm triggered by the scalding flood and the force of his possession, her body shuddering atop him, her pussy milking him dry.
Camille collapsed onto his chest, panting, her body trembling with aftershocks. She nuzzled his neck, whispering words of love in Spanish. Bruce held her close, his chest heaving, sweat pouring off him, his cock finally, mercifully, beginning to soften within her warmth.
Dewi stared, utterly dumbfounded. The impossible had happened again. Nine times. Nine wives. Nine deep, hard fucks ending in explosive release. His cock, slick with the combined juices and cum of all nine women, still jutted up proudly, nestled in Camille’s cunt, only now showing the first signs of subsiding. Her own pussy throbbed in sympathetic ache, dripping fresh arousal onto the stone floor. How? The word screamed silently in her mind. Just fucking how?
Bruce turned his head slightly, his swirling hazel eyes, now a calmer mix of blue and green with faint gold flecks, finding hers across the room. Exhaustion etched his face, but a predatory heat still smoldered in his gaze. His voice, rough and low, cut through the humid air thick with the scent of sex and exertion.
"Dewi," he rasped. "Want to go again?"
Dewi blinked. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Shock warred with the insistent throb between her legs. She gestured weakly towards him, towards Camille still draped over him, towards the sheer impossibility of it. "How?" she finally choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "How do you... do that? Nine times... how?"
Camille lifted her head from Bruce’s chest. A serene, knowing smile touched her lips as she looked at the stunned newcomer. She shifted slightly, Bruce’s softening cock slipping wetly from her with a soft sigh. She reached down, her fingers brushing through her own slick folds, gathering a thick mixture of cum and arousal on her fingertips. She held Dewi’s gaze, her expression calm, confident, utterly pragmatic.
"Don’t ask questions there are no answers to, cariño," Camille said softly, her voice carrying effortlessly. She gestured towards Bruce’s still semi-hard cock, glistening obscenely. "Just get on that dick." Her dark eyes flickered down pointedly to the wet patch spreading beneath Dewi on the stone floor. "Your pussy," she added, her tone leaving no room for argument, "is dripping for it."
Camille’s words hung in the humid air, thick as the scent of sex and frangipani. Dewi’s breath hitched, trapped in her throat. Her gaze flickered wildly between Camille’s calm, expectant face, the glistening, semi-hard cock resting against Bruce’s thigh, and the undeniable slickness pooling beneath her own trembling legs on the cool stone.
Nine times. The impossibility screamed inside her skull. Her thighs clenched instinctively, sending a fresh pulse of wetness trickling down her inner thigh. The ache deep within her core throbbed in time with her racing heart, a visceral counterpoint to her disbelief. Camille was right; denial was pointless against this raw, demanding hunger.
A low groan escaped Bruce, rough and primal. His swirling hazel eyes, flecks of gold now prominent amidst the blue and green, locked onto hers with unnerving intensity. Sweat slicked his powerful chest, rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. The invitation, the command, radiated from him, amplified by Camille’s unwavering stare and the heavy silence of the other wives watching, their own bodies still humming with recent satisfaction.
Dewi’s legs moved before her mind fully consented. She pushed herself up from the pillar, her muscles protesting, unsteady. The cool stone floor felt jarringly real beneath her bare feet. She took one hesitant step, then another, drawn towards the bed like a moth to a lethal flame. The scent of sex intensified – salty sweat, musky arousal, the tang of spent cum – wrapping around her, pulling her deeper.
Her knees hit the edge of the vast bed. Bruce’s gaze never wavered. Up close, the sheer size of him was overwhelming – the thick muscle, the veins tracing his forearms, the undeniable presence of his cock, still formidable despite softening slightly, slick and gleaming under the low light. Camille shifted slightly, a silent encouragement, her dark eyes watching Dewi’s every move.
Dewi swallowed hard, the sound loud in her own ears. Her hands trembled as she placed them on Bruce’s sweat-dampened thighs, the heat radiating from his skin searing her palms. She hesitated, staring at the thick shaft nestled in dark curls, slick with the combined essence of all nine women. Her own wetness dripped onto his leg, mingling.
"Fuck," she breathed, the word escaping in a shaky whisper. The need was a physical force now, overriding shock, overriding reason. It coiled low in her belly, a desperate, pulsing ache demanding relief. Her pussy clenched around nothing, weeping.
She swung one leg over his hips, her body trembling. The coarse hair on his thighs brushed against her sensitive inner skin. Positioning herself, she felt the swollen, slick head of his cock press firmly against her soaked entrance. A gasp tore from her lips at the contact, electric and undeniable. She was swollen, sensitive, stretched from his earlier brutal possession, yet impossibly hungry for more.
"Deep," Bruce rasped, his voice gravelly with exhaustion and relentless desire. His hands settled heavily on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, guiding her. "Take it all."
Dewi braced herself. She sank down slowly, agonizingly slowly, feeling the thick, slick crown stretch her tender opening wide once more. A sharp cry escaped her as her inner walls yielded, burning with the renewed intrusion. Inch by relentless inch, his girth filled her, stretching her impossibly full, the sensation a dizzying mix of pain and profound, aching pleasure. The wet, sucking sound of her cunt swallowing him echoed obscenely.
"Christ," she whimpered, her head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as she bottomed out, his pelvis grinding against her clit. He was buried to the hilt inside her, his heat immense, his presence overwhelming. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly around the invading thickness, instinctively trying to accommodate him. "So... fucking... big... still..."
Bruce grunted, a deep, satisfied sound vibrating through his chest and into her core. His hands tightened on her hips, urging her. "Move," he commanded, his voice rough. "Ride it."
Dewi obeyed, lifting herself slightly, feeling the drag of his thick cock along her sensitized walls. She sank back down, a choked moan escaping her lips. The friction was exquisite torture, igniting sparks along every nerve. She repeated the motion, finding a tentative rhythm, her hips rocking forward as she descended, grinding her clit against his pubic bone.
"Yeah," Bruce breathed, his eyes darkening, fixed on where their bodies joined. "Just like that. Work that tight little cunt." He thrust upward shallowly, meeting her downward stroke, forcing himself deeper. "Feel how fucking wet you are? Taking my cock again..."
Dewi gasped, the sensation of him pistoning up into her while she rode him short-circuiting her thoughts. Pleasure, sharp and intense, began to coil tightly in her belly, cutting through the lingering soreness. Her movements grew bolder, less hesitant. She rose higher, then slammed back down, taking him hard, the wet slap of her ass against his thighs joining the slick sounds of penetration.
"Oh god!" she cried out, her voice ragged. Her hands flew to her own breasts, fingers pinching her nipples roughly, the sharp pain amplifying the pleasure radiating from her core. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" Her hips pistoned faster, driven by a desperate, rising need. "Your cock... stretching me... filling me... again..."
Bruce matched her frantic pace, his thrusts becoming powerful, upward drives that hammered into her depths. His grip on her hips was bruising now, holding her steady as he pistoned into her wet heat. "That's it," he growled, sweat beading anew on his brow. "Take it! Milk my fucking cock! Show me how much you needed it!"
Dewi’s world narrowed to the relentless friction, the thick invasion, the building pressure threatening to shatter her. Her cries turned wordless, high-pitched gasps and moans. She rode him with abandon, her body slick with sweat, her cunt gripping him fiercely, the raw, explicit act consuming her entirely. The compound, the watching wives, the impossible endurance – it all faded, replaced by the primal rhythm of flesh pounding against flesh, the filthy, wet sounds of their joining, and the overwhelming drive towards oblivion. Her climax roared towards her, inevitable, unstoppable.