Chapter 13: Natasha “I miss mommy cock
The silence that followed was thick, golden, and warm. Natasha lay nestled against Wanda’s side, her ear pressed to the steady, strong rhythm of Wanda’s heart. The taste of her still lingered on Natasha’s tongue, a sacred communion. Yet, as the aftershocks of Wanda’s pleasure faded into a tranquil hum, a deeper, older hunger began to uncoil within Natasha’s core. It was an ache of decades, a hollowed-out space that no client, no transaction, no memory had ever been able to fill.
She tilted her head up, her eyes tracing the line of Wanda’s jaw, the relaxed column of her throat. The words that came were not voiced in the silent room, but transmitted on a frequency only a soulmate could hear, a thought given weight and shape by the chaos magic that bound them.
It’s been so long. I need you back. I’ve been empty for too long.
Wanda’s breathing hitched, her eyes still closed. A faint, crimson glow pulsed just beneath her skin where Natasha’s cheek rested.
Natasha’s mental voice grew more desperate, more childlike in its raw need. Please. I need your cock, mommy. Make me whole again.
Wanda’s eyes opened then. They were deep, understanding, and filled with a potent love. She shifted, sitting up against the ornate headboard. She guided Natasha to sit before her, their knees touching. “You have only to ask, my love,” Wanda murmured aloud, her voice a velvet promise. “You know I live to fill you.”
Wanda leaned back, her posture regal and expectant. She spread her legs, and Natasha watched, mesmerized, as the space between her thighs began to shimmer with that same deep crimson energy. It wasn’t a violent change, but a beautiful, erotic transformation. The soft, glistening folds of her pussy seemed to melt and reform, lengthening, thickening, solidifying into a new, breathtaking shape.
It emerged slowly, magnificently. A cock, thick and proud, exactly twelve inches of heavy, veined flesh, with a girth Natasha’s fingers would struggle to circle. It was the deep pink of a healing scar at the base, fading into a flushed, plum-colored head that wept a single, clear bead of essence. It was utterly real, solid, and intimately, fundamentally Wanda.
Natasha’s breath left her in a soft, reverent gasp. Her soul sang to Wanda’s, the words spilling into the warm air. “Your cock is as beautiful as when I first saw it a lifetime ago.”
A proud, tender smile touched Wanda’s lips. She wrapped a firm hand around the base, giving herself a slow, languid stroke. “It’s yours. It has always been yours. It exists because you remember it.”
Driven by a need that erased all hesitation, Natasha closed the distance. She didn’t wait for an invitation. She bowed her head, her nose brushing against the hot skin of Wanda’s lower stomach, and let her tongue dart out to capture the pearl of fluid from the tip.
A low, sharp groan came from above her. “Yes.”
The taste was complex—sweet like Wanda’s arousal, but with a faint, musky sharpness that was uniquely, powerfully masculine. It was a flavor from her deepest dreams. “It’s as delicious as I remember,” Natasha whispered against the shaft, her lips brushing the straining vein.
She opened her mouth, taking the broad head inside. It was an immediate, profound stretch. Her jaw ached sweetly as she pushed down, taking another inch, then another. It filled her mouth completely, a warm, living weight that pressed against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. A sense of profound rightness, of safety, settled over her. She relaxed her throat, allowing the sensation to overwhelm her.
It fills my mouth. So warm. So safe, she thought-spoke, her eyes fluttering closed. Mommy, you will always be my safe place.
Wanda’s hand returned to her hair, not guiding now, but simply holding, a point of grounding connection. “Show me,” Wanda breathed, her own composure starting to fray. “Show me how much you missed it.”
Natasha began to move. She pulled back until only the tip remained between her lips, swirled her tongue around the flared ridge, then sank down again, taking more this time. She established a slow, worshipful rhythm, one hand coming up to cradle Wanda’s heavy balls, rolling them gently in her palm. The other hand stroked what she couldn’t yet take, her fingers learning the map of thick veins and firm flesh.
Saliva coated her chin. Guttural, hungry sounds vibrated in her throat, transmitted through Wanda’s cock. She was not performing. She was communing. Every slide of her lips, every stroke of her hand, was a prayer of rediscovery, a reclamation of a part of her own soul she thought was lost.
“Fuck, just like that,” Wanda chanted, her hips giving tiny, aborted thrusts. “Your mouth… god, Natasha, your perfect, filthy mouth remembers everything. Suck me. Really suck me.”
Natasha hollowed her cheeks, applying fierce suction as she dragged her lips upwards. She focused on the head, lapping at the slit, tasting the steady, pre-cum leakage that now flowed freely. The obscene, wet sounds filled the boudoir, mingling with their ragged breaths.
“You want it deeper?” Wanda growled, the domme surface cracking to reveal raw need. “You want mommy’s cock down your throat?”
Natasha couldn’t speak, could only moan an affirmative around the fullness in her mouth and nod desperately, tears of effort and bliss prickling her eyes.
Wanda took control. The hand in Natasha’s hair tightened. “Open up for me. Take it all.”
With firm, inexorable pressure, Wanda guided her head down. Natasha relaxed her throat, yielding as the thick shaft pushed past her gag reflex. It was intense, overwhelming. Her eyes watered, her nose pressed into the dark curls at the base. She held there, full to the absolute limit, feeling Wanda’s pulse throb against her tongue.
Wanda held her there for a long, breathtaking moment, a low, continuous moan pouring from her lips. “Look at you. Fuck. Look at my soulmate, taking every fucking inch.”
She pulled Natasha back, letting her gasp for air, shiny spit and pre-cum stringing between her lips and the glistening cock. Then she pushed her down again, establishing a slower, deeper, more punishing rhythm. Natasha surrendered completely, letting Wanda fuck her mouth, using her throat with a possessive generosity that spoke of absolute trust.
“You are mine,” Wanda stated, each word a thrust. “This. Mine. And I am yours. Never empty again. I’ll fill this pretty mouth, and then…” She pulled Natasha off completely, her own chest heaving. “…then I’m going to fill that tight, lonely cunt until you scream.”
Natasha panted, her lips bruised and slick, her eyes wide with unabashed longing. She was no longer empty. She was a vessel, waiting, pleading to be made complete.