"N-no… not yet. Never," I stammered, my voice catching as my gaze dropped, helpless, to her abundant breasts. They loomed, full and inviting, her flushed nipples grazing my thighs through my slacks, a promise of what could be.
A man's fevered dream—straight out of the 18+ manhua I'd devoured, where some lucky MC gets whisked into a milf's private lair, ravished through titjobs, assjobs, thighjobs, until dawn breaks. My pulse surged, the fantasy colliding with reality.
"Men used to lose their minds when I did this," she hummed, a sultry edge to her tone. With a slow, deliberate lift, she shifted, hoisting her hefty breasts to rest across my hips, their weight a warm, crushing anchor.
Lorette's breasts pressed against my hips, their softness enveloping me like a heated blanket, heavy yet yielding, with a plush texture that defied easy words. Mochi, maybe—dense, velvety mochi, weighted with warmth. Milk balloons?
Too crude for the silken heft molding to my thighs, each curve a paradox of tender and firm. Describing them felt like chasing a half-remembered dream, the language slipping through my fingers.
The sheer reality of her offer—a titjob, a manhua fantasy made flesh—sent my head rolling back against the couch, a groan tearing from my throat. "Rrrrgh..."
Her breasts worked me like a carnal massage, their rhythmic pressure sparking electric bursts across my vision, sharper than the stars I'd see taking a punch in sparring.
"I love the way it twitches, Jona..." Lorette cooed, each glide of her skin against mine was a pulse of pleasure, overwhelming, grounding me in the mansion's amber-lit haze, threatening to wring me dry.
Each stroke of Lorette's breasts against my hips was a tidal pull, her rhythmic waves stripping away pieces of me—control, restraint, maybe something deeper.
The sensation was seismic, a pleasure so profound it felt like she was unraveling my very core. I glanced down at her, lost in the act, and froze as a peculiarity caught my eye, my breath hitching.
Like Yulia, Lorette wasn't fully human. Her form shimmered, unraveling into something otherworldly. Her fair skin took on an earthy green hue, like moss kissed by dawn, while her brunette curls blushed pink, petal-like strands gleaming with lustrous sheen.
Her eyes, once dark, glowed a vibrant orange, brimming with glee as she pulsed with a faint mana aura, tendrils of energy coiling from me to her. A dryad—wild, primal, feeding on my vitality with every press of her body.
"Your… human form's slipping, Lorette," I rasped, a groan tearing free as she squeezed her breasts inward, their silken weight crushing my length with mind-shattering pressure.
My cock throbbed, drooling precum in greedy hunger, craving more despite the raw sensitivity from two back-to-back orgasms.
The chandelier's amber glow danced across her verdant skin, her petal-hair swaying as she worked, a forest goddess claiming her due.
"Oh my," Lorette purred, her orange eyes twinkling like a child caught with a hidden gift. Her dryad form glowed brighter, verdant skin shimmering under the chandelier's amber light as a vine-like tongue unfurled from her lips. It slithered across the crown of my cock, coiling to-and-fro with a slick, teasing grip that sent shivers through me.
"I haven't had this form pulled out in ages," she said, voice bubbling with delight. "Usually, I have to coax it myself."
Her joy was infectious, a wild spark that quivered her petal-pink hair. She dipped her head, nestling her mouth into the plush valley of her cleavage, and closed her lips around my tip with a sudden, wet suction.
The combination—her soft breasts crushing me, her vine-tongue's writhing hold, and that relentless pull—ignited a fire in my core. My hips bucked, thrusting instinctively, the leather couch creaking beneath me as I fought to stay grounded under the onslaught of pleasure.
"Agh… so good…! C-Cumming again…!" The combined embrace of Lorette's breasts, her coiling vine-tongue, and her relentless suction overwhelmed me. My essence erupted, coating her face and the verdant valley of her cleavage in thick, milky rivulets.
She giggled, pure bliss radiating as she lapped at the streams, her dryad form glowing brighter—mossy skin shimmering, curves tightening, growing denser with each drop she drank, as if my release fueled her primal energy. Her petal-pink hair quivered, orange eyes gleaming with delight.
"I can't wait anymore, Jona…" Lorette's husky whisper cut through my haze, my vision blurring as my heart pounded, chest heaving for air. A strange well of energy surged within me, primal and untamed.
Deep inside, chains rustled, a heavy lock jangling at its core. For a fleeting moment, a vision gripped me—dark, bountiful energy, raw virility, an aura of dominance staring back with searing intensity.
Not one pair of eyes, but seven, each a different size and silhouette, watching, waiting, their weight pressing against my soul.
"Don't keep me waiting, big boy…" Lorette's voice, rich with a dryad's earthy allure, yanked me back. Her scent—wildflowers and dew—flooded my senses as she spread her legs, her forty-inch cheeks parting to reveal a slick garden of leaves, glistening with nectar that magnetized me without consent.
Who could resist a dryad's pull? Not me.
Fueled by that vision's surge and the raw desire to claim her since Beloflair's heated glances, I slid into her, her dew-slick canal welcoming me with a smooth, tight grip.
"Oooohhh… yes, baby… pound me deep, Jona… straight past my womb…!" Lorette's exhale was a sultry moan, her passage undulating like her mouth's earlier pull, a rhythmic clutch that felt alive, vine-like, drawing me deeper. From above, her verdant curves were a stellar vista, swaying with each thrust.
"Fuck… I love this dick… give me more…!" Her breasts swung like heavy pendulums, slick with semen and sweat, clapping loudly as my thrusts intensified. I hit her cervix fast, its tight ring stroking my frenulum, an added layer of electric pleasure that teased the edge of invasion. One well-placed thrust could breach her core, and the thought drove me wild.
"Harder, baby… I can take it all…!" Lorette's taunt sparked a hunger for control. My hand fisted her petal-hair, tugging firmly, while the other looped her arms behind her back, pinning them together.
Her form hung now on her trembling legs and my cock, her heavy breasts slapping louder, paired with guttural moans that filled the mansion's amber-lit haze. The dual claps—flesh and rhythm—assaulted my ears, a primal symphony.
"Grrr… your pussy's so tight, Lorette… like vines choking my dick!" I growled, adjusting to her clamping tunnel, her walls pulsing with each thrust. Her grunts melted into giggles, a mix of satisfaction and unfettered lust, her dryad nature reveling in the mating.
"Thinking about this big, manly cock… it's making me cum…! Jona, cum with me, please…" Lorette gasped, her lower petals growing stickier, syrupy nectar coating us both. It felt like cool massage oil against the air, yet burned with a tickling heat that seared my skin, urging me deeper.
"Cumming, cumming, cumming—ohmyopheliaohmyophelia…!" Lorette's raw, desperate chant shattered the air, her voice a siren's call that shoved me to the brink. Our hips collided in a fevered rhythm, an amorous forge—hammer to anvil, pounding steel into perfect shape.
The chandelier's amber glow flickered across her verdant skin, her petal-pink hair swaying as her dryad form pulsed with wild energy, drawing me deeper into her spell.
"Hnnnngh…!" Her pussy's inescapable grip clenched like living vines, wringing out what felt like my last drops of semen, a torrent flooding straight into her womb. At some point, my tip had wedged past her cervix, a tight breach that confirmed direct insemination.
"Ngh... ffffuck...!" My core shuddered, factories drained in pulsing waves, each one bending to the dryad's primal will. Her canal rippled, milking me with a possessive hunger that left my vision swimming.
Lorette's insatiable hunger for my fluids made cleanup swift, her dryad nature drinking in every trace with a glow that pulsed across her verdant skin.
Despite the mysterious surge of energy from that seven-eyed vision, her primal pull left me drained, a feverish weakness sinking into my bones without the heat.
I slumped on the couch, the leather cool against my back, as she draped a plush bathrobe over me, her touch lingering.
"Rest," she murmured, her orange eyes glinting before she sauntered to the kitchen, hips swaying under the chandelier's amber haze.
Was it my imagination, or did soft moans drift from the kitchen? When she returned, her petal-pink hair shimmered, and she carried a crystal pitcher of clear liquid, pouring a serving into a chilled glass.
Her cheeks flushed—whether from our earlier mating or something else, I couldn't tell. "Here, something to energize you," she said, handing me the glass with a smile that held secrets.
The liquid smelled sweet, like honey-kissed water, its aroma curling through my senses. I drank, the cool, silky fluid sliding down smooth, refreshing, better than any spring.
Lorette's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "How's it taste?" she asked, leaning closer, her verdant curves catching the firelight.
"Smooth, refreshing—better than water," I said, holding back a thought about carbonation. Something in her gaze warned against it.
As the liquid settled, a burst of warm energy flooded my body, like a tank refilled to the brim, every muscle humming with renewed vigor. My exhaustion vanished, replaced by a raging hardness that strained the bathrobe.
"Glad you like it," Lorette purred, palming her breasts. A bead of nectar dripped from one flushed bud, glistening like dew. "It's my dew—a cold drink that feels like a warm, soupy aphrodisiac." She winked, her dryad allure sparking the air.
My pulse surged, the boner now a demand, fueled by her supernatural essence.
"I'm not letting you burn out, Jona. Let's keep this circulating between us. The night's young, and so are you—follow me to the bedroom."