My Beastly Husband

Chapter 81.2


Talk About It

Translated by Ada
Edited by Ada

 

 

But this action made her breasts shake even harder. The two spots of cherry red stood up unconsciously as if inviting the pity of others.
Chelsea was tantalized. He leaned down and took hold of one side of the breast. He opened his mouth and held the tip, his teeth clenched on the tiny cherry red. His other hand held the entire white breast. His middle and pointer fingers pinched the cherry red and pulled it upward.

“Ah! Don’t! Gently! Ah!” Moussa was getting worked up and sore by him. She reached out and pressed her hand against his ravaging hand on her breast and tried to stop him.

Chelsea held her tiny hand back on her breast and let her rub it up herself. This almost masturbatory position stimulated Chelsea to become even more frantic.

With one large hand, he gripped the roots of Moussa’s thighs and yanked them hard outward, pulling her heavily against him as his rod slammed into her.
“Ahhhhh!” Moussa screamed as she came without receiving more than a few strokes.

The climax caused her to squeeze tightly, refusing to let the big rod go any deeper. Her entrance to the uterus was clenching as she tried to stop the huge glans from penetrating it.

But this did not stop Chelsea’s movements but instead aroused his desire to conquer. The rod was like a wedge, heavily impaled into the convulsing and gushing nectar of her flower.

“Oooh! Gently! No more! Ahhhh! I can’t take it! Husband!” The ultimate pleasure and pain of the fierce thrusts against her flower and the uterine opening in the middle of the orgasm made Moussa’s mind confused. Moussa screamed loudly with her mouth open and her hands in the air as she reached in all directions. After hitting Chelsea’s shoulder, she grabbed it and squeezed it tight.
The stinging pain on the back stimulated Chelsea. The speed and force of the in and out became more and more ferocious. The huge glans was not satisfied with the whole plunging into the womb’s mouth. It continued to go deeper and deeper, forcing the inner wall of the womb to keep cutting the ground and giving way.

“Ah! Don’t! It hurts! It’s too deep! Don’t! Don’t go in again! To break! Ah! Spare me! Husband! Ah ah ah!” Moussa couldn’t stand it and scream. Her small hand pressed on the obvious bulge on her belly, trying to push it out.

Moussa’s pressure intensified Chelsea’s pleasure. He moved in and out more vigorously, bringing the nectar out splashing it around. The loud slap of flesh, the “plop, plop, plop” sound of fluids, and the sound of Moussa’s moans echoed in the room.

Moussa had no energy to scream and whimpered. Her legs were spread wide as the irrational man pushed in and out between her legs. A lot of nectar was whipped by him into a fine white foam that filled their union, making it blinding and lascivious.
In the end, Chelsea took Moussa in his arms and leaned her back against him. His hands cupped her buttocks and thighs, throwing and pulling her up and down, faster and faster. He finally hissed and spurted out against her deepest point.

Moussa was nearly out of breath from his more than usual fierce f*cking. When he finally laid her down on her back, she passed out within a minute.

When Chelsea saw her asleep, he thought he had done his job. Although he hadn’t had his fun, the safety of the village was more important. So after a bit of rest, he got up and went on night patrol.

When Moussa woke up, she subconsciously touched her side and was cold. She knew that Chelsea had left a long time ago and looked up at the sky. It was already dawn.