The Jade Faced Cuck-Chapter 64: The Taste of Her First Futa Fuck

Xue Lan lay back against the pillows, her body still trembling from the powerful orgasm Chi Jiao had wrung out of her. Her legs remained wide open, thick streams of cum leaking steadily from her overstretched pussy, glistening in the low light of the room.

Chi Jiao stood at the edge of the bed, cock still rock-hard, glistening with a heavy coat of slick and her own semen. Each pulse of blood through her shaft made it twitch slightly, a throbbing monument to how thoroughly she had just claimed Lin Mu's wife.

Lin Mu knelt at the foot of the bed, eyes wide, mouth dry, cock dripping helplessly onto the floor. His entire body vibrated with shame and arousal, his knees burning against the stone.

Xue Lan opened her eyes lazily and smiled at him.

"Mu'er," she said, voice husky and sweet from exertion. "Come here."

He crawled forward immediately, heart hammering against his ribs, cock bobbing pathetically with each movement.

"Mistress Chi Jiao's cock is filthy," Xue Lan said, her tone dripping with lazy command. "You should clean her properly."

Chi Jiao chuckled low in her throat, stepping closer to Lin Mu, her massive shaft hanging in front of his face—slick, messy, reeking of his wife's juices and fresh cum. The smell was thick in the air: raw sex, hot sweat, the heavy musk of a pussy thoroughly and savagely used.

"Make it shine, cuck," Chi Jiao said, gripping the base and presenting it proudly.

Lin Mu trembled, but obeyed.

He leaned in, tongue trembling, and pressed it against the thick underside of Chi Jiao's shaft.

The taste slammed into him immediately.

Hot.

Salty.

Musky.

The mixture of Xue Lan's pussy juices and Chi Jiao's potent cum coated his tongue instantly, and he moaned brokenly around the first slow lick, precum spurting from his tiny, untouched cock onto the floor.

Chi Jiao groaned above him, the heavy weight of her cock throbbing against his mouth.

Xue Lan laughed softly from the bed, watching. "Good boy. Don't miss a spot."

Lin Mu worked slowly, dragging his tongue along the thick veins, lapping up every sticky droplet that clung to her enormous cock. He licked along the underside, swirling around the thick head, cleaning away the strings of creamy residue that still clung to the crown.

Chi Jiao throbbed heavily with every pass of his tongue.

"Stroke it while you clean," she commanded, voice thick with satisfaction.

He obeyed, wrapping one small, trembling hand around her shaft, barely able to circle it, stroking gently while his mouth worshipped every inch.

The humiliation burned through him hotter than anything he had ever felt.

He licked under her crown, tracing the rim slowly with his tongue, slurping noisily at every bead of seed that gathered.

He moaned against her flesh, the taste embedding itself into his senses.

Chi Jiao grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his mouth harder against her shaft.

"Deeper," she ordered. "Take more."

Lin Mu whimpered but opened wider, dragging his tongue along the thick length, sucking lightly, letting the weight of her cock rest across his face.

Xue Lan moaned softly at the sight, her fingers idly toying with her still-sensitive, cum-filled pussy.

"Look at you," she teased. "Serving like the good little husband you are. Cleaning up the woman who ruined me."

Lin Mu sobbed quietly, but he didn't stop.

He pressed his face to the side of Chi Jiao's cock, licking upward in long, worshipful strokes, polishing her until her shaft gleamed with the sheen of spit and devotion.

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By the time he pulled back, panting and red-faced, Chi Jiao's cock was spotless—still rock hard, still throbbing.

Xue Lan clapped lazily from the bed, her thighs still slick and spread, leaking steadily onto the silken sheets.

"Perfect," she said. "You're getting better at it, Mu'er."

Chi Jiao tilted Lin Mu's face upward with two fingers, smirking cruelly.

"Don't think this is the last time you'll do it either," she said. "You'll be tasting my cum every time I use her."

Lin Mu moaned brokenly cock twitching and leaking onto the floor.

And outside the door, the crowd still waited, still listened—hearing every wet slurp, every broken gasp, every desperate, humiliating moan.

Knowing exactly what he had become.

Exactly what he would always be.