The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe-Chapter 183: Huh...? You Were a Virgin?

Vaelora’s thighs kept squeezing and releasing around my hand, her moans muffled against Titania’s tongue, body shaking harder with each passing second.

The wet, squelching sounds of fingers sliding in slick heat mixed with their heavy breathing and the occasional whimper;

Titania’s deeper, needier groans contrasting Vaelora’s higher, more surprised gasps.

Their pleasure valve built fast. Vaelora orgasmed first; hard and sudden, her whole body locking up as a straight spurt of clear fluid gushed out around my finger, soaking my hand and dripping down onto the sheets.

She wasn’t used to cumming like that; it was probably her first real orgasm ever.

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed forward onto the bed, chest heaving violently, breaths coming in ragged pants.

I looked at her sprawled form again.

Heh.

She really had real flesh now: pink-black hair clinging to her sweaty face in damp strands, chest rising and falling rapidly, small breasts quivering with each inhale.

Her pussy was still clenching and releasing rhythmically around nothing now, entrance flushed and glistening from the release, nipples stiffened into tight pink peaks.

Her butterfly wings twitched weakly behind her, like even they were exhausted from the intensity.

"Benjamin, I want you inside me already..." Titania wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing hot, frantic kisses to my cheek, my jaw, my lips—like I was a drug she was hopelessly addicted to, and couldn’t get enough of.

I relaxed back against the bed head again, letting Vaelora rest beside us while Titania immediately climbed over me, straddling my hips.

My cock stood straight up in front of her, throbbing.

She played with it a little at first, her fingers wrapping around the dick, stroking lightly, then leaning down to let a thick string of saliva drip from her lips right onto the head.

She spread it with her palm, wanking me slow and slick, coating every inch until it glistened.

Soon she shifted her pale panties to the side with two fingers, exposing her soaked entrance; the puffy outer lips parted slightly, inner folds’ dark pink and dripping.

She pressed the head of my penis right against her vagina entrance.

The first contact—hot, slick, quality softness kissing the tip—made my dick twitch hard from the sheer idea of it;

This was the same naggy fairy queen I’d met at the summit around two weeks ago, the one who’d been somewhat broken and distant, now grinding desperately against me like she needed this more than life force.

She pushed down just enough for the tip to slip inside—stretching her open with a slow, burning pressure—then pulled back up, using the head to stir her pussy lips fervently. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Circling it around her entrance, dragging it through her folds, teasing her clit with the ridge before dipping in again shallowly and pulling out.

Each time she sank a little deeper, only to retreat and swirl the swollen head against her slick gates again—coating me in more of her love fluid, making obscene little squelches every time skin met skin.

Wait, was she torturing herself? Or me, actually?

But soon she couldn’t hold back anymore.

She started masturbating with my penis; using just the tip to stretch her vagina open, taking it in and out quickly in short, frantic thrusts.

Her body moved up and down in tiny bounces, small breasts shaking with each motion, nipples hard and flushed.

Her moans spilled out cute and desperate: "Ahn~! Ah, yes. Cock in so long, Aaah! It feels so good!"

Then she slowly, and painfully slow, pushed herself down further.

Inch by inch, her tight heat swallowed my dick, walls fluttering and gripping like they never wanted to let go.

She kept going until it sat completely inside her, buried to the depth, her ass flush against my hips.

She was breathing hard, chest rising and falling fast, gazing down at my face with intense, heated eyes... hot breaths washing over my skin in little pants.

As she began interlocking our fingers, squeezing tight like she needed the hook, I peeked down between us.

A thin red smear of blood trickled out around where we were joined, mixing with her wetness.

"Huh...? You were a virgin?" I asked, shocked.

Still impaled on my penis, she gave a small, slow nod, her inner walls fluttering faintly around me as if acknowledging the motion.

"I was reborn roughly five hundred years ago again. So my body is a virgin. But I haven’t slept with anyone before, except for my husband..."

Her voice came out tiny, barely above a whisper, each word fragile and trembling like it might shatter if spoken any louder.

Then she leaned in, bringing her mouth to mine for a kiss that felt entirely different from the frantic, starving ones she’d given earlier.

This one was warm and achingly tender; he lips pressing softly, lingering without demand, just breathing each other in.

Her tongue brushed mine once, gently, almost shyly, tasting of candy and otherworldly sweetness.

And then...

Wet droplets began landing on my cheeks.

I realized on the spot: they were tears. Again.

Titania was crying, but not with loud sobs or dramatic wails.

It was a quiet, steady stream; silent tears slipping from the corners of her closed eyes, trailing down her flushed cheeks in slow, glistening paths that caught the pink light and shimmered like tiny crystals before dripping onto my skin.

Her chin quivered uncontrollably, twisting and crumpling inward as she fought to hold the sobs back; the delicate point of it trembled violently, muscles straining beneath the skin.

Her lower lip wobbled in tiny, helpless jerks, parting slightly with each shaky inhale only to press together again in a futile attempt to trap the emotion inside.

Her brows pinched together in deep, pained furrows, creating little creases at the bridge of her nose, while fresh tears kept welling up and overflowing, lashes clumping together in wet spikes.

Every few seconds a soft, broken hiccup escaped her throat. Not loud, just enough to make her whole frame shudder against mine.

She wasn’t shouting or screaming.

Just crying in this heartbreakingly silent way, tears drenching my face, my neck, the hollow of my collarbone, as if all the centuries of buried grief were finally leaking out through her eyes.

I let it flow for a long moment.

Like some kind of sadist, watching her like this—small, vulnerable, completely open—started stirring something deeper inside me than raw lust.

It was real feelings. The kind that settle heavy in your chest and refuse to leave.