Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 203- Fatty and Puffy Juicy Hole

PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

"’WAIT — WAIT — something’s — I’m — RAVEN — I’m going to—’"

"’I know,’" he said.

His hand.

Moving from her hip to the front of her. Finding the specific, precise location above where he was — pressing. The heel of his palm.

"’NOOOO—’"

PAH!

"’AAANGHHHH~♡♡♡~~~!!!’"

The squirt came hard enough to splash the stone and his stomach and hit the edge of the pool.

The specific, immediate, uncontrolled volume of it — her whole body going rigid, the stone-grip releasing as both her hands found his forearms instead, her back completely arched off the surface, her boobs lifted by the arch, the nipples catching the air, her mouth open in the full, honest, opened-up sound of someone whose body had voted on something and overruled every other consideration.

Her eyes widened.

"’Why — why did I just—’"

PAH.

"’HNGH~♡—’"

He didn’t stop.

Nara was watching from three feet away.

She had been standing exactly three feet from the stone since the beginning — not close enough to be in it, not far enough to have plausible deniability about where she was. Her arms, which had been folded and unfolded and refolded several times since this started, were currently at her sides, her hands pressing against the outsides of her thighs with the specific, sustained pressure of someone trying to direct their body’s attention.

Preet was behind her.

The specific, instinctive formation of two women watching something: one standing in front, one behind, both at the angle that provided the most complete view and neither of them acknowledging that they had found this angle deliberately.

Preet’s hand was at her own collar.

Not doing anything. Just there. Her fingers at the skin of her own collarbone, the unconscious seeking of physical input that her body had started doing approximately twenty minutes ago and had not stopped.

PAH! PAH!

"’—AAAHN~♡♡—RAVEN—RAVEN I can’t — my belly — something in my belly feels like it’s going to—’"

Nara’s thighs pressed together.

He looked over his shoulder.

At Nara.

The specific, direct look of someone who has assessed the queue and is providing status.

"’Come here.’"

Nara moved.

She moved the way water moved — the specific, immediate filling-of-a-space quality of a body that has been given permission to go somewhere and goes there without the processing delay of decision.

She arrived at his side.

His hand — the one that had been at Gia’s hip — found Nara’s wrist. Guided it. Down. Between her own thighs.

"’Keep yourself ready,’" he said. Casually. The tone of someone giving a housekeeping instruction.

Nara made a sound.

Her own fingers, where he’d placed them, doing the specific, immediate work his hand had assigned them.

"’Preet.’"

She was already there.

The same hand, finding her wrist, the same direction. Preet’s sharp inhale at the instruction — at the casual, proprietary ease of the instruction, at the specific, intimate command of it.

Three women around him. Gia on the stone, wet-eyed and shaking with the aftershock still moving through her. Nara and Preet on either side, their own hands doing what he’d told them to do, the specific, humiliating, hot compliance of it.

PAH! PAH!

"’HNGH~♡—Raven — Raven I’m — again — I’m going—’"

"’Not yet,’" he said.

"’I CAN’T—’"

"’Wait for it,’" he said.

PAH! PAAAH!

"’RAVEN — RAVEN PLEASE — PLEASE I’m so — my belly is FULL — you’re in my BELLY — I can feel you in my—’"

At the secondary camp, Aisha’s hands came down from her hair. Found her lap. Were placed in her lap. Remained in her lap for approximately four seconds.

Then went back to her hair.

Meijin set down the weaving.

She looked at the trees. She picked up the weaving. She put it down again.

Celia was staring at the fire in front of her with the specific, immovable quality of a woman who has committed to staring at a fire and intends to see that commitment through regardless of what sounds were carrying twenty feet through tropical air.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"’—AAAHNGH~♡♡~~~!!—’"

The second squirt was louder than the first.

He pulled out.

Gia lay on the stone with the specific, post-event limp of someone who has had a second position taken from them. Her legs hanging off the edge. Her boobs, rising and falling with each labored breath, the specific, heavy, settling movement of them. Her nipples still peaked. Her thighs, wet and trembling.

He looked at Nara.

She had stopped directing her own hands. Was standing. Her blouse still torn-open, the bra gone, her boobs bare in the firelight — the specific, full architecture of them, heavy and forward, the darker brown of her nipples in the warm light.

He looked lower.

Her underwear was still on. But only technically — the fabric pulled to the side where her own hand had been, the hair and the warmth of her visible at the gap.

"’Turn around,’" he said.

She turned.

Her hands found the flat boulder beside the pool. Bending forward, the specific, knowing arch of a woman who has done this before with him and is presenting correctly.

Her ass.

In the firelight. The full, dark-skinned curve of it — not large, not small. Specific. The specific, taut architecture of someone who moved through the world with control and carried that control even here. The underwear pulled further to the side as she bent, the dark hair visible, the wet of her visible even in this light.

He reached.

His hand finding the underwear and removing it fully — yanking it down her legs in one pull, the fabric dropping to the stone floor.

His cock.

Against her from behind. Resting there. Not entering — the specific, cruel patience of someone who is establishing position and taking their time about it.

She made a sound.

"’Now,’" she said.

"’Mm,’" he said.

Not yet.

His hands at her hips. Moving up. Finding her waist, her ribs, reaching under her to find her boobs where they hung forward with the arch of her body.

"’RAVEN—’"

Both hands, gripping. The flesh of her compressed between his fingers, the nipples finding the gap between his index and middle and being held there.

"’NOW — NOW just—’"

PAH.

"’AAAHN~♡♡—’"

The sound was different from Gia’s. Lower. The specific, lower register of someone who had done this before and whose body was not encountering it for the first time but was encountering it again after a gap and was reminding itself what the gap had felt like.

Nara’s boobs, in his hands, swinging with each thrust. The full pendulum of them — forward on each impact, his grip catching them on the return, the flesh spilling around his fingers.

PAH! PAH!

"’—HNGH~♡—you felt me all day didn’t you — you felt the—’"

"’YES — yes I felt you all—’"

PAH!

"’—AAAHN~♡♡—GOD you’re—’"

"’Nara.’"

PAH! PAH!

"’AAAHN~♡—WHAT—’"

"’Your pussy,’" he said. The specific, even observation register. "’Is very puffy.’"

She went a color.

Even in the dark. Even mid-thrust. The specific, involuntary flush of being described accurately.

"’Don’t — don’t say—’"

"’Fatty and puffy,’" he said. Examining the information with the same tone he’d used for the mushroom. "’Like it was made to take a beating.’"

"’RAVEN — I SWEAR—’"

PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

"’AAAAHNGH~♡♡♡—’"

Preet, behind them both.

She had her arms crossed over her own chest now.

The specific, self-holding posture of someone who was watching something and whose body was running a full sympathy response.