The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe-Chapter 132: Claire and Clay’s Panties We’re Deep Blue, and They Came into View
The vibrations made the fabric itself buzz audibly, a low, wet hum that mixed with the obscene plup-plup-plup-plup of liquid being churned inside her.
Is her pussy going to be okay?
The thought flashed through the haze.
She was dripping so much—endless, clear fluid gushing out in rhythmic pulses, soaking my hand to the elbow, pooling on the floor in a wide, reflective lake—but she hadn’t cum. Not in the way that it should count as one.
I could tell.
Her body was locked in a state of constant, torturous near-climax: walls spasming, clit jumping, entrance clenching and releasing in useless rhythm, but the peak kept slipping away, held just out of reach by the sheer overwhelming speed.
She was teetering on the edge, body betraying her with every tremor, but refusing to fall.
Wait, what’s this? I’m actually going to lose?
And the little imp even resumed stroking my dick with renewed fury.
Warm saliva still coated everything—thick, sticky strands clinging to the shaft, making her hands glide impossibly smooth and hot.
One palm flattened over the head again, rolling it in tight circles while the other pumped the length in blurring strokes—up, twist, down, squeeze—each pass dragging the skin taut over the swollen crown, pre-cum bubbling up in thick beads that mixed with her spit and dripped in long strings onto my thighs.
I was seconds away from spurting; balls drawn tight and me cock throbbing so hard it hurt, every nerve screaming for release.
None of us were giving up, but my day just got even worse.
Maybe because they were feeling left out, those mischievous twins turned against me.
Claire and Clay slid off the far side of the bed and crawled over to sit beside Isabelle, with slow and deliberate movements that made their short skirts ride higher with every shift.
They mirrored Isabelle exactly: knees parting inch by torturous inch, slender thighs spreading until their laps touched in the middle.
Their blush was so intense their pale cheeks glowed bright rose, spreading down their necks and across their collarbones like they might literally melt from embarrassment and heat.
Deep blue... their panties we’re deep blue, and they came into view—thin cotton stretched tight over their vagina outline, the fabric already darkened at the center with wet shadows that outlined the plump outer lips and the faint cleft between.
The material clung so perfectly it showed the subtle ridge where their clits pressed upward, small damp spots growing larger with every breath they took.
Their legs trembled from holding the position—smooth skin flushed pink at the inner thighs, muscles flexing as they probably fought the urge to close again.
Then, in perfect sync, they reached up and lifted the thin purple bandage-tops, peeling the fabric upward until it bunched above their chests.
Their extremely small breasts popped free—petite mounds barely a handful, pale and perfect, pink nipples already erect and pointed like little bullets standing stiff in the cool air.
The areolas were tiny, flushed darker from arousal, nipples so hard they looked almost painful.
Their bare chests rose and fell rapidly, small breasts jiggling faintly with each shaky inhale, skin prickling with goosebumps as the room’s air kissed them.
Ah!
I figured it out the moment I saw Roselyn smiling through her torture—teeth gritted, eyes half-lidded, a wicked curve to her lips despite the way her body shook.
She...
{Indeed, Master: the individual Roselyn was sending telepathic messages to the identical individuals there.}
Ah, she got me. How could I not look?
The shape of their pussies through the tight deep blue fabric—plump lips parted slightly, wet centers darkening the cotton in obscene patterns.
Isabelle’s black panties beside them—seam dipping inward to hug her slit, soaked shadow spreading wider.
And their bare chests out for me—cute, adorable girls with tiny breasts heaving, pink nipples begging for attention...
I’ll be losing any time soon... But the thing is women are more sexually sensitive than men.
Hehe. I bet Roselyn would lose before I do!
[Sys! Overdrive! We’re taking the enemy down with us!]
{...I’m glad to see Master is enjoying himself.}
[Wh-wh-wh-what are you— Shut up!]
Despite that rare flash of cheekiness, Sys responded.
My hand vibrated so violently the wet sounds turned deafening—plup-plup-plup-plup-plup! —a rapid, obscene splashing that echoed off the curved wooden walls like someone was churning water with a machine.
Haha! Die!
Roselyn’s pussy was a churning mess: entrance gaping wide around my knuckles, lips flapping uselessly with every micro-second vibration, inner walls rippling in endless, helpless contractions that sent fresh gushes squirting out in fine, high-pressure sprays.
The liquid hit my wrist in hot bursts, sprayed across my thighs, pattered onto the floor in a constant rain.
Her clit buzzed visibly under the soaked shorts—swollen, red, jumping with each wave of vibration like it was being shocked repeatedly. The entire mound trembled; the fabric fluttered against her skin from the force, wet cotton slapping lightly with every pulse.
Roselyn’s voice broke completely—high, shattered wails that rose and fell in rhythm with the plup-plup-plup, no words left, just raw, animal sound pouring from her open mouth.
Saliva dripped from her lolling tongue in thick strings, landing on my chest and sliding down my tunic. Her body convulsed harder—back arched to breaking, thighs clamping so tight around my waist I felt the tremor in my bones, feet kicking uselessly in the air.
Actually, I won’t lie, I felt bad for her. But this is war.
I pushed my vibrating fingers even deeper, now three from each hand buried inside her.
Six fingers total, stretching her wide, the vibrations so intense the air around my wrists hummed with a low, mechanical buzz that filled the room.
The sound was loud—wet, rapid plup-cluk-plup-plup like a piston churning thick oil.
Her entrance gaped around my knuckles, lips pulled taut and flushed dark, inner walls rippling in frantic, useless contractions as the high-frequency tremors rattled every nerve ending at once.
Fluid sprayed out in fine, constant mist around my forearms; hot, clear jets that hit my skin and dripped in heavy lines to the floor, pooling wider with every pulse.
Her clit jerked visibly under the soaked black shorts, swollen to twice its size, the hood peeled completely back, the tiny nub dancing like it was being shocked over and over.
But... she hadn’t come yet—
