Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 240- Bed of MILF

And he drove.

PAAH.

Single stroke.

Half depth — measured, committed, the first half of something irreversible delivered in one clean motion, and the daughter received it with every nerve ending she owned.

The hymen.

Gone.

Blood moving through pool water from the ledge — thin, warm, dissolving red spreading away from them in the current, visible in the chamber light for a moment before the water took it.

She screamed.

"—AAAHNNNN~~~~~!!!!—"

Nothing like her previous sounds.

This was the sound that lives beneath all the other sounds — the high, full-throated, real-pain scream of a body encountering the singular, irreversible event for the first time, with nothing left between her and the full weight of it.

Her spine went backward off her mother.

Both arms flung wide, reaching for something that wasn’t there, the arch carrying her whole torso up before her mother’s arms dragged her back down.

"—AAAHN~!!!—" The mother, teeth still at her chest, her daughter’s scream hitting her like something physical.

He drove the second half.

PAAH!

"—KYAAANGHHH~!!!—"

Her hands found the stone above her mother’s head.

Both palms flat on the ledge, fingers curling against the stone’s texture, knuckles white with the force of needing something solid to hold.

He drove.

PAH PAH PAH.

"—AAAHN~!!! AAAHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—"

The sounds changed under her.

The pain was real and present in all of it — you could hear exactly where it came from — but beneath it, running parallel like a current under ice, something the Yin-Devouring physique had been carrying since birth was beginning to recognize what was being done to it, the body’s own architecture meeting what it had been built to receive, and reporting that too.

The mother reached up with one hand.

Fingers stretching toward his face — amber eyes open and wet, trying to reach him, trying to get him to hear her over the teeth at her chest and the sounds her daughter was making above her.

He took her wrist.

Guided it.

Her hand arrived at his open mouth, and he put her fingers in — warm, slow, full — and she felt the heat of it close around them.

She looked at him.

"—Mmnh~...—"

PAH PAH PAAH!

"—AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—"

Her daughter’s sounds were doing something to his system it hadn’t done before — the Yin-Devouring-Body reading climbing with each first-time cry, the specific tight-virgin quality of the body around him feeding something deeper than arousal, qi-pressure rising with each thrust in a way that had its own momentum.

He drove harder.

PAH PAH PAH PAH!

"—AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!! AHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—"

His fingers were deep in the mother’s mouth now.

All four of them, stuffed there with the specific intention of keeping that mouth too full to form the sentences it kept trying to form — the please be gentle and the she is my daughter reduced to sounds around fingers, present and desperate and going nowhere.

"—Mmph~!!! Mmph~!!!—"

PAH PAH PAH PAAH!

"—AAAHN~!!! AAAHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!! AAAHNNNN~!!!—"

The daughter’s blood was on the stone.

A thin thread of it running from where she was — down across her mother’s hip, crossing warm skin like a signature, following gravity to where it wanted to go.

Her mother felt it.

The warmth, the specific thin-trail quality of it arriving on her body, and above the fingers in her mouth her amber eyes brimmed and overflowed — both of them, fully running, no holding it, because she could feel her daughter’s blood moving on her own skin and there was nothing in her body left to lock that away with.

He grabbed the daughter’s hair — head hair this time, gathered at the back, pulling her chin up so her throat opened and her whole neck bent back.

PAH PAH PAH PAH PAAH!

"—AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!! AHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!! AAAHNNNN~~~~~!!!—"

He turned her.

Mid-drive, still buried — both hands repositioning her while his hips kept the rhythm, rotating her body so she faced the other direction, and the momentum of the turn brought her chest swinging forward.

It made contact with her mother’s chest — wet, warm, the weight of it landing and settling against her mother’s skin with a sound that was soft and full and immediate.

"—Aaahn~...—"

He began moving them both.

Lifting the daughter, the mother’s legs still locked around the arrangement, pulling them together off the ledge edge until they reached the wider flat stone beside the pool — proper ground, open surface, room to work with.

He laid them down.

Mother beneath, daughter above, and his arm threading between their bodies as he pushed the daughter’s hips up — sandwiched between warm skin on both sides, and beneath the arm, pressed against his forearm, the soft and present heat of the mother’s cunt, hairy and open and making contact from below without anyone asking it to.

He began.

PAH PAH PAH.

"—AAAHN~!!! AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!!—"

The daughter’s ass took every drive with the specific skin-on-skin clarity of a tight young body receiving a pounding rhythm — the sound of it distinct and percussive in the chamber air.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

"—AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!! AHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—"

Saliva left her mouth with each cry.

Not managed, not held back — her mouth was open and the sounds were coming and the drool fell from her lower lip in thin drops, landing on her mother’s shoulder below, her mother’s collarbone, running down into the hollow of her throat.

Her eyes were wide.

Brown and stunned and receiving too much from too many directions — the pounding, the stone beneath her mother beneath her, the sounds she was making that she didn’t recognize as her own voice, the thing her body was doing that she hadn’t known it could do.

"—I cannot—I cannot—I—"

PAH PAH PAAH!

"—AAAHNN~!!! AAAHN~!!! AAAHNNNN~~~~~!!!—"

Then she squirted.

No warning, no build-up she could name — her body had been building since the first finger and had reached the specific threshold where it stopped asking permission, and it released everything at once, full and unmanaged and warm, flooding over his arm between the two bodies.

It ran down.

Over the arm, down to the mother beneath, landing on warm skin in the specific unmistakable warmth of her daughter’s first uncontrolled release, and the mother’s body received it the way a body receives heat — without negotiating.

"—Aaahn~...—"