Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 326 - Lying with a Straight Face
Her eyes went wide.
The newly restored eyes widened with double input — feeling him enter her for the second time tonight while seeing her own body for the first time. She looked down past her chin, past the full heavy swinging weight of her own breasts she had never seen before — and she saw him.
She saw his cock inside her.
The visual and the physical arrived together, compounding in a way that was impossible to process, sensory information she had never had available before and now received all at once.
"NNGHH~!! — oh — OH—"
He pulled her hands upward.
Both of them — he gathered her wrists smoothly and raised them above her head, holding them against the pillow in a firm grip that showed he had found exactly where her hands belonged.
He began to move.
PAH!
The flat, full sound of his hips meeting her thighs filled the room, sending ripples through her body. Her breasts swung forward with heavy pendulum motion from the impact.
She watched them.
She watched her own breasts swing with astonished wonder at her own body moving under the force of being fucked by a man — the thick rounded heavy weight responding to each thrust, bouncing upward and swinging back, brown nipples she had only felt now catching the room’s light on the forward swing.
Her own breasts.
They slapped her own chin.
The warm, full, soft, heavy tops of them swung up with each deep thrust and connected with the underside of her jaw, her own body doing this to itself.
PAH PAH! 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚
She gasped.
Not at the thrust. At the ceiling.
At its color. At the texture of the walls. At the red — the impossible, overwhelming red of Veronica’s hair that she had understood abstractly as crimson for ten days and now saw for the first time from below as it cascaded around Veronica’s face above Raven’s shoulder.
She had thought she understood red.
She had not understood red.
"AAAHN~!! NGH~!!"
Her hips worked.
They met his thrusts from below with full participation, the trained compass-needle motion of hips that had learned quickly in the last two hours and retained the lesson.
She looked at everything.
The ceiling. The walls. The shape of the light. Her own hands pinned above her head — she could see them, the living warm knuckles and fingers under his grip. The face of the man above her.
She kept coming back to his face.
PAH PAH PAAAH!
"HIIEEK~!! AAAHN~!! NGH—!!"
"Who are you," she managed.
Between thrusts. The broken, breathless need for an answer. "Who — why are you — why did you—"
He drove into her.
The words dissolved.
"AAAHH—!!"
"Who—" She tried again on the backstroke, using the thin gasp of the half-second window when his cock withdrew and her lungs remembered how to work. "Who are you and why—"
PAH!
"NNGGH~!!"
He did not answer with words.
The answer came in the next stroke. Deep and full, the kind of answer words could never reach.
She looked at the wall.
She looked at the texture of the ceiling plaster. She looked at the color of the sheets around her — white, comprehensive and eye-filling in a way she had only known as a concept and now knew as lived experience.
She was moaning continuously.
It streamed out unmanaged — not sentences, not requests, just raw honest sound from a body that had been opened and was now being worked inside that opening with full rhythmic commitment.
The sounds climbed and fell and climbed again with the rhythm of his thrusts, each stroke producing its own sound, layering into the room’s air and building with no intention of getting quieter.
Veronica above him.
On his back.
Her body draped across his back with full warm riding presence — her breasts pressed flat against his shoulder blades, her hips working, her thighs bracketing his sides, her hands finding his jaw from the side and pulling him toward her mouth.
She kissed the side of his face.
It was warm and attentive, letting him know she was still there.
Her weight on his back added to every thrust — her hips pressing downward into his back increased the downward momentum of each stroke, her body’s weight compounding his with the specific two-body contribution to the depth and force delivered to the woman below.
PAH PAH PAH!
"AAANNHH~!! SLOWER—!! PLEASE — I’m trying to — I’m looking — I’m trying to SEE—"
The broken plea carried the unique request of a woman asking a man to slow down so she could see the world while being fucked for the first time in her life.
He did not slow down.
PAH!
"NGH~!!"
She looked at the lamp.
She looked at the shape of the doorway. She looked at the texture of his forearms where he held her wrists, the veins visible on the back of his hands, the tendons moving with the grip.
She looked at him kissing Veronica.
She watched the full sideways view of him kissing her over his own shoulder with warm, easy focus, doing both things at once without any need to separate them.
His cock inside her kept working.
His mouth on Veronica kept kissing.
She watched.
With astonished eyes she saw a man kiss another woman while his cock stayed buried inside her, thrusting, while she lay below him with wrists pinned.
She should have had an opinion about this.
She did not have an opinion about this.
What she had was her pussy clenching around him with involuntary comprehensive grip, walls that had wrapped around his cock the moment he entered and had not found any reason to release.
PAH PAH PAH PAH!
"AAAHH~!! MMMPH~!! NHH~!! AAAHHNNN~!!"
The pace climbed.
His hips picked up speed — moving from deliberate intentional rhythm into harder, faster motion that told her exactly where they were going, felt with her whole body.
Her breasts swung harder.
The heavy slapping motion responded to the increased tempo, swinging higher, the rounded tops connecting repeatedly with the underside of her jaw in warm full soft-flesh contact with her own face.
She felt the first pulse of it.
His cock throbbed, held, and thickened, pressing against her walls with the clear prelude of a body approaching its finish.
She looked at his face.
With clear seeing eyes she looked directly at a man’s face while his cock reached the specific interior spot that had been making her scream for the last several minutes.
"My body," she said.
It came out thin and breathless, a real question. "You want my body."
He looked down at her.
"Every day," he said. Warm, direct, and entirely sincere. "Every morning. Regularly. Daily. Every fucking moment I have available."
She trembled.
"It’s old," she said between moans. "My body is — I’m thirty-one — it’s not—"
He reached her cervix.
His cockhead pressed against the deepest point with blunt churning force, a place she had never felt before.
She arched completely off the bed.
"HAAAAHH~!!"
His hands released her wrists.
They found her breasts.
Both full, heavy, warm, swinging, brown-nippled breasts gathered in both palms with gripping strength from a man who had been thinking about this exact spot since the massage parlor.
He pinched both nipples simultaneously.
Sharp, precise, both at once — both brown nipples gathered between his fingers, pressed, rolled, and pulled with targeted attention from a man who had already established how productive this location was.
"AAANNGGH~!! OHH—!! WAIT—!! THAT HURTS—!! THE NIPPLES — PLEASE—!!"
"Old?" he said.
His voice stayed warm and flat, treating the word as something absurd. He pulled outward, stretching both nipples simultaneously with held, maintaining pressure.
"This—" He pressed with his thumbs, circled, then resumed the full grip. "—is the most fucking hot body I’ve seen."
