CHAPTER 200: SHUDDERS AND WRECKAGE (R-18)

The air in the living room still vibrated with the echoes of Sofia’s squirt, the scent of her release clinging to the dusty walls like holy smoke. She lay sprawled against the wall, a ruined offering—skin flushed, lips swollen, eyes glassy with shock and something deeper. Worship.

I stood over her, unbuckling my belt with deliberate slowness, the leather hiss cutting through her ragged breaths. I freed myself.

And she shrank. Not in fear. In awe.

Her already wide eyes stretched impossibly wider, locking onto the thick, heavy column of flesh springing free.

It wasn’t just big—it was monumental. Veins pulsed like livid serpents under taut skin, the head flushed dark and glistening with precum. It looked less like human flesh and more like a cobblestones of nightmares, a slab of meat sculpted for one purpose only: ruin. The sheer visceral weight of it made her breath catch—chest heaving, ribs visibly straining against lace. She didn’t just see it—she recognized it. The instrument of her obliteration.

"Peter..." Her voice was a shattered whisper, thick with disbelief and raw, trembling need. She pushed herself up onto her elbows—eyes wide, transfixed—staring like a pilgrim at a desecrated altar. Slowly, reverently, she crawled forward. Not submission. Devotion. Desecration.

Her hands shook violently as they reached—fingers still slick with her own cum tracing the angry veins, mapping the artery of her destruction. She leaned in, inhaling deep—the musky, primal scent of male rut making her whimper. Her tongue darted out—tentative, swirling over the weeping slit.

A shudder wracked her—full-body—as my taste flooded her senses. Then she engulfed the head.

Not gently. She suckled. Like a drowning victim resurfacing, hollowing her cheeks until they caved, moaning around the mouthful as her tongue worked the sensitive underside—lapping, nursing. Her hands gripped the base—thumbs brushing the heavy balls beneath. But worship wasn’t enough. It was time for consecration.

My hands fisted in her hair—not gently, but possessively. I yanked her head back—scalp stinging—strings of saliva and precum stretching from her lips to my cock like salval strands thick as webs. She gasped—sound inhuman—eyes locked on mine—wild, hungry, begging.

"Open," I commanded.

Her jaw dropped—obscene. Tongue lolling out. Waiting. Ready to be fed like the obscene idol she was.

The moment her jaw dropped, tongue lolling like an offering, I slammed forward. Not into her mouth—yet

. I smacked the heavy head against her tongue—a wet, meaty thwack that made her jolt, eyes bulging. Precum spattered across her pink muscle, dripping down her chin. "Wider," I growled, fisting her hair, yanking her head to the perfect angle.

Her lips stretched obscenely—straining—as I fed her the first three inches. Not slow. Ruthless. Her gag convulsed around me—gluck-gluck-gluck—throat fluttering wildly as I buried deeper, feeling her swallow around the flared crown.

"Fuck, yes—choke on it," I snarled, hips rocking, fucking her face like a cunt.

Tears sprung—smudging her mascara into black rivers down her cheeks. Saliva flooded, bubbling at the corners of her stretched mouth, dripping onto her heaving tits. But her eyes—glazed, worshipful—never left mine.

Her hands clawed at my thighs, not to push away, but to anchor herself as I destroyed her throat.

"Look at you," I panted, pulling out until just the head rested on her trembling tongue. Strings of thick spit connected her lips to my cock—glistening, obscene. "Drooling like a bitch in heat. Jack ever make you this fucking messy?"

She shook her head—a desperate, jerky motion—whimpering around the flesh heavy on her tongue. "Nuh-never..." she managed, voice shredded, throat raw.

I RAMMED BACK. Deeper. Hitting resistance that made her gag, body convulsing. "Take it—take all of it," I roared, balls slapping her chin. Her nails scraped welts down my thighs as I fucked her face—pistoning—grunting with each wet, brutal thrust.

Her moans—choked, gurgling—vibrated around my shaft. Drool poured down her neck, soaking the lace teddy still clinging to her tits. Tears flowed freely, but her hips ground against nothing—frantic, needy—aching for the ruin only I could give.

Hair laced through my fingers, I yanked her head back—arching her throat—cock popping free with a wet pop. She gasped, chest heaving, lips swollen, glistening. A thick rope of drool hung from her chin.

A choked gargle tore from her throat—thick, wet, guttural. I yanked back, leaving just the flared head trapped between her stretched lips, then RAMMED forward—deeper. Her throat convulsed around me—a wet, glorious GULCH—like flesh swallowing stone. Tears sprang to her eyes—not just from gagging. From ecstasy. Her nails dug into my thighs—hooking, pulling, dragging me in

.

"Fuck yes," I snarled, watching her face contort. Drool flooded her mouth—bubbling out around the thick shaft, coating her chin in glistening ropes, dripping onto heaving breasts. I set a merciless rhythm—SLAP-SLAP-SLAP of hips hammering her face. Wet, choking sounds—gluck-gurgle-gasp—drowned the dusty air.

Her body didn’t recoil—it arched. Hitches rocking upward, grinding against nothing. Hunger. Her free hand flew to her own cunt—fingers frantically rubbing her throbbing clit as I skull-fucked her into oblivion.

"Goddamn," I growled, yanking out just enough to let her suck in a ragged breath before plunging back—deeper. "Look at you—choking on it, and you’re fucking coming."

She was.

Whole body trembled. Thighs clenched around her own hand. Another orgasm ripped through her—violent—while my cock wrecked her throat.

Muffled screams vibrated around my shaft. Saliva and precum mixed—frothing—painting her face ruinous, dripping onto the floor. Mascara ran in black rivers through tears and drool. A glorious, ruined mess.

Mine.

I pistoned faster—harder. Balls tightened against her chin. The sight—face destroyed, eyes rolling back in blissful agony, fingers buried in her own dripping cunt as she choked—was sacrilege.

"Peter!" she gasped around my girth when I yanked her head back—split-second. "More! Ruin me!"

I buried myself—to the hilt. Her nose crushed against my pubic bone. Throat spasmed violently—milking my length. A raw, gurgling scream—muffled by flesh. I held her there—feeling her struggle, feeling her love it. Just as vision tunneled, I ripped out completely.

A thick rope of saliva and precum bridged her bruised lips to my throbbing head—elastic, obscene. She coughed, gasping, a primal grin splitting her wrecked face. More fluids leaked down her chin. She wore them like war paint—tribal, sacred.

"Again," she rasped—voice shredded, ruined. "Please, Peter darling. Again."

The name hit like lightning. Darling. I grabbed her head, fist yanking her hair to angle her throat perfectly—then fed her every fucking inch. Lips kissed my base, throat sang its guttural song of destruction.

The sanctuary—echoed with her glorious, willing ruin.

Air crackled—thick with ozone and her throat-ruin. Sofia face was a masterpiece: tear-streaked, drool-slicked, eyes burning like coals. Worship? Choking? Squirting? Just fuel. She looked at me like a demon wearing saint-skin—feral, ravenous.

"More," she rasped, voice gravel and shrapnel. "I need to consume you while you consume me."