CHAPTER 19: JUST THE TIP

"And the others—the kids, the people in the tribe—if they ever found out?" Her voice turned distant, like she was already seeing the consequences unfold. "They’d call you sick. Pathetic. They’d bully you for fucking a woman like me... a woman who’s already been claimed. Already dirty."

My mind raced. Wait—did that mean...?

Could I fuck Kerry in front of Mitt? Let him watch as his woman took my cock, as I stole what was his?

The thought sent a white-hot jolt straight to my balls, my cock jerking violently in her grip.

"Aah—!" Kerry gasped, her fingers clamping around my cock as it pulsed against her palm. "Why does it keep doing that?" She stared, mesmerized, as pre-cum dripped from the tip, her dark eyes wide with fascination. "It’s like it’s... begging for something..."

And then it hit me—this world, this primitive world, where a woman’s worth was tied to her purity. Her virginity. Her loyalty to one man.

The rules of this world were simple: once a man claimed a woman, she was his. Not because of love, not because of respect—because she was used. Soiled.

A vessel that had already been filled, stretched, and left dripping with another man’s seed. And once that happened? No one else would touch her. Not out of morality, but because she was tainted. Worthless.

And that?

That was fucking perfect.

Because the women they called dirty—the ones cast aside, whispered about, the ones who carried the stench of another man’s lust—those were the ones who would crawl to me.

Who would beg for my cock. Who would spread their legs in front of their husbands, their brothers, their sons, and let me ruin them all over again?

Kerry’s breath hitched as she stared at me, her dark eyes wide with conflict, her fingers still wrapped around my throbbing cock. The tip was slick with pre-cum, leaking like a fucking faucet, desperate for release.

"Dexter..." Her voice was unsteady, her grip tightening just enough to make me groan. "Do you still want it? Do you still want to put your cock inside me?"

I should have nodded. I should have begged. But before I could, she shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"It’s better that you understand...." Her voice was firm, but I heard the tremor beneath it—the way her throat tightened, the way her fingers twitched around my cock.

"I won’t let you throw your life away for a dirty woman like me. In a few years, you’ll have your own woman. " She cut herself off, her cheeks flushing darker.

I whimpered, my voice cracking with fake innocence, my hips bucking upward, forcing my cock to twitch in her grip. "Aaaah—Aunt—it hurts..."

I gasped, my free hand clutching at her wrist, guiding her to stroke me slower, harder, my balls already drawn up tight with need. "Please, just—just put it in. Just the tip."

"No." Her voice was sharp, final. "I won’t be the reason they despise and cast you out. The reason they beat you, or worse." Her thumb swiped over my leaking slit, smearing the pre-cum down my shaft, her touch maddeningly slow. "You don’t understand what they’d do to you if they found out."

I did understand.

And I didn’t care.

Because the thought of them knowing—the thought of Mitt watching as I split his wife open, as I pumped her full of my cum while he seethed—it made my cock throb, made my balls ache with the need to breed her.

But Kerry was stubborn. She was scared.

So I changed my approach.

"Aunt Kerry..." I whispered, my voice trembling, my fingers sliding up her arm, gripping her shoulder. "Then just... use your mouth like before?" I shifted my hips, my cock jerking against her palm. "I—I can’t wait anymore. It hurts so bad. Please, I just need—"

For a second, she hesitated. Her lips parted, her breath coming faster, her eyes flickering down to where her fingers still stroked me. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Kerry leaned in, her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she spat—a thick, obscene glob of saliva landing right on my cockhead, dripping down my cock.

"You said my saliva could heal it, right?" she murmured, her voice thick with something dark—shame, maybe, or hunger. "So let’s see if it works."

And then her lips wrapped around me.

"Fuuuck—!" The word tore out of me as her mouth stretched wide, her tongue pressing flat against the underside of my cock, her nose bumping against my skin with every breath she took.

She was sloppy, her saliva dripping down my balls, her lips struggling to take me all the way. But she didn’t stop. She hollowed her cheeks, her head bobbing just enough to make my toes curl, her free hand squeezing the base of my cock like she was trying to milk me dry.

It wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

"Aunt—! Nnngh—! Fuck, your mouth—" My fingers tangled in her hair, my hips jerking upward, forcing myself deeper. She gagged, her throat convulsing around my tip, and the sound—that wet, choking sound—sent a jolt straight to my balls.

She tried to pull back, but I wasn’t letting her.

"You said you’d help me," I panted, my voice rough, my grip tightening. "So take it."

And then I moved.

A guttural growl tore from my chest as I lost control.

With a single, violent shove, I sent Kerry crashing backward, her shoulders slamming against the cold, unyielding stone of the bed. Her head lolled back, her throat exposed, her lips parting in a silent gasp—begging for it.

My cock, already slick with her spit and pre-cum, plunged deep into her mouth, her lips stretching obscenely around the base as I fucked her face—not gentle, not hesitant, but hard, ruthless, my hips pistoning like I was trying to break her.

"Mmmph—! Nnngh—!"

Her gagging was music, her throat convulsing around my tip as I bottomed out, my balls slapping against her chin with every brutal thrust. Tears welled in her eyes, dripping down her temples as she struggled to breathe. But she didn’t push me away. She didn’t fight.