CHAPTER 39: DEXTER NEEDS A PUSSY

Kerry’s voice was breathy, laced with a lie so thin it might as well have been transparent. "I just... I want to help your cock relax..." Her words were sweet, almost maternal, but her body told a different story—her hips still rolling in slow, desperate circles against me, her thighs slick with her own arousal, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

I couldn’t resist the urge to fucking test her.

With a sharp, sudden motion, I slammed my hips forward, my stomach colliding with hers with a loud, wet slap, the sound echoing through the hut like a filthy promise. Kerry let out a broken, breathless "Aaaaha..... Dexter—!" just as Mitt stirred beside us, his sleepy voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Kerry..." he grumbled, half-asleep, his voice thick with irritation. "I have to go hunting tomorrow in the morning... I need to sleep... Don’t make those disturbing noises... Let me sleep."

My pulse spiked as Mitt groaned, rolling onto his other side with a heavy sigh, his back now turned to us. Kerry’s breath hitched, her voice dropping to a shaky whisper, her fingers still tangled in my hair.

"Dexter... Is your cock feeling better? We can’t disturb Mitt from sleeping..." But her hips kept moving, grinding against me in slow, needy rolls, like she couldn’t fucking stop herself.

I pulled my mouth from her nipple with a wet, obscene pop, the sound filthy and loud in the quiet hut. A thin string of saliva still connected my lips to her hardened peak before snapping, the cool air making her nipple pucker even more. "Hm.... Aunt..." I murmured, my voice rough with amusement, my lips glistening with her. "It’s okay... now... I’m fine..."

With a smirk, I pulled my cock from between her thighs, the sudden loss of pressure making Kerry let out a whimper, her voice thick with frustration.

"Aaaah..." Her body tensed, her thighs trembling like she was fighting the urge to drag me back, to force me to keep going. The way her breath hitched, the way her hips twitched—it was all the confirmation I needed. She was aching for me, her body begging for me to slide back inside.

The air between us was thick with tension, with need, with the unspoken promise of what was coming next.

Then I felt it—Kerry’s hand moved, her fingers wrapping around my cock, her voice laced with surprise. "Dexter.... your cock... is still hard... how can you relax.... you’re lying to Aunt..."

I forced my voice to sound innocent, my eyes wide and guileless as I looked up at her. "I just don’t want to be a burden on Aunt... and disturb Uncle Mitt’s sleep..."

Kerry let out a soft, exasperated sigh, pulling me into a hug, her voice warm but firm. "You poor child..." Her fingers stroked my hair, her breath warm against my ear, but her other hand remained wrapped around my cock, her thumb brushing over the slick head. "Aunt is your family now... so you can’t lie to us..."

Her words were sweet, almost maternal, but the way her hand tightened around my shaft told a different story. She was feeling me, her thumb tracing the ridge of my head, her breath hitching as she realized just how hard I still was.

Then, with deliberate slowness, I reached down and pulled the foreskin fully back, revealing the swollen, glistening head of my cock.

Kerry’s breath caught, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Your cock... is so hard... and it has become even harder..." Her fingers traced the tip, her voice laced with concern and something darker, something hungry. "Does it really want a pussy...? But you’re still a child... it’s not time yet... to find a girl..."

She hesitated, her thumb still circling the head, her breath warm against my ear. "Does this happen before, Dexter?"

I kept my voice soft and innocent, my eyes wide and pleading as I looked up at her, my cock still throbbing in her grip. "It didn’t happen before..." I let the words sink in, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with just the right amount of vulnerability.

"But I heard from my grandfather... that only a pussy can help a hard cock calm down... like you told me, Aunt... about Uncle Mitt’s cock calming down after he put his seed inside you..." My voice trailed off, my gaze flickering down to where her hand still lingered on my cock, her thumb tracing slow, teasing circles over the slick head.

The air in the hut was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, musky aroma of sweat—hers, mine, the lingering heat of something unfinished. Kerry’s breath hitched, her fingers twitching against my skin before she forced them still, as if the slightest movement might betray her.

For a second, her body trembled—not from the night’s chill, but from something far more dangerous. Her breath, warm and uneven, feathered against my ear, sending a jolt down my spine.

I almost had her.

That hesitation—raw, trembling, alive—hung between us like a taut bowstring. I could feel the weight of her need, thick enough to drown in.

My pulse roared in my ears, my body coiled tight, ready to strike. But then she exhaled, a shaky, defeated sound, her voice wrapping around the words like a noose: "Maybe we should start looking for a girl for you, Dexter..."

Her fingers, which had been tracing lazy, maddening patterns along my length, stilled. One last stroke—slow, deliberate, cruel—before she pulled away.

The sudden absence of her touch was a physical ache, the cool air rushing in to replace her warmth making my cock throb in protest. I bit back a groan, my muscles locking as I fought the urge to drag her back, to force her to finish what she’d started.

Kerry shifted beside me, her voice dropping into something softer, almost gentle. "You must be uncomfortable... How can you possibly sleep like this?" Her words were laced with something I couldn’t quite name—pity? Amusement? Or was it the faintest hint of envy?

Before I could answer, she turned sharply toward Mitt, her movement abrupt, almost violent. "Mitt," she hissed, shaking him by the shoulder. "Wake up."

Mitt groaned, rolling onto his side. His voice was thick with sleep. "W-what? What’s happening, Kerry?"

She didn’t hesitate. "It’s Dexter. His cock isn’t calming down." Her tone was clinical, but there was an undercurrent beneath it—something sharp, almost triumphant. "He needs a pussy to settle himself. We should talk to Ryan and Hina, see if there’s a girl in the tribe who can follow our Dexter."

"What? His—his cock still hasn’t gone down?" His voice was thick with grogginess, but the words snapped him fully awake. He bolted upright, alarm cutting through the haze.

"That’s... that’s bad. Really bad." He swallowed hard, already swinging his legs off the bed. "We need to go. Now. They’re probably still up—we can fix this."