e-booksonline Chapter 622 - 621 - A Sight She Never Saw Before
Chapter 622 - 621 - A Sight She Never Saw Before
The thought stopped.The jealousy hit first — the sharp, hot, particular jealousy of a woman who was watching a thinner woman ride the man she wanted and was calculating her own body’s capacity. Then the hope — the particular, desperate, calculating hope that if a thinner woman could take him, then a thicker woman certainly could.
Then the shame.
The deep, burning, full-body shame of a thirty-nine-year-old princess who was hiding behind a tree, rubbing her nipples on bark, and calculating her vaginal capacity based on the body type of a commoner cook who was currently bouncing on her nephew’s cock.
’What is wrong with me?’
She breathed.
Her hand went down.
Not consciously. Not with planning or intention or the particular, deliberate decision-making process that Evriana applied to everything else in her life. Her hand moved on its own — sliding from the bark, down her stomach, past the waistband of her trousers, into her undergarment.
Her fingers found her pussy.
’Wet.’
Soaking. The particular, comprehensive, overflowing, undeniable wetness of a body that had been aroused for — how long? Minutes? Hours? She didn’t know. The time behind the tree had collapsed, the minutes merging into a single, continuous, overwhelming experience of watching and wanting and not understanding and wanting more.
She rubbed.
Her fingers found her clit — the stiff, swollen, aching peak that she had touched before, in the dark, in private, in the particular, guilty, never-spoken-of moments that she allowed herself on certain nights. She rubbed it the way she had learned — slow, circular, the particular pressure that produced the particular sensation that she craved.
She muffled her moan.
Her free hand — the one not in her pants — pressed against her mouth. The sound that escaped was small, wet, the strangled, barely-contained, behind-the-hand moan of a woman who was touching herself while watching her nephew have sex with a commoner.
’This is strange,’ she thought. ’This is — a nobleman having sex with a commoner. That is strange.’
It was. The hierarchy — the deep, embedded, structural, unexamined hierarchy that governed every interaction in Evriana’s world — was being violated. Viktor was a count’s son. A nobleman. Royal blood. And he was fucking a cook. A commoner. A woman who served food and held a ladle and wore a brown dress.
He seemed to fuck every woman equally.
Uncaring.
The realization was — she didn’t have a word for it. The particular, overwhelming, paradigm-shattering recognition that Viktor Redwood did not see class when he looked at a woman. He saw a body. A hole. A thing to fuck. And whether that thing was a commoner cook or a bull-kin commander or a royal aunt — it did not matter.
’Even if they’re half-blood,’ she thought. ’He does not care. Forget the blood of nobility — he was literally having sex with a commoner right now.’
The thought was liberating.
And terrifying.
’That’s right,’ she thought. ’I cannot just say I love him.’
The internal voice was firm. Reasonable. The voice of a woman who was trying to impose logic on a situation that had none.
’It is possible I might just want to have sex with him,’ she thought.
The admission was — enormous. The particular, ground-shifting, tectonic-plate-level admission of a woman who had spent twenty years telling herself that the word ’aunt’ meant ’never’ and was now standing behind a tree with her hand in her pants, watching a commoner ride her nephew’s cock, and considering the possibility that what she felt was not love but lust.
’Maybe I just want to be fucked,’ she thought.
The word ’fucked’ was not in Evriana’s vocabulary. She had never used it. Never thought it. The word was vulgar, common, the kind of word that soldiers used and princesses did not. But it arrived in her mind with the particular, devastating, perfect precision of a word that described exactly what she wanted.
She wanted to be fucked.
Not made love to. Not joined with in the dignified, purpose-driven, reproductive act that her education had described. ’Fucked.’ The way Viktor was fucking Dara. The way he had fucked Berenga. The way he had fucked Celestia.
But then she saw it.
Viktor’s cock.
The full length of it, visible as Dara rose — the shaft emerging from her cunt, glistening, the veins prominent, the head dark and swollen. And his balls — the heavy, egg-sized, seed-filled sac hanging beneath, the weight of them visible, the particular, massive, overwhelming reality of his anatomy.
And Dara’s ass — spread, the cheeks pulled apart by the position, her anal visible. And her pussy — completely visible from behind, the hairy lips stretched around his shaft, the swollen, dark flesh pulled taut, the particular, obscene, educational view of a woman being penetrated that no diagram had ever shown.
Her whole body trembled.
’I will die if that thing went inside of me.’
The thought was genuine. Not hyperbolic. Not dramatic. The honest, clinical, self-preserving assessment of a woman who was looking at a twelve-inch cock and a woman’s pussy stretched around it and was calculating the survival probability of inserting the former into the latter.
’How is she taking it?’
Dara was thinner than her. Smaller. Narrower. And yet she was taking the full length — her hips descending until her ass met Viktor’s, the full twelve inches buried inside her, the cock disappearing completely.
She could see the tail.
The thick, dark, demonic appendage that curled behind Viktor — the thing that marked him as a half-demon, the thing that Evriana had not known about until tonight. It moved. Found Dara’s ass. The spade-shaped tip pressed against the tight, used rim of her anal and pushed inside.
Dara cried out.
"AAAH~!!♡"
The tail entered her anal — the thick, articulated, vibrating appendage pushing deep, matching the depth of his cock. The dual penetration — cock in cunt, tail in anal — made Dara’s body arch, her back bowing, her heavy tits lifting.
Juices came out.
The thick, clear, pressurized fluid that erupted from Dara’s cunt around Viktor’s shaft — the particular, copious, unmistakable evidence of a woman whose body was producing fluid at a rate that Evriana had never seen, never heard of, never imagined.
’Wait — what is coming from her?!’
The fluid was — it was not urine. Evriana knew what urine looked like. This was different. Clearer. Thicker. The particular, viscous, slightly opaque liquid that a woman’s body produced under extreme stimulation and that no tutor had mentioned and no diagram had shown.
’Is that urine?’ she thought.
But it didn’t look like urine. It was thicker. More viscous. The way it scattered — not in a stream but in a spray, the fluid arcing from Dara’s cunt in multiple directions, catching the moonlight, falling on the moss and the water and Viktor’s hips.
’How is it — she’s taking it? She’s clearly thinner than me. Yet taking such a massive dick. It is overwhelming.’
She breathed.
Her fingers — still in her pants, still on her clit, still rubbing — moved faster. The particular, unconscious, involuntary acceleration of a hand that was responding to visual stimulation without the brain’s permission.
Viktor started talking.
His voice — the particular, warm, conversational, vulgar voice that carried across the water like a physical touch — reached Evriana’s ears.
"Aren’t you, after getting fucked so many times, still tight?"