--- CHAPTER 8: (R18) Dawn's Relentless Embrace ---
Arthas didn't know any intimate techniques, no refined arts from forbidden tomes—he was, after all, a virgin until last night. He just knew what felt good. He felt that it was quite pleasant to pull it out and then insert it all the way; the sharp contrast of emptiness and overwhelming fullness was intoxicating, so he continued to open and close it widely. Every time he pulled it out completely and then inserted it all the way in, he felt empty, satisfied, empty, satisfied. It was a simple, primal, rhythmic cycle that built unbearable tension, reaming his aunt's forbidden pussy with brutal, full-length strokes. "Shit, aunt, slamming back into your cunt... fuck, it's so intense, your hole's devouring me!"
The stimulated aunt was almost overwhelmed, her body trembling subtly; she had never experienced such a strong pleasure, raw and unending. Compared with Arthas, the pleasure she felt when being intimate with her ex-husband was like the difference between candlelight and sunlight—faint memories versus blazing reality.
Although Arthas's movements were dull and monotonous, straightforward in their intensity, every time he thrust in and out was a real stimulation and pleasure, friction igniting nerves. The endless pleasure generated by the friction between the flesh wall and the manhood made the beautiful aunt feel her whole body softened, limbs heavy, surrendering to the waves. Moreover, this energetic bull could thrust in and out tirelessly, and the speed was getting faster and faster, building to a frenzy, pounding her aunt-cunt like a savage claiming his taboo prize.
As the creaking sound of the big bed became more and more frequent, protesting under their weight, Priscilla's area clamped tighter and tighter, gripping like a vice, and veins appeared on her neck, pulsing with effort. It was a big challenge for her to hold back her panting and enjoy her nephew's intimacy, stifling sounds while pride swelled at his innocence taken, happiness in the long-awaited release after her drought, her body convulsing from the vulgar incestuous fucking!
Whoosh! The aunt's panting became louder and louder, escaping despite her efforts. She was so happy that she couldn't suppress her screams internally, the joy bubbling. The long-lost pleasure, absent for over a decade, was overwhelming. The tip hit the deepest spot and grinded a few times, sending shocks, empty, full, empty, full, and repeated cycles until it was completely filled, overwhelming. Ten chubby, sexy toes were tightened, curling in ecstasy, and the jade hands tightly grasped the sheets, knuckles white. The area became tighter and tighter, and even the manhood that went in and out was firmly locked, holding him captive, her aunt-pussy strangling his cock in forbidden ecstasy.
Papapapa! In the private bedroom of the prince, opulent with tapestries of Lordaeron's sigils, a drunken and sleeping mature and intellectual beauty was pressed down by a young man, who was more than 20 years younger—no, she older by two decades, the gap heightening the taboo. Instead, the two people who should not be together were being intimate at this time, defying norms. The young man flushed and rushed forward with the two fleshy legs of the mature woman, hoisting them higher, spreading her wide for deeper penetration into her incestuous depths.
Feeling the pleasure coming again, a tidal wave, Arthas didn't know how long he had been moving—time blurred in passion. Anyway, the aunt's area spasmed violently at least three times, each contraction a silent peak. He lowered his head and kissed the aunt's tightly closed lips, prying them gently, jumped open his teeth, stretched out his tongue to entangle with the aunt's tongue and sucked it, kissing passionately, tasting her essence. "It's coming... Wife... Aunt... Ah... fuck... I'm releasing for you... Aunt!" he murmured against her mouth, ready to flood her with more nephew-cum. "Your pussy's clenching so hard... fuck, it's delicious, I'm going crazy cumming!"
As release was approaching, building inexorably, Arthas's movements were large-scale thrusts every time, powerful and deep. The place where the two people connected was slick and messy, the love juice and fluid were rubbed into a ball of mucus, viscous and gleaming, exuding a fishy smell that filled the air, primal and intoxicating, the scent of their forbidden incest heavy in the room.
As the pleasure on the tip became more and more intense, pinpointed and overwhelming, the accumulated pleasure reached its peak, a cresting wave. Arthas groaned deeply, and thrust his manhood into the innermost part, burying fully, pressing the tip against it, as if being sucked by a small mouth, her depths pulling. The area of the aunt became tighter and tighter, like a volcano ready to erupt, and the muscles kept squeezing the manhood, rhythmic contractions, as if to squeeze out all the essence, demanding everything, her aunt-womb begging for his seed.
Arthas could no longer control himself, surrendering, and a stream of thick essence shot into the inner depths of the mature woman under him, flooding her. The area of the aunt was also trembling and squeezing the manhood, convulsing, and the fluid kept washing the tip of Arthas, hot and reciprocal, as if giving back in kind, their juices mixing in vulgar harmony. "Oh fuck, aunt... blasting my cum deep... it's so good, filling your cunt's everything!"
After the early morning shot, intense and prolonged, Arthas stayed for a full five minutes before pulling the limp manhood out of the aunt's body, reluctant to leave. Looking at the aunt's swollen area, red and glistening, he felt a pang of... something. Concern? Pride? He decided it was simple practicality. He used the holy light to treat the tender spot of the aunt with heartache, the glow soothing, watching it mend. See? Guardian-spec. Already useful.
The opening could not close due to the long insertion, gaping slightly, and the tender flesh inside twitched from time to time, quivering, watching the essence he shot into flow out of the pink flesh wall, a creamy trail. Beauty, sleep, and inner release—a intimate scene that reignited him! Seeing such a scene, he got aroused again, insatiable. Well, no point in letting that healing go to waste. He continued to press on her regardless and started moving again, extending the morning's passion, rutting back into her cum-filled aunt-pussy for another round of forbidden fucking. "Look at your pussy leaking my seed, aunt... fuck, it's turning me on, need to pound it more!"
An hour later, Arthas appeared in the meeting hall dressed neatly, his hair still slightly damp but his royal tunic immaculate. He looked every bit the Pious Prince, composed outwardly, though his body hummed with satisfaction and his legs were just a little unsteady. He would follow the Paladin Uther to the military camp to learn how to deploy troops and get ready for departure, strategies against the horde. The orc army had already started to sail north, their ships a dark fleet, and they also needed to go to the Brad Hills in the south to stop the orc army from landing, a pivotal defense.
When Arthas left, striding with purpose, Lady Ashvane, who was lying on the bed, opened her eyes finally. The door's click signaling safety, she let out a long, shaky breath. She looked at the teeth marks on her chest, tender bites still wet with saliva and covered with bright red handprints, imprints of passion. She was so sore and soft from being intimate, muscles aching deliciously. She had never enjoyed such pleasure before, intense and multifaceted.
Especially because he was too excited just now, Arthas thrust hard in the last few times, forceful and deep. As a result, he accidentally reached the narrow, deepest spot and stuck most of the tip in, breaching her deepest sanctum. He was already at the critical point and was unexpectedly stimulated by the pressure, tight and novel. He could no longer control himself and released directly into her deepest area, flooding her core. The deepest area is one of the most delicate organs of a woman, sensitive and untouched; she never thought that one day in the future, a man would reach there with his manhood and release, a violation turned ecstasy. The strong stimulation that she had never experienced or even thought of made her heart almost stop, breath catching. It was not until Arthas finished releasing that her heart suddenly started beating rapidly again, thundering. The peak that had not yet ended came again, layering. The two overlapping peaks made Priscilla's mind suddenly become blank, void of thought. It took her a long time to get rid of the afterglow of the peak, emerging slowly. She was like a dehydrated fish, gasping for breath, chest heaving!
"Naughty boy, you released so much and you don't know how to control yourself!" she whispered, a laugh-curse mix, fond despite the words, her aunt-body still leaking his vulgar seed.
The lady laughed and cursed, amusement bubbling, took the cup and covered herself with it, the blanket soft, and continued to sleep, drifting off. She is the queen's sister, a lady of high station, and Arthas's aunt, so it is reasonable for her to sleep here, in the prince's chambers—no suspicions raised. She was too sleepy; she had been tossed around for nearly an hour, relentlessly, and her physical strength was exhausted in the peaks, multiple waves draining her. She needed to replenish her physical strength, resting in the warmth.
On the other side of the continent, far across stormy seas, a green-skinned orc with a height of nearly 7 feet tall and a huge, long-handled iron hammer was standing at the port and looking out, his stance imposing. Orgrim Doomhammer, the great Warchief of the orcs, commanded an army of nearly a million orcs, ferocious and united. This was all the elite of the orcs, battle-hardened; in order to capture this planet, Azeroth's riches, the orcs made a desperate attack with all their forces, an all-or-nothing invasion. If they failed, there would be no retreat, doom awaiting.
Just looking at the back of the orc chieftain gave people a sense of oppression, broad and unyielding. Among the orcs whose brains were all about muscles, primal and fierce, Orgrim was one of the few orcs with strategic vision and wisdom, a leader who saw beyond brawn.
"Warchief, humans have discovered our tracks. We can't hide our attacks from their spies by attacking from the sea," Marshal Eitrigg said worriedly, his voice grave. As an orc who didn't drink the blood of the demon, avoiding corruption, he still remained rational and sober, strategic. But the fel energy still turned his skin green, which was considered dyed, a mark of the horde's pact.
Orgrim grinned disapprovingly, tusks flashing, looking at the red dragons in the sky, majestic and enslaved. Those high-minded red dragons were actually ridden on the heads of the lowly orcs as dragon cavalry, a humiliating alliance!
"It doesn't matter, let them find out. Haha, our allies will solve this problem," he rumbled, confident.
It is obvious that the lethality of the dragon is unsolvable for humans, just like nuclear weapons, breathing fire to raze armies.
--- END OF CHAPTER 8 ---