Chapter 907: Double Claim (r-18) I stayed buried inside Patricia — the thick half-length she could actually take throbbing deep in her velvet grip. Her inner walls still fluttered in frantic, irregular spasms around me, like tiny wet mouths kissing and releasing in aftershock waves. Every heartbeat of hers squeezed me tighter, then loosened, then squeezed again — a living, greedy rhythm that milked precum from my tip in slow, hot pulses. Her slick ran in continuous, warm rivers down the exposed shaft, pooling thickly at the base where her stretched entrance kissed my skin, then dripping in heavy, sticky strands that cooled slightly as they hit my balls and thighs before soaking into the already drenched sheets with soft, wet plips. The scent was overwhelming now — thick, heady musk of her arousal mixed with the sharper, almost metallic tang of overstimulation, layered over the faint clean salt of my own sweat and the lingering floral trace of Margaret’s perfume on my skin. Every breath I drew pulled more of it into my lungs until my head swam with it. I shifted my grip — palms sliding under the firm, sweat-slick curves of Patricia’s ass, fingers sinking into soft flesh until I felt the tremor in her glutes. I lifted her hips clean off the mattress; the sudden movement forced a fresh gush of her cream to spill out around my cock, running hot down my inner thighs in rivulets that tickled and cooled. "Legs around me," I growled, voice gravel-rough. She obeyed instantly — ankles crossing tight at the small of my back, heels digging sharp into the muscle of my ass like she was spurring a horse deeper. The pressure sent a jolt straight up my spine. Her arms wrapped around my neck; she pulled herself flush, so her breasts crushed hot and heavy against my chest — stiff, fever-hot nipples scraping my skin with every ragged inhale, leaving faint red trails that burned deliciously. I rose to my knees on the bed, bringing her entire trembling weight with me. Gravity drove her down another greedy inch; the stretch ripped a sharp, high gasp from her throat right against my pulse point — hot breath exploding across my skin in wet bursts. "Oh fuck—deeper—Peter—" she moaned, voice splintering into shards, nails dragging slow, burning lines down my shoulders that stung with sweat. I began to move — slow, deliberate rolls of my hips that lifted her whole body on the upstroke, then let gravity and my thrust slam her back down. Each descent was obscene, glistening art: The thick, veined column of my cock — shiny with her cream, veins standing out dark and pulsing — disappeared slowly into the flushed, straining ring of her entrance. Her outer lips stretched paper-thin around my girth, turning pale at the stretched edges before flushing deep rose again as they clung wetly, almost suctioning, to every ridge on the upward pull. Her long, ruffled inner folds — crimson, glossy, swollen to twice their normal size — dragged visibly along the sides of my shaft like wet silk ribbons: stretching outward on the withdrawal, clinging desperately, reluctant to release, only to be forced wide open again on the next deep plunge. Tiny bubbles of her slick formed and popped at the stretched entrance with every thrust, releasing faint, wet pops that blended with the louder schlick-schlick-schlick of her cream being churned. Her clit — engorged to a dark, shiny pearl, protruding shamelessly beyond its hood — ground frantically against the coarse hair at my base on every downstroke, smearing fresh, slippery heat across my skin, twitching visibly with electric jolts every time it made contact. Thick strands of her arousal stretched like molten silver between us on every withdrawal before snapping and dripping in warm, heavy ropes onto my balls, my thighs, the sheets — the sound soft and obscene, like slow rain on skin. Patricia met every thrust — her hips rolling forward in greedy, circling grinds, chasing impossible extra depth, grinding her swollen clit harder against me until her moans became filthy, rhythmic chants timed to the wet slap of flesh. "Yes—fuck me—harder—stretch me—fill me—god your cock feels so thick—" Her voice cracked higher with each descent, breath hot and ragged against my neck. Margaret watched from the side — legs splayed wide, fingers lazily tracing slow, slippery circles around her own clit, the wet sounds of her self-touch faint but unmistakable. Her eyes were dark pools of hunger, pupils blown, lips parted and shining. I reached for her mid-thrust. "Come here," I rasped. She crawled forward on shaking knees, breath already hitching in tiny whimpers. I hooked one arm around her waist, pulled her flush — breasts pressing soft and fever-hot to my ribs, thigh sliding slick over mine — then lifted her with easy strength. I guided her legs up and over my shoulders until her thighs framed my face like warm, quivering silk curtains — the skin there smooth, damp with sweat, trembling with every heartbeat. Her calves draped down my back; heels hooked loosely at my shoulder blades, toes curling involuntarily. Her hands plunged deep into my hair — fingers twisting painfully at the roots — yanking my mouth straight to her dripping cunt. My world vanished behind heat, scent, and slick. Nose buried against the soft mound above her clit, inhaling the thick, sweet-musky flood of her arousal — richer than Patricia’s, edged with something almost honeyed. A taste no man can ever get used to no matter how many times you had her... and I have only had her once and now. My lips greedily sealed over her swollen folds. One hand clamped hard on the full curve of her ass — fingers sinking deep into yielding flesh, spreading her wider, thumb brushing the sensitive crease where thigh met body. I drove my tongue inside her immediately — long, thick thrusts that matched the brutal rhythm pounding up into Patricia below. Every upward slam into Patricia rocked Margaret forward, mashing her clit harder against the flat of my tongue. I fucked her mouth-deep — tongue spearing straight into her pulsing entrance, curling upward to drag along that ridged front wall, scooping thick, creamy waves of her release before pulling back only to plunge again. Her inner folds — puffy, dark-rose velvet — parted wide around my tongue, clinging wetly on every withdrawal, fluttering visibly like they were trying to trap me inside. Tiny contractions milked my tongue the same way Patricia’s cunt milked my cock. I flattened my tongue then — broad, hot laps from her leaking hole all the way up to her clit, slow and deliberate, letting her feel every textured ridge gliding through her slick, tasting the sharp-sweet flood that coated my mouth and ran down my chin in warm streams. Her clit throbbed against the tip — swollen, hypersensitive, jumping with every pass like a second heartbeat. I sealed my lips around it — not gentle — sucking the entire nub deep into the wet heat of my mouth with pulsing, rhythmic suction. My tongue flicked the sensitive underside in rapid, merciless strokes while my lips tugged and nursed like I was trying to draw her orgasm straight out through that one point. The vibration of my low growl traveled straight into her core. Margaret screamed — raw, animal — "Yes—eat me—fuck—your tongue—suck my clit—deeper—harder—" Her hips bucked wildly against my face, smearing thick cream across my cheeks, my nose, my chin in glossy, cooling streaks. Sweat and slick mingled; droplets ran down my neck and dripped onto Patricia’s stomach below with faint, wet taps. The three of us locked in one writhing, sweating, dripping circuit. Patricia’s cunt clenched harder around my cock with every gasped confession against my neck — "He’s so deep—Margaret—he’s fucking me so good—while he eats your pussy—" — walls rippling in desperate spasms, slick gushing in hot spurts that soaked my balls and thighs. Margaret answered with keening wails — "I feel it—every thrust—shaking into my clit—your mouth—fuck—" — Her thighs quivering violently around my ears, hands yanking my hair until my scalp burned white-hot, riding my face like it was her only anchor. I fucked Patricia faster — brutal, lifting strokes that slammed her down again and again. Her stretched entrance gripped like a vice on every upstroke — outer lips clinging, inner folds dragging in wet ribbons, clit grinding frantically. At the same time I devoured Margaret — tongue fucking deep into her pulsing hole, then sucking her clit so hard her whole pussy spasmed against my lips, cream flooding my mouth in thick, sweet waves that I swallowed greedily, the excess spilling over my chin and dripping in warm ropes. They shattered almost together. Patricia first — hips stuttering, cunt locking in violent spasms. "Coming—coming on your cock—fuck—Peter—" she sobbed, nails gouging bloody crescents into my back, thighs squeezing my waist until every tremor vibrated through me. Her walls rippled and fluttered wildly, hot squirt spraying out around my shaft in forceful, rhythmic jets that soaked my groin, my thighs, the bed in loud, wet splashes. Margaret followed a heartbeat later — thighs clamping my head like iron, hips bucking so hard my nose ground against her mound. "Yes—yes—your mouth—sucking my clit—coming—fuck—" she screamed, voice fracturing into high, shattered cries. Her pussy pulsed against my tongue — inner folds fluttering, clit jumping inside the tight suction of my lips, fresh gush flooding my mouth and spilling over my chin in sticky, cooling rivers. I didn’t stop. Kept drilling up into Patricia through the peak and beyond — drawing out every spasm until she was limp, shaking, sobbing my name like prayer against my throat. Kept eating Margaret through hers — slower, deeper, worshipping licks that traced every fluttering fold, gentle but relentless suction on her oversensitive clit, tasting the sweet aftershocks as her thighs trembled and quaked around my face. When they finally collapsed — Patricia slumping boneless against my chest, breath hot and ragged, Margaret sliding down until her legs draped limply over my shoulders — I held them both. Cock still buried deep in Patricia’s twitching, cream-slick cunt. Face still shining, lips swollen, chin dripping with Margaret’s release. One hand still gripping the soft curve of Margaret’s ass like ownership. Both of them marked. Both of them stretched, filled, devoured, dripping.