Willo covered her face in utter shame, the act of willingly undressing for a male far younger than her an agonizing ordeal. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.
Charles looked down at her lanolin-smooth skin, her generous breasts gently spread by gravity, and the pale-pink buds that had stiffened unnoticed. His throat went dry. He leaned in and took one into his mouth.
"Oh…"
A soft moan escaped Willo's lips as tingling pleasure flooded her chest, impossible to resist.
Over the past half-year, she'd breastfed Adele often, but this was nothing like nursing. Charles wasn't just sucking; he teased her nipple with his tongue, nipped lightly, and ground his teeth against it—a sensation far more intense than anything she'd felt.
She parted her fingers slightly, peeking down to see his silver-haired head buried between her breasts. In the dim light, the scene felt eerily similar to feeding her daughter.
What if Adele sucked me like this…?
The bizarre thought crossed her mind. Instinctively, she wrapped an arm around his head, cradling him as she would Adele.
Charles marveled inwardly.
No way... it's real!
He hadn't known satyrs possessed this racial trait. One reflexive suck rewarded him with a mouthful of warm, silky-sweet milk—rich and addictive. Lost in the flavor, he drank deeply while his hand explored lower.
Willo shuddered as his middle finger slid into her drenched entrance. "No... Priest... don't…"
Her hips writhed. Plump thighs clamped around Charles' wrist, powerless to stop his fingertip from stroking her deepest nerves. Tears welled—a pleasure-pain radiating from her core forced her cry: "Ah... ah! Aah—!"
Her back arched violently. Under dual stimulation—breasts and pussy—she crashed into her first climax faster than any girl Charles had teased.
He released her nipple, savoring the satyr milk's honeyed richness. Adjusting position, he parted her legs, slid a pillow beneath her hips, and lifted her pelvis.
Dazed and limp in her afterglow, Willo offered no resistance. Her body—soft as satin but with pitiful stamina—was beyond responding. Charles positioned her effortlessly, aligning his thick cock with her quivering entrance. Slowly, he nudged the head past folds untouched since Adele's birth, sinking deeper until—
"Oh—!"
One brutal thrust buried him to the hilt. Nerve-endings dormant for over a decade screamed awake. Willo's eyes flew wide, head tilting back with a gasp. Tears of euphoria streaked her cheeks.
Sister Theresa was right… fingers could never do this.
No toy could replace this bliss—this unspeakable fulfillment I've craved without knowing.
Her mind raced. She'd embraced druidic serenity too young, before marriage, leaving her soul untouched by true fire. Only demons had shattered her walls. Now, joined with Charles, she finally understood what she'd fled: an ecstasy beyond imagination.
Charles kissed away her tears before reclaiming her lips. Willo kissed back clumsily but earnestly, shyly offering her tongue. Simultaneously, he began rocking his hips, gliding through her slick, velvety depths.
He held her—this satyr felt boneless, a cloud of yielding softness. He kept a steady rhythm, gentle thrusts building pleasure in her core.
After breaking the kiss, he trailed lips down her jaw, throat, and collarbone, then latched onto her other nipple. Satyr milk flowed richer, sweeter than nectar. He suckled greedily, determined to drain both breasts.
Willo watched him, maternal warmth softening her smile. She cradled his head just as she'd cradle Adele. Even now, his thick cock pulsed inside her hungry cunt. Revived, she locked her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
But… what if it were Adele straddling me?
The depraved fantasy seized her. Horrified, she shook her head, but the thought burrowed deeper into her mind like poison…
...
Clinic
Inside the clinic, Adele stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, equally sleepless.
She couldn't fall asleep now.
After all, following her severe injury, she'd slumbered for a full day and night—thoroughly rested and satiated.
Moreover, at this moment, beyond fatigue, her heart churned with restless unease, as if something precious were slipping away unnoticed.
This sudden premonition left her utterly unsettled right now.
What's…wrong with me?
Why this panic?
Is it weakness from blood loss?
That can't be…
Really can't be!
Amid chaotic thoughts, she couldn't help recalling her mother again, gritting her teeth inwardly.
After facing death, I'd already made up my mind—Mother is my favorite person. I'll stay with her forever in this lifetime.
But earlier…ugh, why did I say those things!
I desperately wanted to throw myself into her arms, act spoiled, hold her while sleeping like when I was little…
So boring… I should've asked Mother to stay.
Maybe… sneak into her room now? Burrow into her embrace? Surprise her?
A bold thought rose in Adele's mind. Instantly, her heart stirred eagerly, itching to act.
But after calm reflection, she ultimately abandoned the idea.
Forget it… I'll save it for later. She's exhausted. If I night-assault her now, she won't rest well.
Making excuses for her own shyness, Adele took a deep breath to soothe her tingling emotions.
Tomorrow. Once tomorrow comes, I'll sleep with Mom!
Adele took several more deep breaths. Gradually, she forcibly suppressed her panicked unease. As fatigue from blood loss faded, she finally closed her eyes and sank into slumber.
Charles' Room
Meanwhile, in Charles' room, Charles hovered over Willo, beginning his forceful thrusts.
Each withdrawal of that menacing thick cock made her delicate lips bloom outward. Each forward drive speared straight into her deepest depths. His hips pistoned relentlessly—a roaring engine snarling in his body—endless power driving his male weapon to ravage Willo's most sensitive garden.
Willo clutched his head desperately, her whole body taut with excitement. Breathless, nearly mad with pleasure, the thick cock sliding in and out scraped folds inside her garden walls, electrifying every nerve. Overwhelmed, she finally screamed: "Ah—! Ahhh—!"
Her body convulsed wildly. Charles felt hot streams gush from her body, splashing his abdomen and thighs, drenching the sheets below.
Unbelievable—a land-dwelling, soft Satyr, yet her squirt rivaled even a deep-sea witch!
Charles halted, catching his breath, admiring Willo's expression in that moment.
The Satyr Matriarch's eyes glazed over. Rosy flush spread from cheeks to throat to breasts—proof of her ecstatic frenzy.
As he stopped moving, her soul gradually returned to her body. Gasping heavily, her heaving breasts drew Charles' hungry gaze.
He couldn't resist lowering his head, whispering at her ear, then gently biting her lobe.
Willo stirred slightly, but glancing down, shame washed over her—the mess below was unbearable.
She shut her eyes, flushed, hugging Charles' back, lost on how to respond. Softly, she whispered his name: "Charles…"
Charles nuzzled her temple intimately: "Mm. Willo, I'm here."
Willo bit her lower lip. As euphoria faded, reason returned.
Her feelings tangled—vulnerable, wanting to lean on him yet fearing emptiness: "What…are we?"
Insecurity gnawed at her. She knew Charles had lovers—Nidalee? Anno?—though she hadn't dared ask outright. Likely one of them.
What does tonight make me?
Lost, she'd never imagined this scenario. Theresa's nudging had made her yield, surrendering to desire unprepared. She couldn't accept it openly like Malena or Porter.
Charles gently stroked her hair, about to comfort her—
CRACK.
A cool female voice cut through the silence, laced with amusement: "Lovers, obviously. Isn't that common?"
Someone else was here!
Willo's blood ran cold. She shrank into Charles' arms, yanking the quilt over their naked bodies as her eyes darted toward the voice—terrified out of her wits.
Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating Sister Hattie sprawled at the bedside. Naked, her emerald hair cascading over jade-smooth shoulders, she smirked at Willo.
"Hattie!" Willo stammered, lost for words. "You—wait, I—how are you here?"
Charles sighed at Hattie. "You scared her."
He never slept nude—usually wearing pajamas. But Hattie had arrived first. Willo's "discovery" of his nakedness? Proof he'd been making love to Hattie moments before Willo barged in.
Just like when Anno interrupted him with Sephera.
Hattie sniffed indignantly. "My fault? She crashed in and startled me!"
Willo's heart hammered. The implications overwhelmed her: "Priest… Miss Hattie… what's happening?"
Charles flushed awkwardly, but Hattie laughed brightly. She rose, flaunting her nude curves—high breasts pebbled with arousal. "What else? Same thing you were doing!"
Crimson-faced, Willo blurted denial: "No! I wasn't—"
Seizing the opening, Hattie slipped under the quilt: "Quit lying, Matriarch. I hid under the bed—heard every gasp, watched you writhe."
She leaned close, devilish: "Saw you squirt too. Impressive height~"
Willo shattered. Sobbing, she buried herself in Charles' chest, wishing to vanish.
Charles smoothed her hair, chiding Hattie: "Too cruel."
Hattie stuck out her tongue. Charles shook his head, comforting Willo: "Hattie's teasing—not mocking you."
Hattie nodded, whispering: "Truth is… we welcome you joining us."
We?
Willo latched onto the word, shame easing. She trusted Hattie—they'd fought demons and survived the Underdark together. Battle-sisters. Comrades she'd die for.
Ears perked, she listened.
"Half the nuns sneak into his bed," Hattie purred. "Desire's natural. No shame."
She wrapped arms around Willo from behind, lush breasts pressing against her back: "Since we're all here… why not share the fun?"
Hattie's weight, her soft heat, seeped into Willo's skin.
~~~
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