Al spread the widow's legs wide, his spear lightly tapping against her "flower room," rubbing against that warm, wet mons pubis.
Soon, the widow's body—which the boy knew inside and out—was ready to welcome him.
Lubricating nectar secreted continuously, slowly coating the tip of the boy's spear with a crystalline sheen.
The widow's body had already begun to respond to his movements; the pink flush of lust was clearly visible on her pale, curvaceous form.
Al held one of the widow's fleshy thighs with one hand while the other continuously kneaded her breast.
A low moan began to escape her throat, the opening bass note of a grand symphony.
No matter how many times they did it, the widow's body always left Al so obsessed.
He stopped restraining himself. With a slight push of the spearhead, he parted the flesh and pressed into the crevice.
"Nngh..." The widow's body trembled as she bit her red lip, her gaze fixed on the palace ceiling, her eyes hazy.
Al's spearhead had already entered, but for the sake of playfulness, he made no further move.
Instead, he asked mischievously, "Can I?"
"Will you let me in?"
As he spoke, the wicked boy rotated and rubbed his spear against the entrance, causing the widow's moans to grow louder from the stimulation.
"Yes... you can."
Panting, the widow quickly answered his prank in a low voice.
They were practically an old married couple now; the widow had fully adapted to Al's occasionally wicked personality and his love for toying with her.
Due to her nature, she remained shy and bashful most of the time, yet she could never refuse the boy's demands.
"What?" Al clearly didn't intend to let her off so easily.
The boy withdrew his spear, leaving the flower room, and leaned his upper body over her.
The spear pressed firmly against their joined bellies, making the widow feel a massive hardness and heat, almost tricking her into thinking he had fully entered.
"I didn't hear you clearly."
A wicked grin surfaced on Al's face. Clearly, after taking a "beating" from the centaur girl, coming back to find confidence with the gentle, submissive widow felt great.
Red-faced, the widow looked down at Al, who was pressing her down and trying to demand something from her full breasts.
With a trembling voice, she spoke a bit louder: "Yes, you can."
The boy's invasion moved from her breasts to her rounded, naked shoulders. His lips kissed her collarbone and moved upward, his tongue licking her smooth chin.
The widow's body felt like it was being hit by waves of electricity. She pushed her thighs inward, but they were pinned by Al's legs.
Her hands naturally rested on the boy's back, her jade-like fingers lightly caressing him, fully moved by passion.
"You can."
She took a deep breath, added force to her voice, and answered him loudly.
To this, Al's response was...
"Eeeeek!!!!!!!"
A short, high-pitched scream escaped the widow's throat. Such an undignified gasp was extremely rare, almost unheard of for her.
The reason, naturally, was that Al had not
taken the conventional route.
"Reveler Magic: Strong! Hard! Burning! Force!"
With the already powerful member enhanced by Reveler magic, it was a weapon of mass destruction against mortal women.
With just one thrust, the widow's defenses were annihilated. Nectar and fluids secreted frantically within her folds.
The two hard red cherries atop her breasts pressed against Al's face.
He gave up holding her thighs, using his hands to press her full breasts together while burying his face between them.
"Please, please... slower, slower... I... ah, broken, it'll break..."
Saliva slid from the corner of her lips. The widow stared upward with vacant eyes as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her body.
The intense stimulation robbed her of the ability to think, leaving her only able to endure Al's total utilization of her body.
Hearing her plea—which had lost its usual domestic charm but remained gentle—the Al, having satisfied his prankster urge, felt a pang of guilt.
He weakened the influence of the magic, letting it transition back to a normal union.
He straightened up, releasing her breasts. The full, white mounds bounced back, the red cherries wet and glistening with Al's saliva.
Then, Al adopted a less-common posture. He pressed the widow's legs together, holding her ankles with one hand and pressing them forward.
His other hand reached down, coordinating with his spear to harass the widow's flower room.
After this sequence, the widow, who had barely caught her breath, was again routed.
Toyed with by Al until only a final shred of dignity remained, she panted and moaned loudly, her hands gripping the blanket beneath them.
Her red lips were parted, letting out a sound like a weeping song.
The widow's combat power wasn't great. In the past, she relied on being gentle and considerate.
Like the Goat Mom, she satisfied Al's every demand. He was unwilling to damage his "tender wife" and usually restrained himself, focusing more on the mood and the variety of play.
Now, Al had first used about half the strength he used on the Paladin Claudia, forcing the widow into an immediate surrender.
Of course, even without that, she was completely defenseless against him.
He then increased the intensity. Before the widow could recover from the heavy impact, he launched a grand invasion.
The spear was like a wicked, primal beast, rampaging without limit within the widow's secret flower room.
The heavy conquest made it impossible for her to hold out; she moaned continuously, nearly surrendering her first climax of the day.
She had been ambushed; the boy had returned to the palace with a swaggering stride, entered the rear hall, and seen her napping in the main room.
Just as she was about to wake to his footsteps, she was pinned down by the pouncing boy, leaving her with no choice but to submissively comply.
Soon, however, Al realized he was being too impatient and crude with the widow.
If it were a "tougher" warrior like Claudia or Ann, the former would only crave more force, and the latter would be rolling her eyes and drooling while shouting insults.
Neither had the widow's temperament.
And as for the others... Al suddenly thought of a new character who had joined his harem not long ago.
The New Madam... the Second Madam...
Dammit, I forgot her name.
Al briefly reflected on his increasing indulgence in lust.
If this continued, he might easily be assassinated via a "Honey Trap" used by a beautiful female assassin, general, hero, priestess, or Chosen sent by the enemy.
Such child's play! Is this the visage of an Everchosen conquering the world?!
Decision made! In the future, I must always have more people around during sex! More participants!
Set restrictions in advance so no female assassin gets the chance to succeed!
Thinking of the first night with the New Madam, who had maintained a cold exterior.
The Reveler Mom had even goaded Al to use the same method he used on Claudia and the swordswoman—heavy force and various tricks—to make her weep and spill all her secrets on the spot.
Al, with his playful heart, had refused then, but now the memory surfaced.
He thought of that cold, beautiful face and her air of casual elegance, looking like someone who didn't belong to the mortal world,
turning into a charming housewife moaning and gasping beneath him.
Being tightly enveloped and enjoying the widow's warm, wet passage, his spear hardened even further!
The widow, too, let out a louder cry.