I wrapped one hand around my cock, not to stroke, just to feel the wild, insistent vibration thrumming through it. The simple contact sent a jolt up my spine—my first real touch, clumsy and electric. Uncle Rowan gave the woman no moment to adjust to his thickness; he immediately began driving his hips forward in steady, forceful rhythm.
"Eheehh… Ahhahan ah aha~"
With every deep thrust, she moaned—raw, unrestrained sounds that filled the room and burrowed straight into me. I had the perfect vantage: shadowed, silent, drinking in every movement, every wet slap of skin, every gasp.
My cock jerked violently again in my grip; I had no idea what to do with the building pressure, only that it was consuming me.
Uncle Rowan flipped her over with rough hands, lifting her hips high so her ass rose invitingly. He plunged back inside her in one brutal stroke, then brought his palm down hard across her cheek. The sharp crack of flesh on flesh echoed; her ass jiggled and bloomed red under the impact.
"AHHHHaaaa YES ah aahh spank my ass more!"
He obliged without hesitation—several hard, punishing slaps in quick succession, each one making her flesh ripple and her body arch. She buried her face in the pillow, biting down to muffle the rising moans that still leaked out in desperate, broken whimpers. Pre-cum dripped steadily from my tip now, sliding warm and slick down the shaft, then falling in heavy drops onto the floor beneath me. I couldn't stop it; I didn't even try.
I sank slowly to the floor, knees buckling, one hand braced against the wall to steady myself. You can't hit a woman like that while she screams, my mind insisted at first—shock, revulsion flickering through me. Then the thought twisted. But she asked for it. She begged for more. Why?
Does it feel good? How could pain like that feel good?
The questions spun inside my head, unanswered and insistent, as Uncle Rowan quickened his pace. He pounded into her with brutal, relentless force; the heavy bedframe began to shudder and creak beneath them, wood groaning in protest.
"AHHHHHHHH yessss~~ I'm cumming."
Her legs trembled violently, thighs quaking as her body arched. Her mouth fell open in a silent, ecstatic gasp, eyes half-lidded, lost entirely in the wave crashing through her. Ohhh—she's really enjoying it, I realized with a jolt. This was pleasure, real and consuming. I wanted… something. Something like that. But what exactly?
My hand moved almost without thought. I began sliding it up and down along my cock—slow at first, just the simple friction of skin on skin. It felt good. Better than good. A rush of heat spread through me, tightening in my gut, urging me on. More. More.
Uncle Rowan flipped the woman onto her back again, her spine settling against the rumpled sheets as she struggled to catch her ragged breath. Without pause, he drove his cock back into her slick pussy in one deep, claiming thrust.
"Ah—w-wait, my lord, I'm still—ahhha!"
She gasped the protest, but Uncle Rowan ignored it entirely. He hooked one of her legs high over his arm, spreading her wider, then slammed back inside with punishing force—each stroke harder, deeper, relentless.
"Ahha—don't act like you're tired," he growled, voice thick with ego and dark amusement. "You're loving this, aren't you? Cheating on your husband like the filthy little slut you are?"
He punctuated the words with a low, lust-drenched laugh that made her body shudder beneath him. She answered through broken moans, voice cracking with shameless pleasure.
"Ahhahah—you're right—eeheaggga—he never made me cum so fast!!!!" She arched, nails digging into his shoulders. "Keep pounding!!!!"
Yes—break her. Completely. Make her scream.
In that instant, something primal snapped inside me. Lust flooded every thought, drowning out shame, confusion, everything. My hand moved faster now—urgent, greedy—stroking my cock in tight, rapid pulls. The slick sound of my own pre-cum filled my ears as I chased the same wild edge they were riding, lost in the filthy rhythm unfolding right in front of me.
Uncle Rowan's hand cracked across her face—hard, deliberate, no longer playful. No, this was a real slap, the sound sharp and unmistakable. My stomach twisted; this wasn't right, hitting her like that. I knew nothing of kinks back then, nothing of the dark edges desire could take. But then she turned her head back to him, lips parted, eyes gleaming with raw, lust-drenched hunger. She smiled—slow, wicked, inviting more.
"Tell me you're a whore!!!" Uncle Rowan snarled, voice thick with feral hunger.
The woman didn't hesitate. She surrendered eagerly, voice breaking into eager, filthy confession—and she didn't stop at what he demanded.
"YES—I'M A WHORE! I'M A SLUT! I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING BUT COCKS!"
With that, Uncle Rowan seized her legs, folding them up and back until her knees pinned beside her ears against the mattress. Are girls really that flexible? The question flashed through my mind, fleeting and irrelevant. It didn't matter anymore. Lust had swallowed me whole—every thought, every breath. I only wanted him to do more. Nastier. Harder. Break her completely.
And he did.
He shifted upward, aligning himself higher, then slammed his cock back into her pussy with savage, unrelenting force—deeper than before, punishing, claiming every inch.
"AHHHHH—I'm cumming! You're hitting my womb!!!!!!"
Her scream shattered the air, body convulsing beneath him as the brutal angle drove him right against her deepest core.
Her legs began to tremble again, just as violently as before—quaking, helpless, completely undone. She must have been drowning in pleasure, so much of it that she begged him to keep going without a shred of shame, shamelessly admitting every filthy need. My thoughts fractured, scattering into a hot, messy haze.
"I'M JUST A TOY FOR YOU TO USE!!! AAGAHHAHA~"
The way Uncle Rowan pounded into her—merciless, animalistic, owning her completely—was the most thrilling thing I had ever witnessed. More. More. More. As the wet, slapping rhythm of his thrusts grew louder, more obscene, my hand moved harder along my cock—rubbing frantically, slick with pre-cum, chasing something I couldn't name. A pressure built low in my belly, tight and terrifying and exquisite. I wanted to stop, some distant part of me screamed to stop—but the pleasure was too strong, too consuming. I couldn't.
She was lost in it now, utterly gone. She no longer cared about dignity, about herself at all. She wanted only to be broken, shattered, used up—and Uncle Rowan was giving her exactly that, stroke after brutal stroke.
I wish—I wish—I wish I was in her place.
The thought struck like lightning, raw and undeniable. Just lying there, legs spread, body pinned, someone pounding into me with that same ruthless force, turning me into nothing but a toy. The words she had screamed echoed in my head, over and over, sinking deeper: I'm just a toy for you to use. I repeated them silently, tasting them, letting them burn through me as my hand flew faster, the edge rushing closer.
Uncle Rowan pulled his entire length out, only to slam it back down into her pussy with mechanical, brutal force—one final, punishing drive.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Her legs seized in a third, shattering wave of pleasure, thighs locking around him as her body convulsed. Uncle Rowan stilled at last, buried to the hilt, groaning low as he came inside her, flooding her with heat. At that exact moment, I came too—so hard the world blurred. The release tore through me in long, pulsing surges; thick ropes of cum kept spilling from my cock, soaking my hand, dripping onto the floor beneath me. The aftershocks lingered for what felt like ten full minutes, every twitch sending fresh ripples of bliss through my limbs until, finally, a deep, boneless relaxation settled over me.
A soft moan slipped past my lips—unbidden, helpless—but it drowned beneath the woman's own ragged cries, lost in the chaos. Safe. Undetected.
From that day forward, my obsession with sex grew like wildfire, exponential and unstoppable. I masturbated almost every day—sometimes three times in a single afternoon—chasing that same blinding rush, that same surrender, over and over in the privacy of my room.
Yet I remained deeply confused about my own sexuality. At times I felt undeniable attraction to girls—their curves, their softness, the way they moved. But at other moments, the same pull tugged toward men: their strength, their dominance, the raw power I had just witnessed. Then, the moment I tried to imagine actually sleeping with a man, revulsion surged up—hot, immediate, sickening. The thought felt wrong, dirty, impossible. I pushed it away every time, ashamed, bewildered, trapped between what my body craved and what my mind refused to accept.
Author's Note:
Sorry for interrupting your reading. If you're enjoying the story so far, please consider dropping a Power Stone or adding the story to your collection. It would help a lot. But comment will also make my day. Thanks for reading. ^^