Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs - Chapter 384

Chapter 384: First Climax (R-18)
The air crackled, thick with steam and the musky-sweet scent of Sarah’s arousal. The risk simmered beneath every sensation—this was our kitchen, where Mom cooked breakfast.

Now Sarah trembled on the counter, bare skin gleaming, eyes wide and feral—a silent plea that made my blood roar.

I sank to my knees on the cool tile, the movement deliberate, an act of worship before the altar of my sister’s desire and her pussy. My hands slid upwards, gripping the smooth, firm flesh of her thighs just below the curve of her ass. I pushed them gently apart, widening her stance, opening her completely to my gaze.

The damp lace of her panties stretched obscenely tight across her swollen mound, the dark fabric saturated, clinging to plump lips beneath. The sight stole my breath—her glistening folds visible through the sheer wetness, the hard bud of her clit a straining peak demanding attention.

My sister. Exposed. For me.

“Peter…?” Her voice was a frayed thread, thick with anticipation and trembling fear. Her fingers twitched near my shoulders.

I answered with action. My fingers hooked into the delicate waistband of her panties. Slowly, teasingly, I dragged them down. They caught for a second on the slick dampness before sliding free, whispering down her legs to join the robe. She was utterly bare.

Cool air hit her heated flesh, making her gasp and shiver—a stark contrast to the molten heat radiating from her core. She was beautiful: smooth, swollen, flushed deep pink, slick moisture coating her inner thighs, glistening on her tightly curled, dark hair.

The scent of her—concentrated, primal, Sarah—flooded my senses like a drug. Clean, sweet, musky… mine. The forbidden nature of it—tasting Sarah in the place we’d shared a thousand meals—sent a jolt of electric hunger straight to my cock.

“Oh god~,” she breathed, looking down at herself, then at me kneeling before her. Vulnerability warred with desperate, naked need in her eyes.

Mine to unravel.

I leaned in, exhaling warm air against her exposed core. Her whole body jerked like a live wire. My hands tightened on her thighs, holding her open, steady for me. I started slow, tracing the delicate outer folds with the tip of my tongue, tasting her slickness.

Salty-sweet, addictive, Sarah. A groan rumbled in my chest. She gasped, hips bucking involuntarily.

“Ah! Peter… yes… more,” Her first real moan—husky, pleading.

I explored every inch, mapping the new territory of my sister’s body. My tongue delved deeper, parting her inner lips, lapping at the soft, heated skin within. I found the tight entrance to her channel and circled it slowly, teasingly, feeling the fluttering muscles contract.

So tight. Her moans grew louder, more desperate—needy cries that echoed in the quiet kitchen, each bounce off the tiled walls a reminder of our vulnerability.

“Uhnn… right there… oh, please… Peter…” Mom could walk in. Charlotte. Anyone. The fear was a cold knife, but the Taboo System turned it into gasoline, making my tongue work faster, deeper.

My fingers joined the dance. While my tongue continued its slow, thorough exploration, I slid one hand up her inner thigh. My thumb found the hard, swollen nub of her clit, already peeking from its hood. I circled it slowly, applying just the lightest pressure.

Sarah screamed, a sharp, high-pitched sound ripped from her core. “YES! Oh god, Peter!” Her body arched off the counter like a drawn bowstring.

Her legs, trembling moments before, snapped shut, clamping tight around my head and shoulders. The pressure was intoxicating, sealing my mouth to her core, drowning me in her scent and taste.

Her hands flew to my hair, fingers tangling deep, gripping hard, pushing my face harder against her dripping pussy. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t fucking stop!” Her voice was raw, desperate. “Eat me! Please!”

The wet heat of her thighs against my ears, the slick velvet of her inner walls clenching around my exploring tongue, the frantic pulse of her clit under my thumb—it was overwhelming. The sounds: the wet, slurping music of my mouth feasting on her, the frantic slap of her skin against the granite, and her ceaseless, rising moans—

“Ah! Ah! Uhnn! Yes! Yes! Peter! Peter! I… I can’t… I… OH!” The kitchen wasn’t just a room; it was a pressure cooker of taboo.

I increased the pressure on her clit, rubbing faster, harder in merciless circles. At the same time, I plunged two fingers deep inside her soaking tight virgin channel. She was incredibly tight, impossibly wet, gripping my fingers like a velvet fist trying to tear them off.

I curled them upwards, searching for that special spot inside.

“FUCK! PETER!” Her scream was guttural, primal, echoing with shock and soul-shattering pleasure. Her hips bucked wildly, grinding against my face, against my hand. Her legs tightened into a vise around my head, cutting off sound but amplifying the feeling of her muscles deep inside clamping down rhythmically on my fingers.

“Please… oh god… please… it’s… it’s…” Her words dissolved into incoherent, animalistic moans and whimpers—”Unh! Unh! Uh-uh-UH!”

I focused, working her relentlessly. My tongue lashed her clit in time with my thumb, my fingers thrusting deep, stroking that sensitive front wall with every pump. Her body writhed on the counter, a vessel of pure, trembling sensation. Sarah. My sister. Breaking apart on my tongue and fingers.

The thought was forbidden lightning.

Her entire body went rigid. Her back arched impossibly high, heels digging into my back. Her fingers tore at my hair. A guttural, animalistic scream ripped from her throat—”PETER! YES! AHHHHHHHH!”

And then it happened.

A hot, forceful flood of liquid erupted from deep within her, soaking my hand, my chin, my chest. It wasn’t just wetness; it was an explosive pulse, a dam bursting.

Her inner walls clamped down like iron on my fingers, spasming wildly as she climaxed, squirting again and again—hard, gushing waves that drenched my face, my neck, soaking the front of my shirt.

Her body convulsed in powerful, shuddering waves.

“YES! OH GOD! PETER!” Her scream dissolved into choked, sobbing gasps.

I didn’t stop. I rode the storm with her, my mouth lapping greedily at her overflowing juices, tasting the bitter-sweet essence of my sister’s surrender. My fingers pumped steadily, milking every last shuddering spasm from her core, prolonging the blissful agony.

Her thighs trembled violently around my head. Her hands fell limply from my hair to slap weakly against the countertop. Her moans softened to broken, gasping sobs. Her body finally slackened, collapsing bonelessly back onto the granite, utterly spent.

Slowly, gently, I withdrew my fingers and my mouth. Her legs relaxed their death grip, falling open slack. I looked up her body—flushed scarlet, glistening with sweat and her own climax. Her chest heaved.

Her eyes were closed, lips parted in a satiated ‘O’. The counter beneath her was dark and wet. A fine sheen covered every inch of her skin.

She was utterly undone. Shattered. Remade. By me.

I rose slowly, my own breathing ragged. The taste and scent of her climax—Sarah—was thick on my lips and chin, soaking into my shirt. A primal roar. My cock was an iron bar, throbbing painfully against my pants.