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Chapter 11 by Twinkyslut03 Twinkyslut03

Does anything else happen?

Later that night

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the apartment in soft gold and shadows. Rachel stood at the window, towel loose around her hips, her back impossibly straight. She looked like something sculpted—powerful, poised, breathtaking.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her, unsure whether to breathe or kneel.

She turned slowly, and the towel slipped to the floor.

Her body had only grown more magnificent. Her cock was full now, hanging thick between her thighs. Her thighs had widened, her ass high and firm. Every inch of her was stronger, taller—more commanding. Her breasts sat high on her chest, and her eyes were locked on mine.

“I want you on your knees,” she said.

I dropped without hesitation.

Rachel stepped toward me, placing one hand gently on the back of my head. Her cock pulsed in front of my face, already stiffening from just my gaze. My lips parted instinctively.

“Open wide for me, baby,” she whispered, brushing her length across my cheek.

I wrapped my lips around her slowly, letting her in inch by inch. She groaned, fingers tightening in my hair.

“That’s it… take all of it.”

She started guiding the rhythm—slow at first, savoring it. I could feel her thighs tighten as I took her deeper, letting her stretch my mouth. My eyes watered, my heart raced, but all I wanted was more.

Rachel was moaning now, deep and low, hips moving in small, steady thrusts as she fucked my face gently.

“You look so pretty like this,” she purred. “So good with my cock in your mouth.”

When she pulled back, I gasped for breath, a strand of spit connecting us. She leaned down, lifted me up effortlessly, and laid me face-down across the bed.

Her hands spread my cheeks, thumbs stroking softly.

“Now let me play with this perfect little ass,” she said, voice dripping with lust.

I trembled as she licked slowly down my back, teasing me with fingers and tongue, spreading me open and taking her time.

She didn’t fuck me. Not yet.

But by the time her fingers pressed in—slow and confident—I was already moaning, already lost.

Rachel stroked herself as she worked me open, whispering filth in my ear, praising every sound I made.

“You’re mine,” she whispered. “And when I finally take you, you’ll never want anything else again.”

She didn’t finish.

Not tonight.

But she left me trembling in her arms, used, aching, and begging for more.

The next morning?

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