Arc 2.5 Papa comes home

Kyle leaned back in the office chair, his cock still slick and half-hard, watching Ulma's blank face with a satisfied smirk. He'd just filled her pussy with a thick load, and now she was waiting, patient and mechanical, for his next command.

He considered his options. He was kinda satisfied now. The edge was off. But there was really nothing to do at home. Mark and Claire were out on some sort of new thing-adventure—some couples' bullshit most likely. And the assholes did not even invite him.

Kyle slapped Ulma’s thick thigh in frustration. His red print stayed on her white skin, slowly turning pink. Kyle got on his knees and put his lips to the red mark running his tongue all the way to her toes. He sucked each toe into his mouth, one by one, tasting salt and skin. Evidently, he had better things to do, than some weird couple’s activity.

He pulled her toes out of his mouth with a wet pop and considered what to do with a tranced-out pregnant professor.

"Alright," Kyle said, snapping his fingers. "Straddle me. I want to watch those tits bounce."

Ulma jerked her feet out of his hands and positioned herself on top of him, her knees settling on either side of his hips. Her soaked pussy hovered just above his cock, dripping his cum and her juices on his shaft.

With a practiced hand, she lifted and pressed it against her entrance. Her body accepted him with ease, sinking down in one smooth motion, enveloping him in that impossible, mommy tightness.

"Fuuuuck," Kyle groaned, his head falling back against the chair. "Yeah. Just like that."

She began to move, her hips rising and falling in a steady, mechanical rhythm. Her heavy breasts swayed with each bounce, the flesh jiggling in a hypnotic dance. Kyle reached up and grabbed them, squeezing the soft, veined mounds.

He leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking through the cotton pad. It tasted faintly of fabric and something sweet underneath. Her body responded mechanically, but her face remained blank.

"Say something," Kyle mumbled against her skin, his hips thrusting up to meet her downward motions. "Talk to me. You know, the whole mommy thing. It makes it better."

Silence. Just the wet slap of their bodies.

"Ulma," he said, pulling his mouth off her nipple. "Mommy. Say something. Please."

Her lips parted. "Would you like mommy to bounce faster?"

"Yes. Fuck yes."

With the faster bounce came after tits juggling, and Kyle came really fast as well. She kept riding him though, milking every last drop, until he was spent and panting.

"Okay," he said, pushing her off. "I'm done. Stop."

She stopped and leaned on to him to rest, still keeping the same blank expression. Kyle felt his cum leaking through cracks between his cock and her married vagina and on to his thighs.

Kyle looked around the office. Bookshelves. A filing cabinet. A window. A stereo system in the corner.

"Hey," he said, pointing at the stereo. "Can you... put some music on? Something slow."

Ulma slowly lifted herself, letting his cock pop-out, and walked to the stereo with mechanical precision and pressed a button. A slow, sultry R&B track filled the room, the bass thrumming through the floor. It was surprisingly perfect. Atmospheric. Sleazy.

Kyle grinned. "Alright. Lap dance. Show me what you got."

Ulma turned to face him, her body beginning to move with the music. She swayed her hips, her thick thighs flexing, her pregnant belly leading the motion. Her hands traced up her sides, cupping her heavy breasts, squeezing them together. Her cum-slicked thighs glistened in the dim light.

Kyle sat back in the chair, his cock already stiffening again, watching the show. She was a goddess. A pregnant, blank-faced, cum-dripping goddess.

She moved closer, her hips undulating in slow, lazy circles. She turned around, presenting her round ass to him, and bent forward just slightly, giving him a full view of her dripping pussy. She reached back and spread herself open, showing him the pink, glistening folds.

Kyle's mouth went dry. "Fuck," he whispered.

She turned back, lowering herself onto his lap, grinding her wet pussy against his hardening cock. Her belly pressed against his chest, warm and heavy. He could feel the faint movements inside—the flutter of a tiny foot or hand.

He grabbed her hips and rocked against her, his cock sliding between her slick folds, not entering, just teasing. She let out a soft, mechanical moan.

"I'm gonna fuck your ass," he announced.

Ulma's blank expression didn't change. But her body shifted, a subtle tension in her muscles.

"Wait," Kyle said, frowning. "You don't like anal, do you? I remember Eric mentioned it. Well, I’ll try and open your horizons a bit, you know. Maybe you’ll even try it with your hubby, he might even thank me."

He looked around the room.

"Lotion," he said, pointing. "And a condom. I think we need those two things." Kyle was unsure if he can even find anything in this forest of shelfs and wardrobes, but he was ready to being the search.

Suddenly, Ulma walked to a small shelf near the wall. She opened a drawer and pulled out a box of condoms.

Kyle stared. "Holy shit. You Viking-perverts really do fuck around here."

Her blank expression was almost too conscious for her to be in a trance, and Kyle was about to apologize, when she simply turned to another shelf and got a small bottle of hand lotion.

“Right, thanks!” He took the box, tore it open, and rolled a condom onto his ready-for-the-fourth-round-boss cock. The lotion was next. He squirted a generous amount onto his cock, and fingers…

"Bend over the chair," he commanded. "Let that belly rest." That maneuvered Ulma into a comfortable position on top of the chair. She bent over the back of the sturdy office chair, her heavy breasts dangling, her pregnant belly supported by the cushion. Her round ass was presented to him, the perfect target.

After that Kyle put some more lotion on Ulma's back entrance. She didn't flinch. Just kept her back straight and her head resting on the backrest.

Kyle rubbed the lotion into her tight, wrinkled hole, really working a finger inside. She was warm and impossibly tight. He added a second finger, stretching her, preparing her.

Kyle stepped forward, his cock slick with lotion and his own spit. He pressed the head against her tight entrance and pushed.

It didn't go. Too tight.

He added more lotion, working it into her with his thumb. He pressed again, harder this time, and felt the head pop past the tight ring of muscle.

"Fuck," he hissed, his eyes rolling back. "That's... that's really tight."

He pushed deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully seated inside her ass. She let out a soft, mechanical grunt, her body adjusting to his invasion.

Kyle began to move, slow and shallow at first, letting her ass get used to his size. The condom added a strange, slick friction that was both foreign and incredible. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, and began to fuck her in earnest.

"Ungh," he grunted, his rhythm steady. "This is—fuck—this is amazing. Your ass is—fuck—"

He was just starting to pick up speed, just starting to really enjoy the slow buggering of his professor's back door, when he heard it.

The door handle jiggled.

Kyle froze. His heart stopped. He looked up, his eyes wide, just as the door swung open.

Eric stood there. His massive frame filled the doorway. His face, red with exertion from carrying firewood or whatever Viking shit he'd been doing, was slowly transforming. The confusion faded. The realization dawned. And then, pure, cold murder filled his eyes.

Kyle's brain short-circuited. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He was still balls-deep in Eric's pregnant wife. His hand was still gripping her hip. His other hand was still holding a bottle of lotion.

"Ulma?" Eric's voice was low, dangerous, a rumble of thunder before the storm.

Kyle managed to choke out three words.

"Sex is over."

The world went white.