Arc 2.10: Price of Lies

The routine was down to a science now.

Kyle would show up at the Johansson house around noon, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like any other student dropping by for extra credit. They'd eat dinner. They'd chat. And after twenty minutes Eric would be doing the dishes, while Kyle would be doing his wife.

Today was no different.

The sounds of their bodies filled the small office. Kyle's hands gripped Ulma's hips, his fingers digging into her soft, pale flesh as he drove into her from behind. Her heavy, milk-filled tits swung with each thrust, drops of sweet cream dripping onto the cushions. Her blond hair was a mess, plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her white skin was flushed pink from the occasional slaps to her backside.

Slap-slap-slap.

"So anyway," Eric said from the kitchen, his voice carrying through the open door, "I've been thinking about redoing the bathroom. The tile's getting old. What do you think, Kyle?"

Kyle grunted, his rhythm never faltering. "Sounds... fuck... sounds expensive."

"I mean, it's a pain in the ass, but it's been fifteen years. Things wear out."

Ulma moaned, her face pressed into the couch cushion. "Eric, can we please not talk about renovations while I'm getting fucked?"

"What? I'm just making conversation."

Kyle laughed, slapping her ass with a sharp crack that made her gasp and clench around him. "He's got a point, Prof. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

Ulma turned her head, shooting a look toward the kitchen. "You're supposed to be jealous, you insufferable man. Not discussing tile grout."

"I am jealous. I'm also a good multitasker."

Kyle's rhythm was relentless, each thrust driving deeper into Ulma's wet, clutching heat. Her pussy gripped him like a fist, impossibly tight despite how many times he'd fucked her. He could feel every ridge, every fold, and the way her internal muscles rippled around his shaft.

"Oh yeah," Kyle said cheerfully, "like doing chores while entertaining the guy who is fucking your wife?" This was fun. In fact, he was really getting into the whole fucking-his-wife dynamic with Eric.

"I think," Ulma said, her voice breathless, "that you should stop talking and focus on making me come."

"Your wish is my command, Prof."

Kyle leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, his hands sliding around to cup her heavy, milk-laden breasts. They were warm and impossibly soft, the veins prominent against her pale skin. He squeezed them gently, and a thin stream of milk leaked between his fingers, dripping onto the couch.

"Fuck," he breathed. "These are amazing. I'm obsessed with your mommy milkers."

"My what?" Ulma's voice was sharp, even through her arousal.

"Your mommy milkers. Your milk jugs. Your—"

"Kyle, I swear to God, if you call them that one more time—"

"What? They're mommy milkers! You're a mommy, and they're full of milk. It's accurate."

Ulma's body tensed, her internal muscles clenching around him in a rhythm that told him she was close. "You're... you're impossible."

Kyle drove into her one last time, hitting that spot deep inside that made her see stars. Ulma came with a sharp cry, her body shuddering beneath him, her pussy milking his cock with desperate, rhythmic pulses.

He paused, letting her ride out the aftershocks. His cock was still hard inside her, throbbing with need, but he wasn't ready to finish yet. Not when there was more fun to be had.

"You okay, Prof?"

"I'm... I'm fine." She was breathing hard, her face pressed into the cushion. "Just give me a second."

"Take all the time you need."

Kyle pulled out slowly, watching his cock slide from her wet, glistening pussy. He turned her over, helping her sit up on the couch. Her breasts were right there, heavy and full, the nipples dark and stiff.

"Can I...?" He gestured at her chest.

Ulma sighed, but there was a smile playing at her lips. "Fine. But leave some for the baby."

"I always do."

Kyle knelt in front of her, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. They were so sensitive now, so full. He leaned forward, taking one into his mouth, and the taste of sweet, warm milk filled his senses.

"Fuck," he murmured against her skin. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted."

"You say that every time."

"Because it's true every time."

Eric's voice drifted in from the kitchen. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Everything's fine!" Kyle called back. "Just having a snack!"

"A snack?" Eric repeated.

"Yeah. Your wife's got the best tits in the whole damn university. You're a lucky man."

Ulma's body tensed beneath him. "Kyle," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "You've been really mean to Eric lately. I don't like it."

Kyle took it as a continuation of their game. He pulled his mouth from her nipple with a wet pop, a thin trail of milk connecting his lips to her skin. "Mean? I'm just being honest."

"He's trying his best," Ulma said, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern. "This situation is... complicated for him."

Kyle grinned, his cock still hard and slick with her juices. "Complicated? He's living the dream, Prof. He gets to watch his wife get fucked by a younger guy with a bigger dick. What's complicated about that?"

Ulma's expression flickered—something between annoyance and genuine worry. But before she could respond, Kyle had his hands on her hips, lifting her onto the edge of the desk.

"Let's give him something to really worry about," Kyle said, positioning himself between her legs.

"Kyle—"

He pushed into her in one smooth thrust, and whatever protest she'd been forming died in her throat.

"Eric!" Kyle called out, his voice loud and commanding. "Do me a favor and lock the door on your way out. No peeping toms while I'm fucking your wife."

There was a pause from the kitchen. Then, the sound of footsteps. The door to the office clicked shut.

Ulma's eyes went wide. "Kyle, that was—"

"Hot?" He drove into her harder, making the desk rattle. "I thought so too."

Kyle leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "I think your hubby's waiting right outside the door. Maybe you should ease him a bit? Tell him what's going on?"

Ulma moaned, her head falling back. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Fuck," she gasped. "Your cock is so good. So fucking good."

"Tell him," Kyle urged. "Tell him how good it feels."

Ulma's voice was breathless, her words punctuated by the rhythm of Kyle's thrusts. "Eric... oh God... his cock is so deep... I can feel him in my stomach..."

Slap-slap-slap.

"Go make the bed," Ulma moaned, her voice carrying through the door. "I'll be there soon... with a pussy full of baby butter..."

Bang.

The door rattled as Eric's fist slammed against it. "Ulma! Remember what we talked about!"

The effect was immediate. Ulma's body went rigid, her legs locking behind Kyle's back, trapping him inside her. Her expression shifted from pleasure to something closer to panic.

"Kyle," she said, her voice sharp. "You need to start using a condom."

Kyle was too far gone, too lost in the sensation of her wet, clutching heat. Her pussy was milking him, rippling around his shaft in waves that made his vision blur.

"What?" he managed, his hips still moving, still driving into her.

"I can get pregnant now," Ulma said, her voice strained. "You need to—"

But Kyle was beyond listening. He kissed her, hard, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. He grabbed her notebook from the desk and threw it aside, the pages fluttering to the floor. Then he pushed her onto her back, her spine flat against the polished wood, and fucked her with renewed, brutal power.

Slap-slap-slap-slap.

"Do you really want me to wear a rubber, Prof?" he growled against her lips. "Do you really want me to pull out now?"

Ulma's mind was racing. She should tell him yes. She had a pack of condoms in her desk drawer, right there, just an arm's reach away. She should tell him to stop, to put one on, to be responsible. She was about to do so, when another thought entered her mind – “It’s okay.”

They'd talked about third child. About how much they wanted a really big family.

And Kyle... Kyle was young. Strong. His seed was potent, and he literally owned a claim on her body, why would she deny it to him?

"Fuck me harder," Ulma gasped, her resolve crumbling. "Breed me. Fill me with your young seed."

Kyle's eyes blazed. He drove into her with everything he had, the desk creaking beneath them, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing off the bookshelves.

"Fuck yes," he growled. "Take it. Take all of it."

He came with a guttural roar, pumping his release deep into her waiting heat. Ulma followed a moment later, her body arching off the desk, her pussy clenching around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses.

When it was over, Kyle stayed on top of her, his cock softening inside her. He could feel his cum leaking out around his shaft, dripping onto the desk.

He started playing with her clit, his fingers working the sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced precision. Ulma whimpered, her hips twitching.

"Kyle..."

"One more," he murmured. "Give me one more."

He worked her until she came again, her body shuddering beneath him. Only then did he pull out, watching his cum drip from her used, swollen pussy.

His thinking abilities slowly returned. He looked down at her, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Ulma... were you serious? About the baby?"

Ulma looked at him, her expression shifting to something resembling a professor addressing a particularly slow student.

"Kyle," she said, her voice calm and measured. "I know you're not a grown-up. You're a teen with a cock and balls full of spunk. I don't expect any sort of responsibility from you."

Kyle blinked. "But—"

"Still," she continued, sitting up and reaching for her clothes, "if Eric asks, we used a condom. Understood?"

Kyle nodded slowly. "Understood."

________________________________________

The documentary was playing on the TV, some nature thing about rare fish in California. Claire was on her knees between Kyle's legs, her mouth working his cock with that familiar, practiced rhythm.

Mark was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing over at the scene with a detached sort of interest.

Claire pulled off with a wet pop, her lips glistening. "So," she said, her voice husky, "are you for real okay with being a baby-daddy for our Viking prof?"

Kyle didn't answer with words. He took her by the hair and pushed her back down, his cock sliding deep into her throat until her lips touched his pubes..

"I don't know," he finally said, his voice strained. "It's just... that's all I can think about now."