Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 903

Chapter 903: Patricia’s Plea (r-18)

Margaret straddled my hips before I could sit up—weight settling heavy, thighs clamping tight around me like a vice, dress riding up to expose pale skin, black lace panties already soaked dark at the crotch, the wet fabric clinging obscenely to swollen lips.

Patricia climbed beside us, fingers finally managing the zipper to open it completely—teeth rasping down in a slow, filthy drag. She tugged my pants and boxers lower over my hips in one impatient yank.

My cock still stood proud—heavy, thick, already painfully rigid and flushed a deep, angry crimson at the head. Veins stood out along the shaft like thick cords under taut skin, pulsing visibly with each heartbeat, the whole length twitching upward as blood surged through it.

It curved slightly upward, Margaret’s manicured hands looked small when they wrapped around the base—fingers barely meeting, thumb smearing the leaking precum and their saliva in slow, deliberate circles.

They both froze for a heartbeat—staring. Breaths hitching. Eyes locked on the obscene, throbbing reality of me.

They descended again together

Two MILF mouths. One teenager cock.

Margaret’s lips closed around the left side of the head; Patricia’s around the right. They kissed over the tip—soft, wet, sharing the fat bead of precum that welled up between them.

Tongues flicked out simultaneously, sliding along the sensitive slit, lapping at the leaking opening like cats at cream—slow, deliberate, savoring every salty drop.

Their mouths overlapped—lips brushing, sliding against each other, tongues tangling over the swollen crown—wetness smearing between them, strings of saliva and precum connecting their mouths to my cock when they pulled back for air, thick glistening bridges that snapped and dripped onto my shaft.

They stared at each other and slowed.

Margaret sucked the big head into her mouth—deep, deliberate—cheeks hollowing as she took quarter of the length, tongue pressing flat against the underside vein that jumped and throbbed under the wet heat.

She held there, throat fluttering around the crown, humming low so the vibration rippled straight through me.

Patricia kissed down the shaft—open-mouthed pulls along every veined inch, tongue tracing the thick ridges, lips dragging slick trails that glistened and shone in the low light.

She sucked softly at the base, drawing one heavy ball into her mouth—wet, obscene pop—tongue swirling around the sensitive skin while her hand stroked the shaft in slow, twisting pulls that made more precum ooze out in thick beads.

Wetness everywhere.

Saliva dripped from Margaret’s lips when she pulled off—thick, shining strands connecting her swollen mouth to the head, stretching and snapping as she breathed.

Patricia’s tongue left wet tracks along the shaft that caught the light, making every vein stand out slick and glossy. They kissed again—over the tip this time—mouths meeting around the crown, lips sliding against each other, tongues tangling and sliding, sharing the taste of me in messy, open-mouthed pulls.

They looked so hot right now I was fighting the urge to come or pull them and fuck them right away.

Drool and precum mixed, dripping down the shaft in slow, viscous rivulets that coated their fingers as they stroked, pooling at my balls in warm, slippery puddles.

Then the speed built.

Margaret took me deeper—throat relaxing, lips stretching wide around the girth—until her nose brushed my pubic bone, throat convulsing around the head in rhythmic swallows.

She held there—gagging softly, eyes watering—then pulled off slow, strings of spit and precum connecting her lips to the crown in long, glistening ropes.

Patricia dove in immediately—fast now—sucking hard, head bobbing in quick, needy pulls that made wet, filthy gluck-gluck-gluck sounds fill the room. Spit bubbled at the corners of her mouth, ran in rivulets down her chin, dripped onto my balls in warm splatters.

They were messy.

Gloriously, shamelessly messy MILFs.

Precum leaked steadily now—each hard suck drawing fresh beads that they lapped up like it was nectar, tongues flicking the slit in rapid flutters.

I groaned—low, guttural—head falling back against the pillow, hips lifting involuntarily to chase the wet heat.

Patricia’s mouth was still on me—sucking slow now, tongue swirling around the head like she was savoring every drop, every pulse.

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