Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord-Chapter 19: ....Definitely Blessed(R18+)

Stroke.

Stroke.

Stroke.

The sound of her strokes was rhythmic—wet, deliberate, hypnotic.

Her hand moved with a tender urgency, gliding over his thick, pulsing shaft, coaxing every throb with sensual precision.

His cock was hard—aching, alive—veins straining, and glistening under her touch.

She didn't stop.

Her strokes quickened, smooth and relentless, pleasure laced into every movement.

And with every sharp jerk of her wrist, her breasts quivered reciprocally—her soft mounds bouncing and tumbling with the rhythm, straining against the tension that filled the air.

Each motion fed the fire.

Each gasp from her lips—intoxicating.

'Oh fuck, she's so good...'

The thought echoed in Steve's mind as he clenched his fists, hips twitching subtly, straining not to lose himself too soon.

She had both hands wrapped tightly around his thick, throbbing length, gliding up and down with quick, deliberate strokes—like she was trying to pull the very essence of him out, one stroke at a time.

She didn't falter. Her grip tightened. Her movements quickened.

Every motion was fueled by heat, by need. The wet sounds of her stroking filled the air, blending with the soft gasp of her breath.

Her chest swayed with every motion, breasts quivering, nipples hard against the cool air. But her thoughts were elsewhere—dark, hot, and drenched in longing.

'I want to taste him.' she thought, biting her lip as her hands kept moving, stroking him with a soft, aching rhythm.

' If I use my mouth... maybe it'll be easier. Maybe it'll help him... yeah, it'll be easier, right?'

The heat wrapped around her like a fog. She was trembling now, not from nerves, but from desire—sticky, raw, undeniable.

The contrast of his hardness against her soft skin only made it worse. She could feel everything—every twitch, every pulse.

'But...Oh god, I don't want to let go.'

Her eyes fluttered shut, but even in the darkness behind her lids, all she could see was him. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes away from his glorious length.

Her gaze dropped to his long hardened shaft once more, hypnotized, drawn in by the sheer size of it.

'He's so big...' she thought, her throat tightening with a mixture of awe and anticipation.

' I have to try. I need to know if I can take him in. I need to feel him... deeper.'

She leaned forward, lips parting, breath hitching as her tongue barely brushed his tip.

And still—her hands didn't stop.

Steve moved softly beneath her, his fingers curling into the sheets as waves of pleasure coursed through him. It had gone on for a while now—her stroking, teasing, worshipping him with her hands—and somewhere along the way, it became more than just arousal. It became overwhelming. Consuming.

His cock twitched violently, throbbing in her grip, as if it had a mind of its own.

Fiona as well, was being consumed.

Her strokes became slower, more intentional, as if responding to the hunger thrumming beneath his skin.

Each deliberate tug of her hands sent a jolt through him, her palms wrapping around the heat of his cock like silk drenched in fire. He throbbed with need, and she could feel it—each pulse, each twitch—spurring her on.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, heavy and wild, catching his eye as her rhythm deepened. The soft press of her fingers against his cock was just too...overwhelming.

The feel of her—the warmth of her skin, the slick glide of her touch—drew him closer to his climax, until all he could do was surrender to the pleasure coiling tight in his core.

She kept going, faster now.

Her breasts bounced with the rhythm of her strokes, soft and heavy.

"Ohhh....fuckkkk..."

Then, with a soft moan, she slid one hand up to cup one of them—fingers sinking into the plush flesh as she squeezed gently.

Her mouth parted, breath hot, cheeks flushed a deep, aching red. But she didn't stop. Her other hand kept working him, gliding over his slick shaft with practiced ease.

The twitch in his cock turned violent. One hand wasn't enough anymore. She could feel him throbbing—too much to hold back.

She brought her second hand back, wrapping around him just in time to feel him surge. freewёbnoνel.com

And then—it happened.

His climax struck abruptly. He grunted, body convulsing as thick, hot ropes of cum burst free—spurting across her chest, her neck, as well as her flushed face.

It coated her in warmth, glistening and wet, dripping slowly down her skin. She gasped softly, eyes wide in dazed awe, watching the last of him spill out over her fingers.

Bathed in his release, she shivered—softly smiling, savoring the warmth, the mess, and the moment.

"...mmmm...."

For a moment, silence.

And then—

Her lips curled into a stunned, breathless smile.

"Well..." she murmured, voice low and teasing, wiping a streak from her cheek with a slow finger.

"That was... impressive."

Fiona slowly released her grip, her slick fingers reluctantly parting from his softening length.

Her eyes flicked toward the door. Caution crept into her bones. She reached for his trousers, gently draping them back over his hips.

Then, with a soft breath, she raised her hand to her face—warm, wet, and glistening with his hot cum—and began to wipe it clean. Slow, languid motions. Every touch still humming with aftershocks of pleasure.

'That actually felt... really good.'

she thought, cheeks tingling.

But right then—footsteps.

Faint at first, but unmistakable. The echo of someone approaching down the hallway.

Her body tensed.

She straightened up quickly, pressing her arms over her chest, trying to gather some modesty from the several splashes of cum that clung to her skin. Then—

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Creak.

The door creaked open.

Maggie stepped in, her eyes hazy with sleep, hair tousled from the night. She paused, blinking at the scene before her. Fiona, standing near the bed, lips slightly parted, chest still rising and falling with a post-climactic rhythm.

"...Fiona?" Maggie asked, her voice laced with suspicion and fatigue.

"Yes?" Fiona answered sweetly, the picture of innocence, as if nothing had happened.

Maggie gave her a lingering look, then glanced briefly at the bed—at Steve, still sprawled out, his body half-draped in sheets, unmoving, blissfully unaware.

"It' morning already. We need to get started on breakfast." Maggie said, rubbing her eyes and turning toward the hall.

"I'm coming." Fiona replied quickly, walking past her, but not before casting one last glance back at the bed.

Steve.

Her heart fluttered again. She paused in the doorway, gaze lingering. Her fingers brushed her cheek—and felt the faint residue still clinging there....luckily Maggie hadn't noticed it due to her hazed state

She wiped it off, her mind replaying every moment. And then, without a word, she stepped out, gently closing the door behind her.

The room fell into silence once more.

Long seconds passed.

Then—Steve stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, lids heavy with sleep and satisfaction. A quiet groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself upright, muscles loose, head light. He blinked, scanning the empty room. The sheets were a mess. The air was still thick with the scent of her...along with his release.

He looked down at his trousers, the faintest smile curling across his lips.

With a dry chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair and whispered to himself.

'What a way to wake up...hehe...I'm definitely blessed.'

***

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