Chapter 1 Ruined by Vultrimite Dick
Synopsis:
After Nolan's betrayal, Debbie's body is left ruined by the memory of Viltrumite cock — stretched, wrecked, and addicted to a thickness and power no human could ever replace. No man on Earth could fuck her right, no toy could fill the gaping emptiness he left behind.
Now, alone with Mark burning with the same brutal Viltrumite hunger same as his father, Debbie's starving pussy knows exactly what it needs.
Chapter 1
The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the blinds of Mark Grayson's bedroom, casting pale stripes across the floor. His eyes fluttered open, but the warmth of the sun didn't reach the cold weight pressing on his chest. The bruises along his ribs were fading; his body was healing faster than he'd expected, but his mind was anything but calm.
He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck where the ache from the fight with his father still lingered — Nolan. Nolan was gone. Left Earth. Walked away from everything, from him. The betrayal stung deeper than any physical wound he'd ever taken.
His gaze fell on his phone lying on the nightstand. Amber had sent a message hours ago: Hope you're okay. Call me when you want to talk. Mark wanted to call her back—God, how badly—but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he shoved the phone into his pocket and dressed for school, moving through the motions like a ghost.
At high school, the hallways buzzed with life — laughter, slamming lockers, and gossip flowing like electricity. But to Mark, it all felt like background noise in a dream he couldn't wake from. Everyone still looked at him like he was some kind of savior — the kid who saved the planet — but inside, he was a storm barely held together by skin.
His powers, once a badge of honor, now felt like chains. The strength that could crush mountains, the speed that blurred time — and yet all of it left him with unbearable weight. A loneliness that gnawed at him in quiet moments. A confusion that didn't ease, even with answers.
He was back at school — physically. But the version of Mark who used to walk these halls was gone.
"Hey," Amber said gently, her voice cutting through the fog as she fell into step beside him. Her hand brushed his, fingers finding his palm and squeezing. "You okay?"
Mark glanced at her, managing a tired smile. "Yeah. Just… fine."
Amber didn't push. She never did. Since getting back together, she'd stopped expecting him to have it all together. She was just there, grounding him in a way no one else could.
William joined them from the other hallway, a crooked grin on his face. "Look who finally stopped sulking and showed up for the first period."
Mark snorted. "Didn't think anyone missed me."
"Please. You're the only reason math class doesn't put me in a coma," William joked, then hesitated. "Seriously though, good to have you back, man."
The words meant more than Mark expected.
Still, he could feel it — the stares. The whispers behind lockers. He wasn't just a guy at school anymore. He was Invincible. He was Nolan Grayson's son. And no one knew how to treat him. Not really.
Amber drifted closer, her shoulder brushing against his — a feather-light touch, but it hit Mark like a fucking hammer. His heart stuttered, his breath hitched, and when he glanced sideways, he caught the look in her eyes — soft, worried, warm.
Warm enough to wreck him.
Her fingers slipped between his, squeezing gently. Mark squeezed back, rougher than he meant to, needing that anchor more than air.
The storm inside him kept roaring — grief, rage, need — thrumming through his muscles, his veins, his bones. It wasn't just emotional anymore. It was physical, animal, and violent. His whole body was burning from the inside out.
Especially his cock. Aching in his jeans like it was trying to burst free.
His Viltrumite biology didn't let him forget it. Human limits didn't apply to him anymore. No matter how hard he trained, how far he flew, how many asteroids he shattered with bleeding knuckles, the need stayed.
Jerking off barely scratched the surface. A rough, furious hand yanked at his cock late at night, biting down on a pillow so he didn't wake the whole damn neighborhood. Hot ropes of cum splattering across his stomach, his hand, his sheets — but it never made the erection go away.
It just pissed him off more.
Because it wasn't just orgasm he needed. It was her.
Amber.
Her skin. Her scent. The slick, clenching heat of her pussy walls wrapped tight around his cock. Her nails dug into his back. Her voice broke apart when he shoved every thick, throbbing inch inside her, stretching her, filling her until she couldn't take any more — but did anyway.
After everything — the blood, the lies, the broken bones, and broken hearts — she had taken him back.
Held him. Kissed him.
Loved him.
But she wasn't ready to fuck him. Not yet.
When the kisses deepened, when his hands started roaming, she would pull away, trembling, whispering, "Not yet, Mark." And he let her. Of course, he did. Because he loved her.
But love didn't elevate lust. It just fucking starved it.
Sometimes he looked at her and his vision went white-hot. Like he could tear down the fucking sky just to get at her. Like he could rip her clothes off right there, bend her over the nearest table, and pound into her until the whole goddamn city heard her scream his name.
Sometimes the fantasy hit so hard it made his cock throb painfully against his zipper. Made his balls ache, swollen and tight, desperate for release.
He clenched his fists now, nails carving crescents into his palms, forcing himself to stay still, to stay sane.
I can't keep doing this.
He forced himself to step outside into the fresh air, gulping it down like water, as it could somehow cool the fire raging inside him.
Threw out lazy jokes. Smiled when someone waved.
But the smile was hollow, ready to crack if anyone looked too closely.
Because inside, Mark Grayson was breaking.
And he wasn't the only one.
Across town, Debbie slouched on the living room couch, the third glass of wine dangling from numb fingers. The room flickered dimly with the mindless drone of the TV, but she barely saw it. Barely felt the warmth of the wine sliding down her throat.
He was gone, and the emptiness he left behind was unbearable. Nolan had ruined her, carved her pussy to crave him, and reshaped her body into a vessel that only he could fill. No one else could reach the aching, needy depths he had claimed. No human, no toy, no desperate fingers could stretch her the way he had, could silence the relentless throbbing between her legs.
Her pussy clenched at the memory of his cock, slick and wanting, even as her heart recoiled. She hated it—the way her body still betrayed her, aching for the brutal force of his dominance, the punishing stretch of his cock, the savage rhythm that once left her shattered and soothed all at once.
Nothing else satisfied.
No matter how deep she fucked herself with her fingers, no matter how many times she tried to grind the hunger out of her clit, it wasn't enough. It never was. Her body remembered what it needed: to be filled, used, and bred.
She didn't miss him. She missed the way he fucked her.
Missed the brutal, mindless surrender he forced from her, the way he came inside her so deep she swore she could still feel it leaking out long after he was done.
Now she was just hollow. Raw. Soaking wet for a man she hated—and still needed.
And that was the cruelest part of all.
The betrayal — Nolan's lies, his abandonment — chewed through her every goddamn day like acid in her veins. No matter how much she drank, no matter how angry she got, it never silenced the memories that crawled up from her throbbing clit at night.
Memories of being owned.
Nolan hadn't just fucked her. He'd taken her. Bent her over every surface in their house, thrust into her with that massive cock until she was crying, gasping, drooling down her chin, barely able to stay standing.
He hadn't needed to call her his pet — but he did. Over and over again, in that low, commanding growl that made her pussy gush instantly, helplessly.
"You're mine, pet. You'll take all of it."
And she had. She fucking loved it.
No one knew how deep it went. No one knew how Debbie had begged — please, harder, don't stop, God... more... I'll take it, just don't stop— as he split her open, her tight little cunt struggled to swallow down every brutal inch. How her pussy ached for days afterward, how she wore the bruises and bite marks like dirty little love letters only she could see.
God, he used to tear her apart.
Nolan would fuck her face until her mascara ran until spit and tears streamed down her cheeks. He'd choke her, spank her, hold her down with one heavy Viltrumite hand pinning both her wrists over her head, ramming into her like he was trying to breed her.
And she'd let him. Hell, she was addicted to it.
That cock — that monstrous, merciless cock — stretched her so wide it hurt, every savage thrust punching the air from her lungs. And when he finally came, roaring into her pussy, pouring filthy, molten heat so deep inside her she could feel it dripping down her thighs after... she never felt more alive.
Now? Now she was just empty.
The sheets were cold. The bed smelled like nobody. And her cunt — soaked, throbbing, useless — clenched around nothing, desperate for something that wasn't there anymore.
She belonged to him once. Now she belonged to nothing but the endless ache he left inside her — a broken pet, waiting for a master who wasn't coming back.
And God help her... part of her still wanted him to.
Her vibrator drawer remained open, a glaring reminder of what she reached for but could never replace. None of those plastic toys could compare to what she'd lost — to the overwhelming, electric pulse of being truly wanted, truly desired by a man like Nolan. She hated that part of herself that still craved it, even as she hated him for walking away.
Her mind unraveled, torn between seething rage and a filthy, aching need for cock, a brutal hunger clawing at her empty, used-up pussy.
That night, the wine dulled the worst of Debbie's sorrow. Half-drunk, stumbling toward her bedroom, she heard it — faint at first. A sharp gasp. A low, broken groan.
Mark.
Her heart skipped. Worry pulled her forward before her brain could catch up. She knocked softly at his door, voice low and thick, "Mark?"
No answer. Just another soft, guttural noise.
Biting her lip, she turned the knob and cracked the door open.
And froze.
The breath hitched in her throat, wine burning in her blood as she took in the sight inside.
Mark lay sprawled across his bed — naked, sweat-slicked, every muscle taut and straining. His fist worked furiously over the thick, throbbing length of his cock — God, it was huge — each stroke rough and desperate, like he was fighting a losing battle.
His hips bucked helplessly, his abs flexing with every ragged breath, and his teeth bared in frustration.
And then she heard it — low, feral, broken from his mouth, "Fuck… Amber… should be fucking that fat ass, not my fucking hand…"
Debbie's knees wobbled, her body trembling as a rush of heat coursed between her legs. Her pussy grew wet with desire, slick and aching, betraying her desperate craving for the cock in front of her.
Then Mark came with a roar, thick jets of white cum blasting from his cock in powerful, almost violent spurts — high enough to splatter against his chest and nearly reach the ceiling.
Debbie stood frozen, her hand clenching the doorframe hard enough that her knuckles turned white.
She should turn away. Should slam the door shut and pretend she hadn't seen.
She should.
But her pussy betrayed her.
The sight of him — was everything she desired and needed — burned itself into her brain.
Every trembling breath. Every shuddering twitch of his hips. Every drop of cum glistening on his abs.
Her mouth went dry. Her panties soaked through in seconds. Her heart pounded so loud she thought it might shake the walls.
God help her, she wanted to walk into that room.
She wanted to crawl onto the bed, straddle him, and sink down onto that thick, heavy cock — guide it home, right where it fucking belonged — buried balls-deep inside her soaked pussy, stretching her open, battering against her womb with every desperate thrust, filling her so completely she wouldn't be able to do anything but scream as she cummed.
She wanted it. Wanted his cock.
Instead, with every ounce of morality she had left, Debbie silently pulled the door shut — inch by agonizing inch — until it clicked closed.
Then she stumbled back down the hallway, her thighs clenching, her breath coming in hot, shallow gasps.
The storm inside her wasn't grief anymore. It was filthy, desperate hunger for her son's cock now.
And she knew — deep down, in a place she'd never admit out loud — that it was only a matter of time before she broke.
Before they broke.
Once inside the sanctuary of her room, Debbie collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving, heart pounding, every nerve raw. The image behind her eyelids wouldn't leave her — Mark, naked stroking his massive cock, thick veins straining, every ragged breath dripping with need. The way he groaned Amber's name, the way his whole body bucked when he came — it wasn't just burned into her mind. It was scorched into her skin, soaked between her thighs, etched deep into the marrow of her bones.
Her hands shook as she yanked open her nightstand drawer and grabbed the biggest dildo she owned — a thick, heavy beast she hadn't touched in weeks because nothing had ever come close to Nolan's cock. Until tonight. Until she saw Mark.
Her pussy clenched around nothing, throbbing, aching, dripping wet before the toy even touched her. She spread her legs wide, shameless, her panties shoved aside, soaking through.
With trembling fingers, she slicked the fat dildo with her own slick, coating the thick head until it glistened. Then, teasing herself cruelly, she rubbed the tip against her swollen, needy folds, smearing herself further, dragging a low whimper from her lips.
The first inch stretched her open — brutal, burning, fucking perfect. Debbie moaned deep in her throat, her hips tilting up, greedy, desperate for more. She pushed the dildo in slowly, savoring the raw stretch, the way her pussy fought to swallow it down. Inch after inch, until the thick shaft split her wide open, filling the emptiness she'd been dying to erase.
"Mark…" she whimpered, voice breaking, wrecked with filthy need.
Her free hand clawed into her hair, yanking hard as she began to thrust the toy deeper — hard, fast, furious. Her tight walls sucked it in greedily, spasming with every punishing thrust. Her fingers found her clit, frantic, rubbing tight, furious circles as the pressure inside her built hotter, faster, almost painful.
"Fuck, Mark—yes—fuck me, baby—" she gasped, grinding down on the toy, imagining it was him. His cock, stretching her beyond sanity. His hips slammed into her, pounding her into the mattress until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
She fucked herself harder, frenzied now, the bed creaking under her wild thrusts, slick noises filling the room as her pussy gushed around the brutal dildo. Her swollen clit throbbed under her fingers, every nerve sparking white-hot.
"Mark! I need your cock... need your cum inside me—" she sobbed, body convulsing, lost.
The orgasm hit her like a goddamn bomb — ripping through her in savage, uncontrollable waves. Her back arched off the bed, legs shaking, pussy clenching and squirting around the toy, soaking the sheets beneath her. She screamed his name, shameless, desperate, over and over as her climax tore her apart.
When she finally collapsed back into the mattress, body twitching, heart hammering, she barely remembered to breathe. Sweat slicked her skin, her thighs a mess of dripping wetness.
And through the haze of pleasure and shame, one brutal truth burned in her mind:
It wasn't Nolan she needed anymore.
It was Mark.
Only Mark.
From the very next morning, Debbie's behavior began to shift in ways that were impossible for Mark to ignore. The woman who had once been swallowed by sorrow now carried herself with a new, quiet confidence—a simmering fire just beneath her skin.
She started dressing differently. Tighter tops that hugged her curves, shorter shorts that left more of her legs bare. Her cleavage peeked out just a little more than usual, framed by a necklace Mark had once given her—a subtle reminder of their complicated past.
Mark caught the first real sign when he walked into the living room and noticed a faint but intoxicating scent lingering in the air. Something warm, musky, sweet—he couldn't place it.
"Mom," he said, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against the doorway, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "what's that smell? It's… different."
Debbie smiled, brushing a hand through her hair as she stepped closer, the warmth of her body pressing near his.
"Oh, that?" she said, voice low and playful. "Maybe it's a new perfume. Or maybe it's just me." Her fingers trailed lightly over his arm, and Mark's skin prickled at the touch.
The teasing continued. She'd call him in for a hug—longer than necessary. Her breasts pressed gently against him, the softness so unexpected it made Mark's breath hitch. She never said anything outright, but her eyes promised something just out of reach.
That afternoon, as he was sorting through laundry, he caught her looking at him across the room, a small, teasing grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No laundry for me today?" she asked, her voice low and suggestive.
Mark flushed, suddenly acutely aware of the space between them. "Uh, I guess I forgot," he muttered, trying to avoid eye contact.
She approached, each step deliberate, her hips swaying slightly more than usual as she passed by. Debbie stopped just behind him, her breath warm against his neck, the proximity unsettling and oddly comforting.
"Careful, Mark," she said, her voice soft but with an edge. "If you keep avoiding me like this, I might just have to make things a little more... interesting."
There was something hypnotic about the way she moved—how her hips swayed just a bit more when she passed by, how her fingers found excuses to touch his hair, ruffling it gently in a way that felt almost possessive.
Later in the evening, as Mark tried to study, Debbie came up behind him and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You're so tense honey," she murmured. "You need to relax more… or maybe you just need a distraction."
Mark swallowed hard, caught between wanting to pull away and the desperate urge to let himself fall into her warmth.
She didn't press further then, but the message was clear. Every touch, every glance, every lingering moment was a thread pulling them closer—winding tighter around them both.
Mark's frustration grew by the day, the struggle between keeping his distance and giving in to the temptation becoming unbearable. Debbie had become a living reminder of everything he both craved and feared.
And she knew it.
…
Mark's room was dim, the faint glow of his desk lamp casting shadows over his tense, flushed face. His hand gripped himself tightly, slick and trembling, every slow stroke pushing him closer to the edge. The desperate hunger inside him churned, frustrated and raw — aching for release.
Just as his breathing hitched and his body tensed, the door creaked open. His heart slammed in panic and confusion as Debbie stepped inside, her presence instantly filling the small space. She was wearing the most revealing lingerie he'd ever seen — black lace clinging to every curve, the straps teasingly loose, exposing skin that gleamed under the low light.
Her eyes locked on his, dark and burning with a dangerous fire. Without a word, she closed the distance between them, every confident step like a challenge.
"Let Mommy help you with that," she said, voice low, sultry, and dripping with something more — a desperate need that twisted Mark's gut.
He jerked back slightly, startled, eyes wide. "Mom… this is wrong. We shouldn't—"
Instinctively, he yanked the blanket up over his lap, trying to hide his erection. But the thick, heavy outline of his cock still strained against the fabric, impossible to truly conceal.
His face burned with a mix of panic and arousal, but he couldn't look away.
Debbie's eyes flicked down, catching the obscene bulge, and a slow, wicked smile curled her lips. She took another step forward, the aroma of depravity between them thickening, suffocating.
"You're adorable when you get all shy," she purred, her voice low and dripping with heat. "But you can't hide it from me. I can see how badly you're aching to fuck. Let me handle that for you… before you snap and wreck some poor, clueless thing."
Her fingers traced lightly along the edge of the blanket, a feather-soft touch that made Mark's entire body tighten with anticipation. His breath hitched as she peeled it away, exposing him fully.
Mark's cock sprang free — thick, flushed, and throbbing, already slick with precum. Debbie's eyes widened, a hungry smile curling at her lips as she drank at the sight of him. Thirteen massive inches, pulsing with desperate need.
She dropped to her knees without hesitation, hands sliding up his thighs with deliberate slowness. Reaching for him, she wrapped both hands around his shaft — needing both to even begin to hold him properly. Her fingers barely met around the thick base, the heat of him radiating against her palms.
"God, you're so warm…" she whispered, almost in awe, squeezing him gently and feeling the way he twitched and throbbed in her grasp. She stroked him slowly, reverently, savoring the way the slickness of his precum made him glide so easily through her hands.
She leaned in, inhaling deeply, letting the raw, musky scent of his cock flood her senses, making her head spin and her pussy clench with need. Without another word, she flicked her tongue across the swollen head, tasting the salty drop that had gathered there.
"Mmm…" she moaned, eyes fluttering closed for a second as if savoring a fine wine. "You taste even better than I imagined."
Mark groaned low in his throat, fists clenching the sheets beneath him as she kissed along his length — slow, worshipful kisses — before parting her lips wider and starting to take him into her mouth, inch by thick inch.
Mark's mind screamed with every warning — the risks, the consequences — but they were drowned out by the feeling of hot breath around his cock. "Fuck, Mom... you're gonna choke," he gasped, voice ragged, watching with wide, desperate eyes as Debbie leaned in, lips parted, hungry.
Debbie didn't hesitate. She wrapped her mouth around the fat, throbbing head of Mark's cock — barely able to stretch her lips wide enough to take it — and sucked, slow and deep, letting out a low, needy moan. Her tongue swirled around the swollen tip savoring the salty precum leaking out in heavy drops, her soft whimpers humming against his skin.
Mark shuddered, fists clenching the sheets at his sides, the sight of Debbie gagging and drooling around his cock, her whimpers growing louder and more desperate, almost too much to handle. She bobbed her head, sloppy and eager, her throat working to take more of him each time, her hands stroking the thick base she couldn't fit inside, her muffled groans vibrating through him.
Her moans, deep and throaty, pulsed through his shaft, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. Between sloppy, breathless sucks, she pulled back just enough to whisper, voice hoarse and sinful, "Don't pull out, baby... I want it all. I want you to cum in my mouth... want to feel you pour down my throat," before diving back in with a hungry, drawn-out moan.
Mark whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily. "Fuck... I can't— I'm gonna—" His control snapped, and he grabbed her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pushing her down hard as he thrust into her throat. Debbie gagged, her moans turning choked and frantic, but she didn't pull away, her hands gripping his thighs tightly as he held her in place, choking her on his cock.
His entire world collapsed into the hot, wet heaven of her throat, and with a guttural cry, Mark came hard, thick jets of cum blasting directly into her throat. Debbie choked, her moans muffled and strained as the sheer volume of his release overwhelmed her, cum spilling past her lips, and dripping down her chin in messy streams. She struggled to swallow, her throat convulsing around him, but she took as much as she could, her eyes watering, her body trembling with the intensity.
His cock twitched violently in her throat, unloading more than she could handle, and still, she didn't pull back — she wanted it, needed it — gulping down what she could as cum continued to spill. When he finally released her, she pulled off with a wet, gasping pop, coughing and licking her lips, a wicked, satisfied glint in her eyes despite the mess, letting out one last sultry moan.
"See, baby?" she whispered, voice raw and thick with lust, wiping the cum from her chin. "This is what I needed…this is what I've been starving for."
Debbie's desire burns unquenched. She rises from the tangled sheets, her movements sinuous, deliberate, every curve of her body glistening with sweat. Climbing onto the bed, she positions herself on all fours, her round ass raised high, the damp lace of her panties clinging to her swollen, flushed pussy. The fabric outlines her slick folds, betraying her aching need. "Fuck me, Mark," she pleads, voice raw and ragged with lust. "I need your huge Viltrumite cock stretching my pussy now."
Mark's restraint shatters at her words, a primal growl rumbling from his chest. Ignited by her hunger, he surged forward. In one swift motion, he tears her lingerie apart, the fabric ripping like tissue to reveal her trembling, flushed curves—her full breasts heaving, nipples hard, her puckered asshole and her slick pussy glistening under the dim light.
"Fuck, I can't hold back anymore—you wanted this, so take it!" he snarls, his voice thick with command and primal desire. His hands grip her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he positions her, the Viltrumite urges roaring within him, tempered only by his reverence for the woman beneath him.
Mark's 13-inch cock, thick and throbbing, pulses with need as he aligns himself. He thrusts into her, his massive dick stretching her tight pussy with a delicious, burning intensity. Debbie cries out, her body arching off the bed, nails clawing at the sheets as her walls clench around him. "Fuck, you're so big!" she gasps, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure.
He moves with a relentless rhythm, each thrust deeper, harder, their bodies colliding with wet, slapping sounds that echo in the room. Debbie's moans grow louder, unrestrained, her hips rocking back to meet his punishing pace, her clit throbbing with every graze of his pelvis.
"Cum inside me, Mark," she begged, her voice fervent and trembling, her eyes wild with need. "I want you so deep I'll feel you forever."
Mark's rhythm faltered, a flicker of panic flashing across his face. "Mom… what if you get pregnant?" he stammered, his thrusts slowing, his cock still buried in her pulsing, soaked heat.
"Knock me up," she growled, grinding her pussy against him, her voice a husky, desperate plea. "Breed me, Mark. Fill my womb. I want it—I want all of you."
Her filthy words shattered whatever restraint he had left. With a guttural snarl, Mark surrendered, fucking into her with raw, unrestrained Viltrumite force, his massive cock battering against her womb with every brutal thrust, claiming her in the only way he knew how.
Debbie's body trembles, her pussy clenching tight around him as her orgasm rips through her. She screams a shattered cry of ecstasy, her eyes gleaming with fierce satisfaction as her juices coat his dick.
Mark follows, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he cums, his cock pulsing violently. Hot, thick cum floods her pussy in heavy waves, filling her so completely it spills out around his shaft, dripping down her thighs. Debbie's hunger burns insatiable, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.
A predatory glint flashed in her eyes as she flipped Mark onto his back, moving with swift, commanding ease. Straddling him, her slick, cum-soaked pussy hovered over his still-hard cock, strings of their mingled arousal dripping onto his shaft. Her full breasts swayed heavily with each breath as she lowered herself, her swollen lips parting to swallow him whole. The thick stretch made her shudder, a raw gasp tearing from her throat.
Debbie rode him with a relentless, feral hunger, grinding her hips down hard, her clit catching against his pelvis with every thrust. Sparks of pleasure shot through her nerves, making her moans low, guttural, and desperate, her body chasing every last wave of savage bliss.
"Listen to me," she growled, her voice thick with sultry authority as she rode him hard, her thighs slapping against his. "You're the man of the house now."
She ground her hips in deep, grinding his cock against her walls as her words poured out, filthy and commanding. "You've got this massive Viltrumite cock—and it's mine. You're responsible for this pussy—my urges, my needs. You don't get to hold back."
Leaning down, she raked her nails down his chest, leaving angry red trails in her wake. "Anytime I need a fuck, you'll be ready. I don't care where we are, or who's around. When I want this dick, you'll give it to me—hard, deep, and dripping with cum."
She slammed her hips down, taking him to the hilt, her pussy clenching so fiercely around him that it tore a gasp from his throat.
Mark's eyes widen a mix of awe and submission, his body trembling under her dominance. "Debbie, I—" he starts, but she cuts him off, grabbing his jaw to force his gaze to hers. "No excuses," she snarls, her depraved side fully unleashed. "You'll let me fuck you whenever I crave it. I'll ride this cock until I'm screaming, until my pussy's so full of your cum it's running down my thighs. You're mine to use, Mark." To punctuate her words, she grinds her ass against his pelvis, her clit throbbing as she chases another high, her movements wild, unhinged.
She rode him with feral intensity, her pussy clenching and milking his massive 13-inch cock as he came again, his body shuddering violently beneath her. Thick, scalding cum flooded her, spilling out around his buried shaft, slicking her thighs and ass in a hot, messy flood. But Debbie didn't relent.
"More," she growled, her voice a dark, depraved hiss as she ground her hips harder, relentless in her hunger. "I want every fucking drop."
Mark came again, a ragged, broken groan ripping from his throat as her pussy drained him dry, her belly seeming to swell slightly from the sheer volume of his seed. Debbie laughed—a low, wicked sound—reveling in the raw power she had over him. She squeezed around his cock, milking the last tremors of pleasure from him until he was whimpering helplessly beneath her.
With a final, wet plop, Debbie lifted herself off his softening cock, a gush of cum pouring from her used pussy, splattering hotly across the ruined sheets. She collapsed beside him, both of them slick with sweat and cum, their bodies heaving with exhaustion.
The air hung heavy, thick with the obscene scent of their coupling. Debbie trailed her fingers down her trembling thigh, scooping up a glob of the sticky mess. She brought it to her lips, sucking it clean with a savage, deliberate slowness, her eyes locked fiercely on Mark's dazed face.
"Fuck you, Nolan," she whispered, a bitter triumph curling her lips into a dark, savage smile.