Please Lend Me 50 Million - Chapter 67

But was the power of ecstasy truly that great? The sensations she would normally find stinging felt only like pleasure. Even as his harsh touch scraped down her folds and flipped back the hood as if scratching her. By the time the hand that had been obsessively tormenting her peak moved toward her vaginal opening, Asha’s moans sounded closer to the cries of a beast.

“Hng, h~ngh! Ah, haaa. Ha~ugh.”

She even forgot to swallow her saliva—the duvet touching her cheek was damp. She had to escape, she had to… but the reason that flared up for a moment was instantly crushed by the heat trampling her mind. All that remained in her head was the sensation of something poking her p***y, and the desperate expectation for it to keep poking.

Asha suddenly stopped breathing at the overwhelming sensations. She felt as if her brain would break from the pleasure that had reached its limit if she stayed like this. But her nerves tilted further downward, and the pleasure that hadn’t been able to surge past the threshold suddenly burst through.

Was this what it meant for one’s vision to go dim?

Moisture welled in her wide-open eyes.

Asha shook her body like a young animal.

More, just a little more.

Just as her body stiffened from the unbearable pleasure, the hand that had been following her tenaciously stopped as if by magic.

“Haa~hngh, ugh, no! You can’t stop….”

“Asha.”

Asha sobbed softly at the sudden withdrawal of his touch. Just a little more, she could have reached it with just a little more. Having collapsed right before the summit, Asha shook her body slightly from the lingering attachment she couldn’t discard. It was a gesture to rub her c******s even against the bedsheets.

But before her g******s could even brush the soft cotton, her body was pulled upward. Asha let out a crying sound at the fact that neither his hand, nor the duvet, nor anything else that could give her pleasure was there.

“Hng, ugh. I~I was wrong, I was wrong, ooh~~”

Leaving Asha crying like she was searching for her mother, Harriet untied the ropes. His touch was rough as he tossed the discarded ropes away. Holding Asha lightly in his arms, Harriet slowly stroked her as if checking her vitals. It was a tender touch, but what Asha needed now was rough intercourse rather than comfort. Instinctively, Asha tried to rub her b*****s against his palm.

Now that her hands were free, the unbridled colt couldn’t endure the itchiness and finally reached for her own nether regions. Her touch was frantic, as if trying to vent the resentment of him not thrusting into her. But before she could pinch her c******s to her heart’s content, her hands were caught by Harriet.

“H-ah, ah. No, no! Hng, ha-ahng!”

“Truly, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Asha, who had been shaking her body frantically in her desperation, was forced to spread her legs by his overbearing strength. It was a posture with both legs hooked over his thighs like a frog. Asha, who had been shaking her body as if urging him, froze at the two fingers that suddenly invaded her vaginal opening. As if it were punishment for her bad behavior, there was no hesitation in his touch.

“Ha~ah, ahhh! ♡”

The pleasure granted after long patience was sweeter than ever before. No, it was explosive. Her entire body ran wild at the sensation that melted her brain. She trembled, her mouth agape like someone frozen from a massive shock.

The ecstasy didn’t end easily. At the end of the itchiness that scratched her flesh, pleasure exploded, and at the end of that pleasure, a subtle itchiness consumed her body once again. Asha hung her mouth open stupidly in this inescapable cycle.

“Your body is so honest.”

Thwack.

Every time his fingers moved in and out of the narrow vaginal opening, the pink mucous membranes were pulled out with a squelching sound. It was the natural next step for love juices to pour out following that. She was so drenched that after just a few movements, Harriet’s thighs became irreversibly damp.

Thwack.

“Hngh~hoo, ahng!!”

Harriet’s gaze turned toward her g******s. Every time he dove in quickly and hit her inner walls with a thud, the membranes clung to his fingers in delight. They sucked so hard that even when he tried to pull his fingers out, they bit down tight as if reluctant to let go. Even if she was a woman who often spun lies, she was honest in this moment.

The touch that had been violently continuing like an act of venting anger began to change into a slow crawl. It was because the desire to see those wriggling membranes in detail had surged within him at some point. His dark green eyes scanned the twisting flesh and membranes as if to carve them into his memory. When he scraped the vaginal opening and the urethral opening that moved as if mumbling, her c******s, burning red, caught his eye.