This angle was different. From behind, his cock found the front wall of her canal instead of the back, the curved pressure landing against the inner surface she had never known existed, the sensation entirely unlike the first angle and entirely unlike anything a virgin body could have anticipated.

Her hips twitched.

Against the temporal field. Against the suspension. Her hips ’moved’ — not much, one centimeter of involuntary motion, the body’s response overriding the magic in the only direction it was capable of choosing. Not away. Forward. Her hips pushed backward against his cock one small, treacherous centimeter.

He felt it.

He smiled.

PAH PAH PAAH—

"Mmhh~!! Unngh— NNGHHH~!!"

He fucked her harder.

The sounds coming from her accumulated — each compressed, muffled, small in their individual production but filling the stopped afternoon as they layered over each other, the rhythm of his hips producing a continuous string of broken wet sounds from her half-open lips.

"Mmhh— Nngh— Mmhh— NNGHH— Mmhh—"

Her pussy was producing now.

The blood had not stopped but something had joined it — the clear, slick evidence of a body that had received a demon’s aphrodisiac saliva directly into its walls and had been absorbing it for the better part of an hour. Her juices ran down his cock alongside the blood, mixing in warm, translucent streaks, the combination of virgin blood and first-time arousal coating him completely.

He pulled back until only the head remained inside her.

He looked at her cunt stretched around the crown of him — the labia spread, the blood-and-slick mixture visible at the ring of stretched flesh, the hair dark and damp against her inner thighs where the fluid had run.

He drove forward.

Full depth. No pause. The complete length of him in one unbroken stroke.

PHAAAAACK—

"MMHHNN~!!!! NNGHHH~!!!!"

The belly bulge pressed outward to its maximum extent.

Her whole body shook.

He watched her tits swing under her bent torso — the small, soft, pink-nippled tits that had been bound flat for however long, now free and moving with every impact, the nipples stiff and dragging through the air with each thrust.

He reached under her.

He grabbed both tits.

The full soft handfuls of them filling his palms, the nipples pressing into the center of each hand, his fingers closing around the flesh hard enough to leave prints.

He used them as handles.

He pulled her back onto his cock with each thrust, forward off it with each withdrawal, the motion of her hips entirely under his control now, her body being moved by his grip on her tits, the pulls and pushes transmitted through her chest to her hips to her cunt.

PAH PAH PAH PHACK—

"Nnghh~!! Mmhh~!! MMNGHH~!! NNGHH~!!"

Forty minutes he had been working on this cunt.

He could feel every minute of it in the way her walls had changed — not loose, never loose, a virgin body does not become loose in forty minutes, but ’adapted.’ The ring of her entrance had shaped itself to his girth. The inner walls had learned the curve of him. The depth that had been unreachable an hour ago was now simply where he lived, the place his cock found automatically with each stroke, the ceiling of her meeting his head with the easy familiarity of repeated contact.

He pushed her down.

His hands left her tits and found her shoulders and pressed — down, forward, the temporal field complying with the direction because it could not hold everything at once and he was pushing harder than it could redistribute. Her body moved through the stopped air and found the ground.

The grass.

She landed face-first — slowly, the field catching and slowing — her cheek against the dirt, her small tits pressed against the ground beside Rika’s unconscious form, her hips up, her cunt presented.

He followed her down.

He lay over her.

His chest against her back, his weight settling onto her, his cock sliding home in the angle of a full mating press — the complete contact of two bodies aligned from shoulder to hip, his pelvis driving against her ass, the depth from this angle pressing against the wall of her and finding places the previous angles had not found.

He wrapped his arms around her.

His mouth found her neck.

He bit down.

Not hard enough to break skin. Hard enough to hold. The way a predator holds its mate, the grip that communicates position and ownership and the particular completeness of an incubus who has decided to be thorough.

And he fucked her into the ground.

PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH PHACK PHACK PHACK—

"Mmhh~!! Nngh~!! MMNGHH~!! Mmhh~!! NNGHH~!! MMHH~!!! NNGHHH~!!!"

Beside her: Rika’s unconscious face.

Three inches away from hers. The two of them face to face in the dirt, one wrecked and gone, the other being wrecked in real time, their cheeks almost touching.

He looked at the gap between their faces.

’Sigh... what a hunt.’ He chuckled, but he could feel his cock literally twitching from the excitement as he really wanted to fuck Rika even more. He wanted to fuck both of these women together to see the expression on Rika’s face when she comes to know about her husband being a woman.

A woman who has been fucked by the same cock she has. And again, it awakened her desire to be fucked by a man rather than acting as one..

He thrust harder.

PHAAAPLL PHAAAPLL—

"MMHH~!! NNGHH~!!!"

Her pussy was gushing.

The blood had slowed — the body adjusting, the tears sealing — but what replaced it was the full flood of arousal, her cunt producing slick in the quantities that a body saturated with incubus aphrodisiac produces after forty minutes of continuous stimulation. It ran down his cock with every withdrawal and soaked back in with every push, the sound of it wet and obscene under the slap of flesh on flesh.

He sucked her neck.

He pressed his teeth against the skin below her ear and pulled the flesh between his lips, his tongue pressing against the pulse point, drawing a mark into the pale skin that would still be there when she woke.

Her fingers curled in the grass.

Against the temporal field. Small, involuntary, the finger muscles doing what the rest of her could not.

Her mouth was pressed against the dirt and the sounds still came:

"Mmhh— Mmngh— Mmhh—"

Continuous. Rhythmic. The broken, muffled, temporally-compressed output of a body that had completely stopped managing its own responses and was simply producing them in direct proportion to what was being done to it.

He lifted her.

His arms went under her — one under her chest, one under her hips — and he stood, taking her weight entirely, her back against his chest, her cunt sliding down his cock with gravity assisting, the full depth achieved without a thrust simply by her weight and his positioning.

Her legs dangled.

He wrapped one arm around her chest, trapping both small tits against his forearm, the soft flesh pressing against him, the nipples rubbing against his arm with every movement. His other hand went under one thigh and lifted — her leg coming up, the angle of her hip opening, her cunt widening around him with the changed geometry.

He bounced her.

Up and down.

His hips meeting her descent.

The koala grip of her whole weight taken by his arms while his cock worked into her from the angle of her raised leg, the lifted thigh giving him access to depth that the horizontal positions had only suggested.

PAH PAH PHACK—

"MMHH~!! NNGHH~!! MMNGHH~!!"