Bored Gamer in Other Worlds-Chapter 1090 Pallet

"How long have I been coming?" Makena wondered dimly, the thought floating through her mind like a distant echo.

Time had dissolved hours ago; there was no clock, no daylight, only the endless rhythm of Clark’s body against hers and the relentless waves of pleasure that refused to let her go.

She couldn’t speak anymore—her throat was raw, her voice reduced to nothing but hoarse whispers and broken gasps from the countless moans and cries he had wrung from her lips.

Clark’s massive cock—fifteen thick, veined inches of pure, overwhelming heat—had ruined her in the most exquisite way possible.

From the moment he’d first pressed that swollen head against her virgin entrance and slowly, inexorably pushed inside, she had been lost.

The stretch had been shocking, almost too much, yet her body had welcomed him greedily, her slick walls parting for him as though she’d been made for this alone.

When he finally broke through her maidenhead with one deep, claiming thrust, the sharp sting had melted almost instantly into a pleasure so intense it stole her breath.

Since then, he had fucked her without mercy or pause. Hours—maybe three, maybe five—blurred into one continuous haze of ecstasy.

He had taken her in every way imaginable, as though determined to imprint himself on every inch of her body and soul.

First slow and deep on her back, his weight pinning her to the mattress as he whispered filthy praises in her ear.

Then rougher, flipping her onto her stomach and driving into her from behind, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded her into the sheets.

He’d pulled her on top next, letting her ride him until her thighs shook and she collapsed forward onto his chest, only for him to sit up and bounce her on his cock like she weighed nothing.

Against the wall, on the floor, bent over the dresser—he moved her effortlessly, tirelessly, each new position drawing fresh screams and squirting orgasms from her over-sensitized body.

Every thrust forced another gush from her pussy.

She had squirted so many times she’d lost count—hot, forceful jets that soaked his abs, dripped down his balls, and drenched the bed beneath them until the fabric squelched with every movement. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Her clit throbbed endlessly, swollen and hypersensitive, sparking fresh climaxes with the slightest brush of his pelvis or fingers.

She had tried, in the beginning, to match his pace—to roll her hips, to fuck him back with the same wild hunger he showed her.

But after the first few hours, her strength had deserted her completely.

Now she could only lie limp and trembling beneath him, her arms heavy at her sides, legs splayed wide as he continued to rut into her like an animal in heat.

Sweat slicked their skin; the room smelled of sex, of her arousal and his musk, thick and heady.

Her dark hair clung to her damp forehead and neck, strands stuck to her tear-streaked cheeks.

Her full lips were swollen from his bruising kisses, her nipples tender and red from his mouth and fingers.

Every muscle in her body felt like liquid, used and exhausted in the sweetest way.

And still the pleasure built again, impossibly, one final time.

Clark’s rhythm grew erratic, his breathing ragged against her ear.

"One more, baby," he growled, voice rough with need. "Give me one more and I’ll fill you up."

Makena’s eyes fluttered, half-lidded and glassy.

She couldn’t form words, could barely think, but her body answered for her.

The coil in her belly tightened unbearably, her oversensitive walls fluttering around his pistoning cock. When the orgasm hit, it was cataclysmic—her back arched violently off the bed, a silent scream tearing from her raw throat as her pussy clamped down in fierce, rhythmic spasms.

She squirted harder than ever before, a hot flood that splashed against his lower stomach and ran in rivulets down her thighs.

The intensity shattered her completely. Her vision tunneled, sparks bursting behind her eyelids, and then everything went blissfully dark as unconsciousness pulled her under.

A faint, dreamy smile curved her lips even as she slipped away, utterly spent and satisfied beyond anything she’d ever known.

Clark groaned her name like a prayer, hips stuttering as her final climax milked him mercilessly.

He buried himself to the hilt one last time and came with a deep, guttural roar.

Thick ropes of cum erupted from him in powerful pulses—what felt like an absolute gallon of hot, creamy seed flooding her tight, quivering pussy.

He pumped into her again and again, forcing every drop deep inside until her walls overflowed and it leaked out around his shaft in creamy rivulets, mixing with her own release.

Even in her unconscious state, Makena’s body responded one final time—a weak, helpless squirt that fluttered around his spent cock as though thanking him for the ruin he’d wrought.

Clark collapsed gently atop her, careful not to crush her slight frame, his chest heaving as he pressed soft kisses to her temple and cheek.

He stayed buried inside her, plugging his cum deep where it belonged, and whispered tender words she couldn’t hear.

Makena slept deeply, beautifully wrecked—marked, claimed, and filled to the brim.

She would wake sore and aching, dripping with evidence of the night, forever changed and utterly his.

***

The afternoon sun filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the rumpled sheets.

Makena stirred slowly, her body aching in the most delicious way as memories of the previous night flooded back.

A deep blush crept across her cheeks as she recalled how Clark had manhandled her—lifting her effortlessly, pinning her down, flipping her over, and taking her with relentless, primal hunger.

She couldn’t believe how lewd she had become: screaming his name, begging for more, squirting uncontrollably as he drove that massive fifteen-inch cock into her again and again.

She glanced to her side, expecting to see Clark’s broad, muscular frame beside her, but the bed was empty—only the indent of his body and the lingering scent of their passion remained.

Makena sat up gingerly, wincing as every muscle protested. Her body felt like it had been thoroughly wrecked, as if she’d been hit by a train and left trembling in the aftermath.

She looked down at her naked form and gasped softly: her smooth brown skin was decorated with a map of love bites and kiss marks—dark hickeys blooming across her neck, collarbone, full breasts, and inner thighs.

Finger-shaped bruises dotted her hips where he’d gripped her tightly, and between her legs, she still felt tender, swollen, and deliciously used, a faint trickle of his dried cum reminding her of how completely he’d filled her.

With a shy smile, she reached for the silk robe draped over the chair, wrapping it around her aching body.

Standing up was an adventure—her legs wobbled, thighs rubbing together with a sensitive friction that made her bite her lip.

She walked gingerly out of the bedroom, one hand on the wall for support, her gait awkward and bow-legged from the hours of intense pounding.

The aroma of fresh coffee and warm food drew her to the kitchen.

There, at the small dining table, sat Clark—shirtless, his chiseled chest and abs on full display, a steaming mug in hand.

Plates of hot food waited: fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, buttered toast, and fresh fruit.

He looked up as she entered, his eyes lighting with that same possessive warmth that had undone her last night.

"I figured you’d be starving after... everything," he said with a knowing grin, standing to pull out a chair for her. His voice was low and teasing, making her blush deepen.

Makena slid into the seat, the robe parting slightly to reveal more of those telling marks.

They ate in comfortable silence at first, exchanging heated glances over forks and coffee sips.

Clark’s foot brushed against her calf under the table, a subtle reminder of his touch, and she felt a familiar warmth pooling between her legs despite her soreness.

"You okay?" he asked softly, reaching across to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I might’ve gotten carried away."

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. "I’m more than okay. I’ve never felt anything like that." Her voice was still a little hoarse, and the admission made his eyes darken with renewed desire.

The meal didn’t last long. Conversation turned playful, then flirtatious, their words laced with memories of the night before.

Before the plates were even cleared, Clark was around the table, pulling her gently to her feet and into his arms.

The robe slipped open as he kissed her deeply, tasting coffee on her tongue, his hands roaming possessively over the marks he’d left.

What started as tender soon turned hungry.

He lifted her onto the table, pushing dishes aside with a clatter, and within moments they were lost in each other again.

Another round of hard, passionate fucking unfolded right there—her robe discarded, his pants shoved down, as he buried himself deep inside her once more.

Makena cried out in pleasure-pain, her sore body reigniting under his touch, welcoming him like she was made for him alone.

By the time they collapsed together, breathless and spent anew, the afternoon had slipped into evening.

"Ahhhhhh..."

"Ohhhhhh..."

"Ughhhhh..." Makena’s lewd voice serenaded the entire house for a long long time.