The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe-Chapter 129: Isabelle Had Caught Me Staring at Her Panties!

Chapter 129: Isabelle Had Caught Me Staring at Her Panties!

From where I stood, holding Roselyn aloft, the view was unobstructed: black panties came into clear sight, the dark cotton stretched tight across the mound of vagina.

The fabric molded perfectly to her pussy lips, outlining the plump outer folds and the deeper cleft between them.

A small, wet shadow had already begun to darken the center seam, right over her clit—evidence of how turned on she was just from watching.

The sight hit me like a gut punch.

Using it as pure fap material, I drove my fingers harder into Roselyn.

My left hand parted her soaked pussy lips wide—soft, swollen flesh yielding under my fingertips, inner lips glistening and fluttering as cool air hit them. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Two fingers of my right hand thrust in deep—furious, relentless pumps that made obscene schlurking sounds with every plunge.

Her walls gripped me like a fist, hot and slick, trying to pull me deeper even as I withdrew almost completely before slamming back in.

Each thrust curled against that sensitive front wall; each withdrawal dragged my fingertips along the roof of her channel, scraping lightly over every ridge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!! Slow doooowwwn, Benjamin! You’ll make me go insane!!" Roselyn cried out, voice shaking on every word.

So she says, but the lie was in her body; her pussy clamped down harder the moment my fingers started to leave, walls spasming desperately to keep me inside.

When I pushed back in, she bucked wildly, hips grinding down onto my hand so my palm slapped wetly against her clit with every stroke.

Fresh squirts pulsed out around my knuckles—hot, rhythmic jets that soaked my wrist and forearm, dripping in thick strings to join the growing puddle on the floor.

As I kept fucking her with my fingers—three of them now, stretching her open wider, pistoning fast then slow in punishing rhythm—I noticed Isabelle had caught me staring at her panties.

Her glassy eyes met mine for a heartbeat. Then, deliberately, she widened her legs further.

My own eyes widened in response.

Her skirt rode up inch by inch—slow and cinematic, the hem catching briefly on the tops of her thighs before sliding higher with the deliberate spread of her knees.

The black panties entered full view like a reveal in slow motion: first the delicate lace trim at the waistband, then the smooth cotton panel stretched taut over her the pump of pussy.

The fabric clung so tightly it outlined everything—the plump outer lips parted slightly from how wet she was, the deeper shadow of her slit visible through the thin material, a growing wet spot blooming darker at the center where her clit pressed insistently against the seam.

Every tiny shift of her hips made the panties pull tighter, the crotch dipping inward to hug the exact shape of her entrance, a faint sheen of arousal making the black look almost glossy under the crystal light.

Her thighs trembled from holding the position—the smooth skin of the vagina flushed pink at the inner edges, with the muscles flexing as she fought not to close them again.

I... think I have a panties fetish... now.

The thought flashed through my mind unbidden and raw and honest.

The sight of that dark cotton soaked and clinging, the way it molded to her most intimate place while she watched me finger the hell out of her sister—it sent another surge of blood straight to my dick.

I was painfully hard now, trapped against Roselyn’s grinding hips, every thrust of my fingers into her making my erection throb in time with her moans.

Roselyn’s head fell back suddenly, her blonde braid swinging, and a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her pussy spasmed violently around my fingers.

Another gush soaked my hand—hot and endless, dripping down my wrist in steady streams.

Her legs locked tighter around my waist, feet dangling uselessly, toes pointed as wave after wave ripped through her.

Isabelle’s finger pressed harder against her nipple through the shirt, the fabric tenting sharply around the stiff peak.

Her moan joined Roselyn’s—soft but needy, an almost lost under the wet sounds of my fingers working relentlessly inside her sister’s cunt.

Instead of stroking my own dick to the sight of Isabelle’s panties and her pleasing herself, I was busy pleasuring Roselyn as if her pussy was mine—completely and possessively, like every inch of her slick warmth belonged to my fingers alone.

I soon entered superhuman territory without even thinking much.

My fingering accelerated to match the wild speed my imagination demanded, fingers pistoning in and out of her vagina like a fast-moving machine that never tired.

Three fingers relentlessly plunging deep to the knuckles then withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in with wet, furious slaps.

Her walls clamped down hard around each thrust—hot, velvety muscle spasming and fluttering, trying desperately to hold me inside even as I pulled out.

Every withdrawal dragged my fingertips along the ridged front wall, scraping over that swollen spot until her hips bucked violently.

Every plunge stretched her open wider, the entrance gaping slightly each time my fingers left, only to be filled again in the next brutal stroke.

Roselyn arched her back sharply, spine curving like a bowstring pulled to breaking.

Her head fell backward, braid whipping through the air, mouth open in a continuous, broken wail.

Juice spilled everywhere—consistent, forceful gushes that squirted out around my knuckles in rhythmic jets, hot and clear, spraying across my wrist, forearm, and down onto the floor in heavy splatters.

The puddle beneath us grew fast—shiny, spreading patches that reflected the crystal light overhead, each new squirt adding fresh ripples that made the liquid dance.

Droplets clung to her inner thighs in thick beads before rolling down in slow, glistening trails, soaking the hem of her shorts until the black fabric turned almost see-through, clinging transparently to the plump shape of her mound and the cleft between her lips.

I could feel the excess running over my hand in warm streams, dripping off my elbow in steady plops.

For a split second I worried she’d get dehydrated from how much liquid poured out—her body shaking, breath ragged, every muscle trembling as if she might shatter from the intensity.

"Y... You jerk!" Roselyn gasped, voice cracking on every syllable.

She lunged forward and latched onto my ear—hot, wet mouth sealing over the lobe, tongue rolling in slow, serpentine circles that sent electric shocks straight down my spine.