Facts proved that a mature wife's ass indeed offered a far better sensation than average.
Especially when pulling apart the butt cheeks, burying his body inside, and beginning to slam against her, making layer after layer of lewd flesh waves ripple out.
It was an excellent frame.
Al grabbed the widow's hair, pressed his left hand into the small dimples on her lower back, and thrust his body forward.
The woman threw her head back. This posture particularly accentuated the round breasts on her chest. The goat mom was kneeling in front of her, helping Al play with these massive, and currently incredibly slutty-looking, mounds of fat.
The perfectly round, pale breasts were dotted with white stains; the goat mom was using her tongue to clean up the traces Al had left previously.
The sexually starved widow clearly couldn't handle the intense stimulation Al brought her. She had already climaxed and surrendered twice in a row; both the inside and outside of her body were a complete mess.
Her vaginal canal wasn't very deep, which was a slight pity, as Al could easily hit the very bottom. Every thrust slammed into her cervix, causing the widow's body to tremble uncontrollably in an adorable manner. The pleasure the two experienced was clearly not on the same level, though Al reaped far more psychological satisfaction.
The widow, possessing a mature and sexy body, suffered a total rout the moment the battle began, submitting beneath the little boy like a gorgeous bitch in heat, letting Al knead and mold her at will.
She fell much faster than expected.
Al thought to himself, delivering over a dozen heavy thrusts in a row, making the widow crane her swan-like neck high and let out a dying moan.
Two streams of heat were released and blended together inside her womb simultaneously.
Al exhaled, stroked the widow's thighs, and then flipped her over.
The woman had absolutely no strength left. Her beautiful, fleshy body was as limp as mud, letting the boy play and mold her. Al didn't pull little Al out; he just lay down on top of her. He and the goat mom took one breast each, biting down on them, pressing their bodies against the carpet of beautiful flesh, and began to think.
I feel like I've been really horny lately...
First, there was that red-haired woman named Ann, right?
Did this and that to her, and now Marlena. Actually, the other women looked pretty good too, but their vibes didn't quite click with Al. At the time, he was focused on the widow he was destined to meet, so he didn't pay much attention.
Now, suddenly, the desire is back again.
Al's member began to react again, or rather, it had never truly stopped.
And the woman, as if out of habit—even though she had been played with until she had no strength left, and the pleasure had numbed her from her soul to her flesh—still instinctively raised her legs, attempting to wrap them around the boy's waist.
Smack!
Al slapped one half of the widow's plump ass.
"You rest first."
Then the boy slowly pulled out, stood naked on the bed, let the goat mom serve and clean his body, and simply draped a coat over himself.
"Mom!"
[?]
The one who would reply directly to Al like this was usually only one person.
"Why do I feel like I'm getting hornier and hornier?"
The boy asked in confusion. Logically, shouldn't this kind of thing gradually lose its appeal as time, frequency, and playstyles progress? But his desire seemed to never wane. He had long since explored every inch of the goat mom's body, and if it weren't for the massive size difference that made Al slightly averse, he would have already unlocked the "Horse Fucker" achievement with his adoptive centaur mother.
Then there was the Paladin... the swordswoman... and the little nun, whom he was currently observing. After all, she wasn't Al's preferred type; he just thought she was cute and could be kept around as a daughter (pet) to look at for eye candy.
Now he had added a human woman, yet his heart had never truly felt satisfied or jaded by this, and it was entirely predictable that there would be more in the future.
Thinking it couldn't possibly be that he was just a degenerate, Al decisively shifted the blame: "Did you guys do something to my..."
[You little brat, I'll give you two punches!]
Of course, the Reveler didn't say exactly that, but the general gist was the same.
[Did you think the blessings were free?]
[The power Red gives you brings unquenchable strife and courage; what Blue gives you includes vigorous curiosity and thirst for knowledge; what Green gives you is a heart of universal love and tolerance; what I give you, naturally, is eternally vigorous desire and a pursuit that will never be completely satisfied.]
[You accepted our power, so you must accept these four traits along with it. They stimulate your growth and allow you to possess more.]
The Reveler told him that blessings weren't free; it wasn't about what his moms wanted to do, it was written in black and white on the contract (just kidding).
Then the tone abruptly shifted.
[Also, your mom knows exactly what kind of person you are better than you do! Admit it yourself, you are just a massive pervert! Who was it that had designs on his own biological mother the moment he was born? Who? Who was it!]
Al suffered a crushing defeat in the verbal battle.
He had to accept the core truth that he was indeed a massive pervert (LSP). He wasn't particularly resistant to the four additional traits attached to the Four Mothers' blessings, because these things had already completely integrated into his body and become a part of Al's soul.
He didn't even feel them as special external forces; everything stemmed from his own innate emotions. How can a person hate themselves?
So he thought about it.
He looked in the mirror.
Charisma: Max.
Attractiveness: Max.
Even he made his own heart flutter looking at himself. If he crossdressed, he could stand at the absolute pinnacle of his own harem based on looks alone.
Having just gone through an intense, tangled battle, venting his energy twice in a row inside the mature widow without showing the slightest sign of fatigue, he looked down. Like an angry dragon, little Al—whose size was absolutely exaggerated for a boy of his current stature—was still spirited and raring to go.
"Sigh..."
Al originally wanted to look in the mirror, pity himself, and then lament:
"I have been so wounded by smut that I am reduced to this haggard state!"
"From today onward, I abstain from jerking off! (Although Al had never done it himself since arriving)."
Judging by this state, he could fight another thousand rounds. Al was afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself and would sink back into the widow's beautiful flesh. So he simply got up, left the tent, and strolled around the camp accompanied by his bodyguards.
Along the way, he happened to run into Misha, who had come to report on matters.
Al's little face flushed red. Embarrassed to let his eldest daughter into the royal tent, he grabbed the Minotaur girl's hand and led her to another dedicated office area.
From the boy's attire and scent, Misha knew exactly what her little father had been doing. But she wouldn't embarrass Al; she obediently followed him, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly in a half-smile, looking somewhat happy.
But looking closely, it seemed like an illusion.
She was still that stern, strong head of the scions, Al's eldest daughter.
There wasn't anything incredibly urgent.
The Minotaur girl mainly came to report a crucial matter to Al.
Through her subtle, internal influence, the Grand Sister had already won over about a third of the Battle Sisters as firm supporters. With Al's help, and clearly backed by Al's two glasses-wearing moms (All-Knowing Mom and Loving Mom) and his hot-tempered mom, she had successfully executed a series of maneuvers, leading most of her Sister companions to choose to support, or at least tacitly accept, the Grand Sister's actions:
"Seeking a path of salvation for the suffering, seeking the true doctrine of Sigmar."
In reality, it was outright heresy.
However, the crusading Sisterhood Order wasn't exactly welcomed in the Empire to begin with, so they took these matters lightly. It was only their inner stubbornness and devotion that was hard to overcome.
So the Grand Sister had no choice but to don the guise of "seeking the guidance of true Sigmarite doctrine" to lead her companions toward the "correct" path.
Her first step was attempting to establish a mortal faction that belonged to the Sisterhood but upheld the Bloodmother's doctrines.
Al provided her with resources. The Grand Sister's preaching to the commoner class among the refugees had begun to show initial success. Currently, she had successfully turned about a hundred mortals—who desired revenge against the Greenskins and sought the guidance of the "God of Courage, God of Vengeance, Mother of Strife"—into resolute, fanatical believers.
They practiced martial arts and tempered their bodies day and night. With Al's special permission, they even lived in mixed camps with the Khorngors, staying close to the Graced Warriors and paying homage to the Bloodmother's divine grace.
In addition, there were about four hundred others whose faith wasn't particularly fanatical, or whose pursuit of battle wasn't as intense, serving as a reserve for future preaching.
The Sisterhood argued almost every day over this matter.
Internally, the Grand Sister claimed it was merging the doctrines of Sigmar and the Goddess Myrmidia, "adapting to local customs." Anyway, as long as it inspired people to rise up and fight their mortal Greenskin enemies, it wasn't wrong!
Directly spreading the gospel of Sigmar would obviously face opposition and even hostility from the Estalians. After all, future wars would primarily rely on Bilbali, and the Bilbali army was practically synonymous with the Northern Church of the Goddess of War.
The more stubborn and traditional Sisters were furious at the Grand Sister's heretical behavior of not only spreading the faith of foreign gods but also shamelessly gender-bending Sigmar. They flipped tables and brawled more than once, but the Grand Sister was always able to forcibly suppress them relying on her own immense martial prowess.
They were companions, comrades-in-arms, and above all, sisters.
On their long crusading journey, aside from those who died in battle or were too severely crippled to move forward, no one had been left behind.
Therefore, these conflicts only occurred internally and were limited to "throwing a few punches" without crossing the bottom line.
But the Grand Sister already had a massive headache. The Bloodmother was not Khorne, and the Grand Sister was not a Chaos believer from before the End Times. Her mind was still independent and autonomous. This was also a major difference between the followers of the Four Mothers and the followers of the Four Gods:
The influence the Four Mothers exerted on their believers was not as extreme as the Four Gods.
So naturally, it was impossible for them to flip the table and slaughter each other—"Those who believe in the Bloodmother are still good sisters, those who don't, lend me your skull."
Thus, the Grand Sister wanted to ask Al for help to use some methods to persuade—ideally, genuinely persuade, not directly brainwash.
Persuade her companions. She believed that if she let the Sisters walk the path the Bloodmother made her walk in that dream, all her sisters would understand exactly who they should be praying to!
"If Sigmar were only a mortal today! Then he too would be a warrior of the Bloodmother!"
Al looked at the letter the Grand Sister wrote to him. The latter was currently leading the Sisterhood and their follower warbands to camp outside a corrupted forest overrun with Chaos beasts, using the external pressure here to both train her troops and suppress internal conflicts.
"Loyal, unfathomably loyal!"
The Grand Sister's zeal filled Al with profound respect.
He had to help!
These were the Battle Sisters under his future command!