Even after cumming twice, Oliver's dick did not show any sign of going down. The only change was that Oliver was becoming more aggressive. It was alright till the first vial of aphrodisiac, but the second one crashed his mind. The aphrodisiac had taken over his mind fully.

Now he wasn't the one doing the talk. The aphrodisiac was making him talk. He was like a beast ready to mate.

Oliver's eyes glazed over with raw, primal hunger, his breaths coming in heavy, ragged snarls. The potion burned through his veins like liquid fire, stripping away any remnants of restraint. His cock throbbed, veins bulging, slick with cum and Isolde's juices, pointing straight up like a weapon ready to conquer. He grabbed Isolde by the hips, flipping her onto her back with a force that made the bed creak in protest. "Mine," he growled, voice guttural, not his own—deeper, animalistic. "Gonna fuck you both till you break."

Isolde's eyes widened for a split second, surprise flashing across her face before melting into a wicked grin. "Oh, fuck yes," she purred, spreading her legs wide, her pussy still dripping from his last load, swollen lips parted and begging for more. "Come on, beast. Show me what that potion's done to you."

Serena, still panting from her own orgasm, froze on the edge of the bed, her thighs slick with her own juices. "O-Oliver? You okay?" she stammered, but her voice trembled with a mix of fear and arousal, her nipples hardening as she watched him transform.

Oliver didn't answer with words. He lunged at her, yanking her by the ankle and dragging her beneath him. His hands were rough, pinning her wrists above her head as he shoved his face between her tits, sucking hard on one nipple while his free hand mauled the other, squeezing until she yelped. "Shut up and spread," he snarled, biting down just enough to leave a mark. "Gonna fill this cunt next."

Serena gasped, her body arching instinctively, a flood of wetness pooling between her legs. "Ah—fuck, Oliver! Yes... take me," she moaned, her hesitation crumbling under the raw dominance. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her soaked pussy against his thigh, desperate for friction.

Isolde laughed, low and throaty, crawling over to join them. "That's my boy," she said, her voice dripping with lust. She positioned herself behind Oliver, her tits pressing against his back as she reached around to stroke his cock, guiding it toward Serena's entrance. "Pound her first. Make her scream. Then it's my turn to ride that monster."

Oliver thrust forward without warning, slamming balls-deep into Serena's tight, dripping pussy in one brutal stroke. She screamed, her walls clenching around him like a vice, the sudden stretch burning deliciously. "Oh god—fuck! Too big—ahhh!" Her hips bucked wildly, nails raking down his back as he started pounding her relentlessly, each thrust slapping wetly against her ass, his balls smacking her skin with obscene force.

"Fuck, you're tight," Oliver grunted, the aphrodisiac fueling his words, his hips pistoning like a machine. "Gonna stretch this hole till it gapes. Cum for me, slut—milk my cock."

Serena's eyes rolled back, her moans turning into incoherent cries as he hammered her g-spot, her tits bouncing with every impact. "Yes—harder! Fuck me raw—oh shit, I'm cumming already!" Her body convulsed, pussy squirting around his cock, soaking the sheets as her orgasm ripped through her.

Isolde watched, biting her lip, her fingers diving into her own pussy as she fingered herself to the sight. "Don't stop, Ollie. Wreck her." She leaned in, capturing Serena's mouth in a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss, swallowing her screams while pinching her nipples hard.

Oliver pulled out abruptly, his cock glistening with Serena's cum, and flipped her onto her stomach like a ragdoll. "Ass up," he commanded, smacking her cheeks until they reddened. Serena obeyed, whimpering as she presented herself, her pussy and ass on full display, dripping and twitching.

He didn't hesitate—thrusting back into her pussy from behind, deeper this time, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Take it all," he snarled, pounding her doggy-style, the bed shaking under the force. Serena's face buried in the pillow, muffling her wails as another orgasm built, her body trembling.

Isolde slid underneath Serena, positioning her face right under her dripping pussy. "Let me taste that mess," she demanded, her tongue lapping at where Oliver's cock slammed in and out, slurping up the mixed juices. Her hands spread Serena's ass cheeks wider, fingers teasing her puckered hole. "Mmm, fuck, you two taste like sin."

Oliver groaned at the added sensation, Isolde's tongue flicking his balls mid-thrust. "Lick it clean, bitch," he ordered, pulling out just enough to shove his cock into Isolde's mouth, fucking her throat for a few brutal strokes before plunging back into Serena. "Gonna cum in both of you—breed you like whores."

Serena shattered again, her scream raw as she squirted onto Isolde's face, her body collapsing forward. Oliver didn't let up, flipping her aside and turning his feral gaze on Isolde. "Your turn. Bend over."

Isolde complied eagerly, getting on all fours, her ass high and inviting, pussy leaking his previous load. "Come on, beast—fuck me senseless," she taunted, wiggling her hips.

He mounted her like an animal, slamming in with a roar, his pace even more savage now. "Tight fucking cunt—gonna ruin it," he growled, one hand yanking her hair back, the other slapping her ass repeatedly, leaving red handprints. Isolde moaned like a pornstar, pushing back against him, her tits swinging wildly.

Serena, recovering slightly, crawled over and straddled Isolde's back, facing Oliver. She ground her pussy against Isolde's spine, leaning forward to kiss him fiercely, her tongue battling his as she reached down to rub Isolde's clit. "Cum inside her—fill her up while I make her explode," she whispered, her fingers working fast, slick with cum.

Isolde bucked, her moans escalating. "Fuck—yes! Harder, Ollie—break me! Serena, don't stop—oh god, I'm gonna—"

Oliver's thrusts turned erratic, the aphrodisiac pushing him to the brink. "Take my load—both of you!" He pulled out at the last second, shoving Isolde down and spraying thick ropes of cum across her ass and back, some landing on Serena's tits as she leaned in. Then, without pause, he grabbed Serena and thrust back into her, pumping the rest deep inside her pussy.

The three collapsed in a sweaty, cum-soaked heap, breaths heaving, bodies twitching from aftershocks. But Oliver's cock still twitched, hard and ready, the potion far from worn off. "More," he grunted, eyes wild. "Not done yet."

Isolde laughed breathlessly, wiping cum from her lips. "Fuck, what have I created?"

Serena, spent but aroused, smirked. "A monster."

The whole night passed Oliver tossing and turning both the girls.

~~~~

Morning sunlight filtered weakly through the half-drawn curtains, casting a faint golden hue across the room. The faint scent of oil and sweat still lingered in the air — a reminder of the chaotic night that had just passed.

Serena was the first to wake.

Her biological clock never failed her; she always woke around five in the morning, no matter how late she'd gone to bed. But today, her body protested even that. Her limbs ached like they had been crushed under a boulder. Her eyes were red, heavy, and she could barely move an inch without groaning.

She lay there for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling. Every muscle screamed at her to lie still, but she knew she couldn't. The inn had to open. Breakfast needed to be prepared. Guests would be up soon.

"Ugh... I feel like I've been hit by a wagon," she muttered, groaning as she pushed herself up. Her body trembled slightly, sore from head to toe.

Her gaze drifted toward the bed — and she froze for a second before chuckling faintly.

There, tangled in the crumpled sheets, were Oliver and Isolde. Naked, limbs entwined, fast asleep. Their bodies were still close, faces relaxed, as if the night's chaos had melted into peaceful exhaustion.

Serena couldn't help but smile faintly. "Haah… look at you two," she murmured, shaking her head. "You really turned my room into a battlefield."

She remembered flashes from the night before — Oliver's strength, Isolde's unrestrained passion, the wild pace that had carried them from one end of the room to the other. Bed, floor, wall, even the window — she had lost count of the positions, of the places they'd ended up in.

Her whole body throbbed with the aftermath, but… there was a quiet satisfaction behind her tired smile. It had been years since she'd felt that alive. Years since anyone had made her feel wanted.

Her expression softened as her gaze fell on Oliver again. "That brat really is something," she muttered under her breath with a faint laugh.

She leaned back, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Ten years… That's how long it had been since she'd last been with anyone. The last time had been with her husband — another adventurer, much like Oliver. Brave, reckless, always smiling.

But the job had taken him, as it did so many others. He'd gone on a mission and never returned. After that, Serena had buried her loneliness under work. She poured everything into running the inn, raising her daughter, and making sure their lives stayed steady.

She'd done well. The inn thrived, customers came and went, and the money she made was enough to send her daughter to a noble's academy — something her husband had always dreamed of.

But even so… there had always been a quiet emptiness. A space that work couldn't fill. And now, for the first time in years, that space felt warm again.

Her lips curled into a small, contented smile. "Guess I still have some life left in me," she whispered to herself.

But the reality of morning soon crept back in. The inn wouldn't run itself.

With a groan, she swung her legs off the bed and stood up, her joints protesting with every motion. She glanced at the sleeping pair one last time — Isolde's arm draped loosely over Oliver's chest, his hair a complete mess — and chuckled.

"They're going to sleep till noon at this rate," she muttered.

Pulling her robe over her shoulders, she tied the sash and quietly stepped out of the room. Her movements were slow, almost cautious, as if she feared waking the beasts she had unleashed last night.

As she closed the door behind her, she let out a long breath and smiled faintly.

"Tch. Horny bastards," she said under her breath, amusement coloring her tone.

Downstairs, the inn was silent. The early chill of dawn brushed against her skin as she started lighting the stoves. The smell of burning wood and rising heat soon filled the space.

Her body still ached, but her heart felt… lighter. Maybe even happy.

For once, she wasn't just an innkeeper or a widow. She was a woman who had laughed, lived, and let herself feel again — even if only for a night.

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