Eighteen years had passed since I woke up in this brutal and savage world. My name was no longer Luke Jonherson but Asvald Ragnarsson, the replacement for the true heir of the Black Sea Clan. According to my mother, Líf, my appearance was identical to that of the son they had lost, a resemblance so uncanny that at times I wondered if this body truly belonged to me or was merely an echo of someone else. My father, Ragnar, was the count of Veøy, a small island off the coast of Norway, a place I barely understood in geographical terms but had learned to accept as my home.
I had become a notable warrior: my first raid was at 18, a coastal village we razed without mercy, and my first kill came shortly after, a man from Wessex who begged for his life before my axe split his skull. Ragnar had told me that I, or rather this body, originally came from Wessex, England, and that the man and woman I saw dead in the hut where I awoke upon transmigrating were my biological parents. A story I had swallowed without questioning too much, because in this world, truth mattered little; what mattered was surviving and conquering.
Now, at 28 in this body, I stood in the central square of Veøy, surrounded by the island's Vikings. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the sharp smell of mead flowing freely. On a giant, intricately carved wooden chair, my father Ragnar presided over the scene, his white hair falling in braids over his muscular shoulders. Beside him was Líf, my adoptive mother, a beautiful 46-year-old woman with vibrant blue hair cascading like a waterfall over her enormous tits, so large they seemed to defy gravity, and an ass so voluptuous it could make any man tremble. But to me, she was too young, too firm; my tastes, rooted in my life as Luke, leaned toward older, wrinkled, experienced women.
Ragnar stood, and the Vikings' murmurs stopped instantly. "It's an honor that you're all here," he roared, his voice echoing across the square. "We've conquered much, and there's still more to conquer. To celebrate, today we'll hold the Victory Orgy." The Victory Orgy was a clan tradition: a night where all the island's inhabitants, without restrictions or taboos, could fuck whoever they wanted, regardless of infidelity or rules.
As soon as he finished speaking, the square exploded into chaos. Men and women stripped naked, their clothes falling to the ground like shed skins, and began fucking without shame. Screams, moans, and laughter filled the air as sweaty bodies intertwined in a frenzy of lust.
I stayed in a corner, still dressed in my wool tunic, sipping mead from a horn. The women in the orgy, young and with firm bodies, weren't my type. I observed the scene with detached curiosity: Líf, on her knees, was sucking the cocks of four warriors at once, her red lips moving with skill as the men grunted in pleasure, their hands tangled in her blue hair. Ragnar, meanwhile, was fucking a girl my age in the ass, his brutal thrusts resonating through the square as she moaned in pleasure, her face contorted in a mix of pain and ecstasy. Both seemed to be enjoying themselves, lost in their own world of lust.
Suddenly, I noticed a banquet being set up by the island's elderly women. They brought food and drink to help the participants recharge their energy but didn't join in the orgy; they were considered unattractive due to their age and worn bodies. To me, however, they were the sexiest thing in the square.
My eyes locked onto Emily, an 80-year-old English slave who had been in Veøy for 30 years. She was short, plump, and, by village standards, ugly: her face was full of wrinkles, her nose crooked, and her teeth yellowed. But her breasts were massive, hanging like heavy sacks beneath her ragged tunic, and according to rumors, they could "feed a pack of wolves." When I saw her slip away toward the forest, I knew it was my chance. I set down the mead horn and began to follow her stealthily, my cock hardening at the thought of fucking her during the orgy.
But before I could take another step, a hand grabbed me. It was Eldrid, a childhood friend my age, an attractive woman with big breasts and a small but well-formed ass. "Asv, do you want to?" she asked, her voice seductive as her hand slid to my crotch, grabbing my cock through the fabric. Her intentions were clear, but she didn't turn me on; she was hot, yes, but not my type.
I gently pushed her hand away and said, "Sorry, Eldrid." Before I could explain, a massive shadow loomed over us. It was Ragnar, my father, completely naked, his enormous cock erect and dripping from his earlier encounter. Eldrid turned, startled, and stammered, "Count!"
Ragnar grinned, his teeth gleaming under the torchlight. "If my idiot son doesn't know how to value a woman like you, let me take care of you." Without waiting for a response, he stripped Eldrid with a swift motion, tearing off her tunic and exposing her firm breasts and pale skin. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and penetrated her with one brutal thrust, his massive cock sliding into her pussy with a wet sound.
Eldrid screamed, more from surprise than pain, as Ragnar fucked her hard, his hands gripping her hips. I, stunned, muttered, "Be considerate, father," before turning and heading toward the forest, leaving behind Eldrid's moans and Ragnar's laughter.
The forest was dark, the branches crunching under my boots as I searched for Emily. My heart pounded with anticipation; this was my chance to satisfy my fetish in a world that finally allowed me to be who I truly was.
I found her by the river, bent over a bucket, collecting fish with the efficiency of someone who'd spent decades perfecting the craft. Emily's massive, fat ass swayed with every fish she snatched from the water, her worn tunic clinging to her plump, wrinkled body. The way her hips rocked as she worked had my cock rock-hard in my pants, straining against the rough fabric.
I crept up behind her, silent as a shadow, and pressed my bulging package right between her enormous cheeks. She jolted at first, a startled gasp escaping her lips as she spun around, water splashing from the bucket. "Asvald, what are you doing here?" she snapped, her voice cracked with age. Then her eyes dropped to my erection, still pressed against her, and realization hit her.
"Asvald, I'm too old," she said quickly, stepping back, her hands clutching the bucket tighter. "I could be your great-great-grandmother. There are plenty of young girls at the orgy today—like Eldrid." She turned back to the river, resuming her task, dismissing me as if I were some horny kid chasing skirts.
But I wasn't having it. My blood boiled—not because she rejected me, but because she thought she had a say in it. "Has anyone asked for your damn opinion, you old fucking whore?" I growled. Emily froze, her weathered face twisting in shock. I had a reputation in Veøy as the quiet, calm warrior, but that was just a façade I'd crafted over the years. The real me, the one born as Luke with a hunger for wrinkled flesh, didn't give a shit about manners.
Before she could respond, I grabbed her arm, yanking her toward me with force. She stumbled, her frail body no match for my strength, and I pinned her to the muddy ground by the riverbank. Her bucket tipped over, fish flopping back into the water. I seized her tunic with both hands and ripped it open, the fabric tearing like dry parchment, exposing her massive, sagging tits. They spilled out, wrinkled and heavy, hanging low over her stout belly—exactly the kind of sight that drove me wild.
"No, Asvald, don't do this!" she pleaded, her voice trembling as she tried to push me off with her weak hands. "Shut the fuck up," I snarled, my tone cold and commanding. In one swift motion, I yanked down her skirt, revealing her unshaven pussy, a thick bush of white hair framing it like a wild forest. She gasped, her eyes widening in panic.
I shoved my pants down, letting my enormous cock spring free, thick and pulsing with need. Emily's jaw dropped, her gaze locked on it. "It's too big!" she cried, her voice a mix of fear and disbelief. But I didn't care. I grabbed her hips, flipped her onto her knees in the mud, and shoved my entire length into her with one brutal thrust.
Her pussy was tight at first—dry and resistant from age—but it gave way under my force, stretching around me as I buried myself to the hilt. Emily let out a sharp scream, her hands clawing at the dirt, her body shuddering beneath me. "Stop, please!" she whimpered, but her protests only fueled me further. I gripped her flabby hips, my fingers sinking into her soft flesh, and started pounding her relentlessly, the wet slap of my balls against her ass echoing through the forest.
At first, she didn't enjoy it. Her groans were pained, her face twisted in discomfort as my cock stretched her old cunt beyond its limits. Mud smeared across her thighs and belly as I fucked her harder, her sagging tits bouncing wildly with each thrust. "You're tearing me apart!" she gasped, her voice hoarse.
But I didn't stop—I couldn't. The sight of her wrinkled body, her giant ass jiggling under my assault, was everything I'd craved since I was Luke. My hands roamed up to her tits, squeezing them roughly, feeling the weight of them in my palms as I slammed into her over and over.
Then something shifted. Her cries softened, turning into low, guttural moans. Her hips, once tense, began to rock back against me, meeting my thrusts with a hesitant rhythm. "Oh… gods…" she muttered, her voice breaking as her body betrayed her resistance. The old bitch was starting to like it.
Her pussy grew wetter, slick with her own juices now, easing my cock's brutal invasion. I smirked, leaning over her, my breath hot against her ear. "That's it, you old slut, take it," I growled, driving deeper. Emily's moans grew louder, her wrinkled hands digging into the mud as she surrendered to the pleasure. "Yes… harder…" she rasped, shocking me with her sudden hunger. Her massive ass clapped against my pelvis, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant roar of the orgy back in the square.
I fucked her like an animal, my cock plunging into her depths with savage force. Her cunt tightened around me, gripping me as she shuddered through an orgasm, her frail body trembling in the dirt. "Asvald!" she screamed, her voice raw with ecstasy, her white hair plastered to her sweaty face.
That pushed me over the edge. With a guttural roar, I slammed into her one last time and came hard, unloading thick ropes of hot cum deep inside her pussy. My seed filled her, spilling out around my cock as I kept thrusting, milking every drop into her worn-out body. Emily collapsed forward, panting heavily, her ass still raised as my cum dripped from her hairy cunt onto the muddy ground.
I pulled out, my cock slick with her juices and my own release, and stood over her, breathing hard. Emily lay there, trembling, her face a mix of exhaustion and reluctant satisfaction. "You… you're a beast," she whispered, her voice shaky but lacking the earlier defiance.
I grinned, wiping the sweat from my brow. "And you loved it, you old hag," I shot back, pulling up my pants. The forest was silent now, save for her ragged breaths and the trickle of the river nearby. Back in the square, the orgy raged on, but I'd gotten what I wanted—Emily, fucked raw and filled with my cum, right here in the dirt.