"Fuck, I’m gonna be a dad—wait a damn minute, how the hell did I knock up a GILF?" I muttered, sprawled naked on my bed, the rough furs sticking to my sweaty skin. Líf was on my left, her fat tits pressed against my arm, her breath slow and heavy in sleep. Emily was on my right, her wrinkled old body curled up, her saggy ass brushing my hip. I’d just found out my slutty GILF was pregnant with my kid, and shit, it hit me—I’m gonna be a father. Truth be told, it wasn’t bad. In this fucked-up world, I could pump babies into GILFs, and that thought lit a fire in my head. I started picturing it—Emily’s belly swollen huge, her tits even bigger, leaking milk all over the pce. In less than a second, my cock shot up hard as a rock, throbbing against the furs. "Fuck, man, who do I blow off with now?" I growled under my breath, eyeing the two of them. With a quick finger game in my head, I picked Emily.

  She was out cold, snoring softly, her fat rolls shifting with each breath. I slid closer, quiet as a shadow, spooning her from behind. My cock, stiff and leaking, pressed against her hairy cunt, and I shoved it in with one smooth thrust—no warning, just straight in. Her pussy was still tight, slick from st night’s mess, and I fucked her slow, my hips rocking against her saggy ass. The bed creaked faintly, but she didn’t stir, her snores steady as I pumped into her. Her warmth gripped me, and I didn’t st long—gritted my teeth and came fast, unloading a quick, hot burst of cum into her cunt. It spilled deep, mixing with whatever was already there, and I pulled out, my dick slick and dripping, smirking as she slept through it, clueless.

  .......

  I’d made it to Kattegat—fuck yeah, just like that, in the blink of an eye. But I’d come alone, rocking a shitty little boat that looked harmless as hell. I’d dyed my hair bck, covering up the white so no one would clock me, and ditched Asvald for a new name: Skarnulf, weapon sharpener. Truth be told, I could’ve sent one of my crew to py this role, but I didn’t trust those dumbasses to pull it off right. The pn was simple—y low, sniff out everything I could about this pce, then send a raven back to my people to kick off the siege. Easy shit, if I didn’t fuck it up.

  I was parked in the middle of Kattegat’s pza, grinding a knife against a whetstone, the scrape of steel on rock cutting through the bustle around me. Some chick had handed it over to sharpen, and when I finished, she took it back with a nod. "Thanks," she muttered, her voice soft but steady. She was a looker—bck hair, brown eyes, maybe 60 years old, with sharp, exotic features that screamed eastern, not western. My GILF radar pinged hard—her tits were big under her worn tunic, her ass thick from what I could see. Jackpot. "Where you from?" she asked, eyeing me. "Gotnd," I lied smooth, flipping the whetstone in my hand. "You?" She sighed, her gaze drifting. "A far-off isnd. I was a fisherwoman—storm hit my boat, drowned me. Washed up in the Caucasus, then dragged to some shithole called Kiev. Got sold here by traders. Raped a bunch, had a kid. Now I’m a cook in the Snake Cn’s hall, a sve like my son."

  Her voice went all mopey, her eyes gzing over with some sad bullshit, but I didn’t give a fuck about her sob story—I was too busy staring at her tits, picturing them bouncing free. Still, her being a sve to King Eirik, the Snake Cn’s head honcho, was gold. I could use her, get the dirt I needed, then cim her as my third wife. Sticking out my hand, I grinned. "I’m Skarnulf. You?" She hesitated, then shook it, her grip firm. "Yuki," she said, her brown eyes flicking over me. "You got pns tonight?" I asked, leaning in. "Gotta clean the warships," she replied, shrugging. "Mind if I keep you company?" She paused, sizing me up, muttering, "You sure you won’t get bored talking to a grandma?" I smirked. "Not a chance." She nodded, a faint smile tugging her lips, then turned to go, her fat ass swaying under her skirt—damn, that thing’s birthed a kid, I thought, my cock twitching as I watched her shuffle off.