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Impy wasn’t sure how her son had gotten so big after two decades, but it was sure he’d taken after his father. Unfortunately, this led him to find the same things out as his father... namely the collar that Anselm had first used in their mating. Impy couldn’t remember how it happened at all. How had the lead gotten around her wrists? How did Gerulf have her balanced between his legs with a thick boner trailing pre along her thighs? The furry sheath teased against her, she was sure, but she hardly could recall what was going on.
It all happened so fast that the imp felt her life was in a panic flurry before a hard; insistent poking pushed between her nethers. She struggled but her arms were bound and she tried to squirm away from the spade-tipped head forcing her open. Despite her struggling, she was wet. This was her son, it was wrong… but she had a weakness for big dogs, as Gerulf’s father had shown her. She’d continued their relations much past when she’d needed to. She had little time to dwell on her feelings of perversion or attempts to tell her son that this was wrong. Instead, the thick dick shoved up into her, parting her tight passage. Impy cried out, half in pain and half in the pleasure of being spread so open. Gritting her teeth, she felt the thrusts bury her son deeper and deeper inside her. Precum dripped out in dollops between their legs as the heavy balls slapped against her.
The demoness grit her teeth, feeling Gerulf’s paws grip her thighs, contorting her more tightly to his body, caressing her as he humped into her desperately. The hot breath against her neck and the too large shaft pounding in her made her cheeks burn. She was turned on, she wanted this, and she was disgusted herself for it. It felt so wrong, but god did her son’s pounding inside her feel so right. Despite her shaking, she found herself leaning into Gerulf’s strong chest. Thick fur bristled around her, his muzzle nuzzling fondly into her neck. The imp felt herself arching, even before the long tongue snaked over her breasts, teasing and squeezing her nipples.
In the haze of sex, Impy found words pouring from her mouth; a stream of begging. She wasn’t sure if it was to tell him to stop or keep going. With a start, she felt the swelling knot struggle to bury itself in her with the rest of the length inside of her. She was already so full, but the paws on her hips forced her down with a final upwards thrust. Slamming into her, the knot tied them thick; thicker than blood and tight as the Imp ever was. Impy cried out as her son held her tight, spilling his fertile seed inside of her as he continued the same line as his father had.