Showing posts with label Gokkun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gokkun. Show all posts
Friday, September 1, 2017
The Jock and the Sissy
[pre-story]So, this happened. I was originally intending this to be last month's 'free' musing. Then I was just gonna double up and have it count as both last month's and this month's. Now here we are, and it can only be called a full-on chapter.
Mostly, I just wanted to try writing something new, something I hadn't tried before, and I've have a lot of requests for gay stuff. Personally, I consider myself like, a 1 or a 2 on the Kinsey scale, but I've never felt particularly inspired to write about male-on-male stuff, and, obviously, the market leans toward straight stuff. But then I started writing, and the story just kept coming! Inspiration is a fickle mistress.
As always, if you like what you see [redacted]!
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!
WARNING: If you couldn't guess, this story is about two dudes gettin' it on, so if you're not interested, avert your eyes now.[/pre-story]
The Jock and the Sissy
At first glance, Brad looked like the stereotypical dumb jock, with a looming, six-eight, musclebound body, broad shoulders usually draped in a loose-fitting jersey, short-buzzed black hair, a square jaw with perpetual stubble and a heavy brow that made him look like vaguely caveman-ish. But appearances are often deceiving. While he wasn’t particularly smart (or, at least, didn’t consider himself to be), he thought of himself as a rather accepting, progressive sort of guy, a counterpoint to the stereotypical homophobic bully jock. Unfortunately, in his smallish, semi-rural town, he was definitely the exception to the rule, and the rest of the football team was more than happy to live up to that expectation. Though, they quickly learned that Brad wouldn’t tolerate bullying in his presence, and he was big and strong enough to make the fight not worth it, even for a group of them.
That wasn’t to say they didn’t do any bullying. Brad couldn’t be everywhere at once, after all. There was one target in particular the team loved to pick on when Brad wasn’t around. Sam. Short and slim, with mid-length tousled brown hair, even though he was a fellow senior it was easy enough to mistake him for a freshman… or a girl, if you looked at him from the back. It turned out he had some sort of medical thing where he didn’t make testosterone right, and by the time he’d found out about it, it was too late, puberty had passed him by. It left him looking, well… girly. Barely any muscle, almost no body hair, and a face that tread the line between ‘childish’ and ‘feminine’.
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
The Jock and the Sissy [Preview]
[pre-story]So, this happened. I was originally intending this to be last month's 'free' musing. Then I was just gonna double up and have it count as both last month's and this month's. Now here we are, and it can only be called a full-on chapter.
Mostly, I just wanted to try writing something new, something I hadn't tried before, and I've have a lot of requests for gay stuff. Personally, I consider myself like, a 1 or a 2 on the Kinsey scale, but I've never felt particularly inspired to write about male-on-male stuff, and, obviously, the market leans toward straight stuff. But then I started writing, and the story just kept coming! Inspiration is a fickle mistress.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.
WARNING: If you couldn't guess, this story is about two dudes gettin' it on, so if you're not interested, avert your eyes now.
[redacted] [/pre-story]
At first glance, Brad looked like the stereotypical dumb jock, with a looming, six-eight, musclebound body, broad shoulders usually draped in a loose-fitting jersey, short-buzzed black hair, a square jaw with perpetual stubble and a heavy brow that made him look like vaguely caveman-ish. But appearances are often deceiving. While he wasn’t particularly smart (or, at least, didn’t consider himself to be), he thought of himself as a rather accepting, progressive sort of guy, a counterpoint to the stereotypical homophobic bully jock. Unfortunately, in his smallish, semi-rural town, he was definitely the exception to the rule, and the rest of the football team was more than happy to live up to that expectation. Though, they quickly learned that Brad wouldn’t tolerate bullying in his presence, and he was big and strong enough to make the fight not worth it, even for a group of them.
That wasn’t to say they didn’t do any bullying. Brad couldn’t be everywhere at once, after all. There was one target in particular the team loved to pick on when Brad wasn’t around. Sam. Short and slim, with mid-length tousled brown hair, even though he was a fellow senior it was easy enough to mistake him for a freshman… or a girl, if you looked at him from the back. It turned out he had some sort of medical thing where he didn’t make testosterone right, and by the time he’d found out about it, it was too late, puberty had passed him by. It left him looking, well… girly. Barely any muscle, almost no body hair, and a face that tread the line between ‘childish’ and ‘feminine’.
Sam was an easy target for bullies, but thankfully, he had Brad on his side. Ever since freshman year, when Brad had stepped in to stop a couple varsity players from beating him up, Sam had been following him around like a lost puppy. The team didn’t bully him when they were together, and Brad didn’t mind his presence (or help with his math homework). At first, they weren’t really friends, just sorta stuck together, but over time they’d bonded. Turned out sports weren’t so boring to watch once you actually understood what was going on, and once he got over his initial hesitation, Brad discovered he actually really liked anime (though he preferred dubs, the philistine).
Unfortunately for Sam, Brad wasn’t always there. When he’d been called out of lunch to go talk with Coach Holland about a scholarship, Sam knew he was in trouble. When the team closed in on him from all sides, like a pack of wolves, his suspicions were proven right. Jeff had thrown his arm around Sam’s shoulders and smiled and laughed like they were old friends as he guided the smaller boy out into the hall, the rest of the team falling in around them once they were away from the watchful eyes of the teachers. Soon the mask of friendliness was gone, and he was being forcefully led through the halls and outside into the rain-soaked grass, the team forming a living wall of cover to hide him as they dragged him around behind the gym, where the new equipment building was being built.
[/preview]
Mostly, I just wanted to try writing something new, something I hadn't tried before, and I've have a lot of requests for gay stuff. Personally, I consider myself like, a 1 or a 2 on the Kinsey scale, but I've never felt particularly inspired to write about male-on-male stuff, and, obviously, the market leans toward straight stuff. But then I started writing, and the story just kept coming! Inspiration is a fickle mistress.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.
WARNING: If you couldn't guess, this story is about two dudes gettin' it on, so if you're not interested, avert your eyes now.
[redacted] [/pre-story]
At first glance, Brad looked like the stereotypical dumb jock, with a looming, six-eight, musclebound body, broad shoulders usually draped in a loose-fitting jersey, short-buzzed black hair, a square jaw with perpetual stubble and a heavy brow that made him look like vaguely caveman-ish. But appearances are often deceiving. While he wasn’t particularly smart (or, at least, didn’t consider himself to be), he thought of himself as a rather accepting, progressive sort of guy, a counterpoint to the stereotypical homophobic bully jock. Unfortunately, in his smallish, semi-rural town, he was definitely the exception to the rule, and the rest of the football team was more than happy to live up to that expectation. Though, they quickly learned that Brad wouldn’t tolerate bullying in his presence, and he was big and strong enough to make the fight not worth it, even for a group of them.
That wasn’t to say they didn’t do any bullying. Brad couldn’t be everywhere at once, after all. There was one target in particular the team loved to pick on when Brad wasn’t around. Sam. Short and slim, with mid-length tousled brown hair, even though he was a fellow senior it was easy enough to mistake him for a freshman… or a girl, if you looked at him from the back. It turned out he had some sort of medical thing where he didn’t make testosterone right, and by the time he’d found out about it, it was too late, puberty had passed him by. It left him looking, well… girly. Barely any muscle, almost no body hair, and a face that tread the line between ‘childish’ and ‘feminine’.
Sam was an easy target for bullies, but thankfully, he had Brad on his side. Ever since freshman year, when Brad had stepped in to stop a couple varsity players from beating him up, Sam had been following him around like a lost puppy. The team didn’t bully him when they were together, and Brad didn’t mind his presence (or help with his math homework). At first, they weren’t really friends, just sorta stuck together, but over time they’d bonded. Turned out sports weren’t so boring to watch once you actually understood what was going on, and once he got over his initial hesitation, Brad discovered he actually really liked anime (though he preferred dubs, the philistine).
Unfortunately for Sam, Brad wasn’t always there. When he’d been called out of lunch to go talk with Coach Holland about a scholarship, Sam knew he was in trouble. When the team closed in on him from all sides, like a pack of wolves, his suspicions were proven right. Jeff had thrown his arm around Sam’s shoulders and smiled and laughed like they were old friends as he guided the smaller boy out into the hall, the rest of the team falling in around them once they were away from the watchful eyes of the teachers. Soon the mask of friendliness was gone, and he was being forcefully led through the halls and outside into the rain-soaked grass, the team forming a living wall of cover to hide him as they dragged him around behind the gym, where the new equipment building was being built.
[/preview]
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
[Musing] A Class of Their Own
[pre-story] [redacted] Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
A Class of Their Own
“Hyper-pubescence is a hormonal condition affecting approximately 1% of US children today. The true cause of the condition is yet to be proven, but many scientists blame the hormones used in farming to make livestock more productive. The condition is treatable if detected before puberty, but once puberty begins, it cannot be treated. Upon entering puberty, patients experience dramatic development of primary sex characteristics and some secondary sex characteristics, as well as extreme sexual cravings, but often experience delayed, or at least dramatically slowed development of the majority of secondary sex characteristics…”
“Miss Takahashi?” A small voice spoke up.
Yumi looked up from the textbook she was reading from with a sigh. “Yes, Josh?”
“Can I be excused to the bathroom? And Cathy, too?” He asked.
Yumi sighed again, shaking her head. “You may go, but Cathy will have to wait until you bring back the hall pass.” She replied. “You know the rules.”
“Aww...” Josh whined as he stood up from his seat and walked up to Ms. Takahashi’s desk. Yumi shook her head. The boy certainly didn’t LOOK eighteen, but he sure as hell acted like it. He was only about five feet tall, with a wiry build, a childish face, short, messy, sandy blonde hair and big, innocent-looking green eyes. Of course, he looked innocent at first glance, until you noticed the vaguely-predatory way he looked at girls, the subtle smirk at the corner of his lips, and the massive, unmistakable bulge of his groin. It looked like he’d stuffed a grapefruit into the crotch of his pants, along with some manner of enormous sausage which snaked down his thigh almost to his knee, straining at the material.
A Class of Their Own
“Hyper-pubescence is a hormonal condition affecting approximately 1% of US children today. The true cause of the condition is yet to be proven, but many scientists blame the hormones used in farming to make livestock more productive. The condition is treatable if detected before puberty, but once puberty begins, it cannot be treated. Upon entering puberty, patients experience dramatic development of primary sex characteristics and some secondary sex characteristics, as well as extreme sexual cravings, but often experience delayed, or at least dramatically slowed development of the majority of secondary sex characteristics…”
“Miss Takahashi?” A small voice spoke up.
Yumi looked up from the textbook she was reading from with a sigh. “Yes, Josh?”
“Can I be excused to the bathroom? And Cathy, too?” He asked.
Yumi sighed again, shaking her head. “You may go, but Cathy will have to wait until you bring back the hall pass.” She replied. “You know the rules.”
“Aww...” Josh whined as he stood up from his seat and walked up to Ms. Takahashi’s desk. Yumi shook her head. The boy certainly didn’t LOOK eighteen, but he sure as hell acted like it. He was only about five feet tall, with a wiry build, a childish face, short, messy, sandy blonde hair and big, innocent-looking green eyes. Of course, he looked innocent at first glance, until you noticed the vaguely-predatory way he looked at girls, the subtle smirk at the corner of his lips, and the massive, unmistakable bulge of his groin. It looked like he’d stuffed a grapefruit into the crotch of his pants, along with some manner of enormous sausage which snaked down his thigh almost to his knee, straining at the material.
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Musing: Thirsty Work
[pre-story]I'm finally back to work! This one ran a little longer than I planned, but thankfully not so long as to be broken in two. Not sure where the idea came from, but it sprang into being with title and concept fully formed. The story mentions bestiality a couple times, but it's not really delved into in detail, so, if you're not into that, just, you know, be warned. [redacted]Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
My name is Rebecca, and I’m addicted to cum.
I almost wish it were drugs, just because it would be SO much easier to explain. Also, it’d be less of a temptation during the day. Let me try to explain my situation a little bit. I work at a scientific facility, where we study reproduction. My official job title is ‘associate collection specialist’, which basically translates to ‘dick-milker’. Sperm doesn’t tend to last very long outside the body, so we always need fresh samples. Usually, I work with animals, because they really can’t get themselves off, but sometimes I work with humans, when ‘the magazines aren’t enough’. Most of them just want a girl to stroke them off. I’d call them perverts, but I don’t really have a leg to stand on, there. Anyways, when the scientists need sperm, it’s my job to get it.
When first I started working there, I was very clinical, very detached. It’s not sexual, it’s a medical procedure, I just need to extract sperm, right? But once I got used to it… I started to have problems. Cum smells. You probably knew that, but did you know different kinds of cum have different smells? I do. When you milk dicks all day, every day, you become intimately familiar with the subtle distinctions in scent between different sources of cum. You can’t escape the smell, either. It fills the room, it clings to you, and if you breath through your mouth for too long, you start to taste it. Medical face masks are really more to stop stuff from splattering into your face than to filter out smells.
Thing is… I started to like it. I got REALLY good at handjobs, and I began to figure out what different regulars liked. I would catch myself fondling balls, squeezing them, weighing the big ones in my palms. I would find myself panting after an extraction, mouth open just enough to let the scent cling to my tongue. I would spot wet spots on my panties when I took bathroom breaks. I tried to transfer to a new position once I realized what was happening, but what was I supposed to tell my bosses? I was enjoying it too much? I probably could have gotten the transfer if I’d kept trying, but… I just couldn’t convince myself to file the paperwork again.
I’m not sure what it is about cum that gets me so worked up. It doesn’t matter who, or what, it’s from… most of the time. It’s something primitive, primal, in the back of my mind. When I make a subject cum, I feel accomplished, like, ‘I did that, I made this happen, this is my reward’. It sends a shiver down my spine, and my pussy gets wet just thinking about a cock, throbbing, pulsing, with big, fat balls pulled up tight against the base, great big streamers of hot, pearly cum shooting from the swollen tip over and over and over again…
Ahem. Anyways. It was getting worse and worse. One day, though, it all came to a head. Pun not intended. I’d been in the stable all morning with hardly any breaks, collecting samples from the genetically modified horses. Those studs are… either the best or the worst, depending on how guilty I feel. They’re all huge, powerful animals, with cocks as long as my arm, balls like grapefruit, and their cum, oh, lord, their cum. They cum almost violently, shooting cups of some of the thickest, richest, creamiest cum I’ve ever encountered, filling the whole room with that mind-numbing musky scent... Plus, each stud’s first load of the day isn’t valid for study, so it normally just gets disposed of… which means nobody goes looking for it when it goes missing. If I play my cards right I can get nearly a full gallon of stallion-spunk over the course of a day. It goes down like a salty, musky milkshake...
Fuck. Anyways. Back on track. After… that, all morning, my panties were soaked, but there was a human subject that ‘needed a hand’ waiting, and none of the other ‘collection specialists’ were willing to handle him, so I couldn’t exactly go take care of it. So, I headed down to the collection room, resigning myself to squeezing a load out of whatever guy was so repulsive/scary the others wouldn’t take care of him… I don’t know exactly what I was expecting when I walked in, but… I was not expecting this guy. White guy, a little older than usual, maybe mid-thirties, but HUGE. In more ways than one. More than six feet tall, for sure, with broad, square shoulders, arms like tree trunks, eight-pack abs… The guy was layered with rippling muscle from head to toe. He’s handsome, too, short black hair, strong jaw, intense, icy blue eyes… But I didn’t ever register he HAD a face that first time. No, my eyes found the monster between his thighs first, and staunchly refused to look anywhere else after that.
And it WAS a monster, no doubt about it. I had to measure it later, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the numbers. Eighteen-and-one-eighth fucking inches long, and thirteen-and-thirteen-sixteenths inches in circumference at the midpoint. For comparison, that’s slightly bigger, in both length and thickness, than my calf. I’m talking HUGE. And his balls! Like fucking oranges, hanging low and fat in his sack, seemingly heavy with cum… I eventually realized I was staring, but I still couldn’t keep my eyes off it, so I basically ended up doing half my whole ‘Hello, Sir, my name is Rebecca, I’m here to help you blah blah blah, if you have a latex allergy blah blah blah…’ deal directly to his cock. I only vaguely heard the affirmative in his response before I got my whole routine started.
Facemask. Gloves. Measuring tape. Collection vessel. He actually stopped me there and told me I’d need something bigger. Now, I know neither penis or testicle size are directly correlated to seminal volume, but for some reason, looking at that monster, I believed him, so I fished out an unused stallion collection vessel from my bag to use instead. I could barely look away from that cock the entire time. It was almost hypnotic. It certainly didn’t help that I was already weak-in-the-knees horny when I walked in.
Then it was time for the real thing. I laid out my kneeler on the floor and settled in at his feet as professionally as one could while staring transfixed at a cock. He couldn’t see my mouth hanging open in awe behind the face-mask, but I’m pretty sure he got the general impression of my feelings toward that cock from my eyes alone. Finally, I reached up and touched it. The gloves felt like they weren’t even there, I could feel the heat, the power as it bucked at my touch... There was something distinctly erotic about the contrast between my coffee-colored skin and that monstrous marble monolith. My hand seemed so small compared to it, I’d never even seen a cock too big to close my hand around, but this beast, my fingers barely even made it halfway around.
Stroking that monster off was next to impossible. I was supposed to keep one hand free to keep the collector in place, but the shaft was too big around for me to hold it securely with one hand. I had to get creative. I slipped the vessel between my thighs and squeezed them around it to hold it in place as I gripped that glorious cum-cannon with both hands and began to stroke it in earnest. I was practically drooling into my mask, It was just SO big, SO hot, SO hard! I could feel the monster pulsing, bucking with each beat of his heart, threatening to pull itself from my grip every time.
Straining to keep that beast under control as I stroked and milked it was making my arms burn, but I didn’t care. I was practically in a trance as I jerked his length. Looking at the clock afterward told me I spent nearly half and hour stroking that fucking monster, but at the time, it felt like it could just have easily have been hours or minutes before that beastly shaft began to buck and throb even more violently. I knew exactly what that meant, and my hands began to move even faster, all the while struggling to lever the fearsome monster down and aim the tip at the mouth of the collection vessel.
That cock ERUPTED. It almost seemed to rumble as those big, fat balls tightened and the cum-channel bulged, before it gave a violent lurch that ripped it from my hands and aimed that swollen, gleaming tip directly at my face. White-hot molten lust blasted forth like th spray from a firehose, hitting me directly in the face with incredible force, splattering out from the point of impact to cover my glasses and my face-mask in a thick, creamy, gooey layer of spunk. I was caked in the stuff, blinded by the sheer volume of spunk that covered my glasses and was rapidly oozing down from my forehead to glue my eyelids shut. It was so hot, so thick, and it smelled so fucking intense… Every breath through the mask was choked with the potent, musky scent of his cum. I’m pretty sure I had a tiny orgasm right there.
I was barely aware of what I was doing, but apparently, some part of me still wanted to do my job. I reached down, grabbing the vessel and bringing it up, blindly trying to find the tip of his cock with the mouth of it. Thankfully, he was helpful, even in the moment, guiding my hand and the vessel into place as his monster cock fired its second oversized salvo. All I could do was kneel there, blind and half-drowning in cum, my face completely soaked in his hot, creamy load, holding the vessel in place as I felt it grow heavier and heavier with each immense blast of cum, my pussy twitching in time with the spurting cum. I’d completely soaked through my panties, I found the wet spot on the crotch of my pants later.
When he was finally finished, I remember taking off my mask and glasses and struggling to clean off my face with the tissues already in the room. Then I mumbled something about delivering the sample, sealed the almost-overflowing vessel, and exited the room. I was weak-kneed and wobbly on my feet, I must have looked completely wasted as I walked down the hall and stumbled into the bathroom. I wasn’t thinking, clearly, my mind was a muddled mess, but something else was in control and it knew exactly what it needed. I pushed into a stall and sat down on a toilet, the vessel still in hand.
One hand immediately went down, tearing blindly at my belt, my eyes locked on the full vessel in front of me, marvelling at the sheer volume of cum. Not even the horses filled these things that full. As the belt came undone, my hand moved on, unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, giving itself room to work when It plunged down between my belly and my completely soaked panties. With one thumb, I popped the lid on the vessel, ruining the sample and instantly filling the air with the thick scent of cum. I didn’t care, I simply brought the vessel up to my face and drew in a deep breath through my nose, filling my brain with the intoxicating scent as three fingers plunged between my tender lips, there was no need for foreplay or warm-up, I was already INSANELY turned on. I sniffed again, and again, inhaling the musky essence of manhood as my fingers pumped in and out and in and out of my pussy over and over.
I could barely stifle my moans. I knew this was just so wrong, on so many levels, but I just couldn’t stop. I needed that cum, and I needed to cum. That was the moment where I stepped over the line. My lips parted as I whimpered with pleasure, and I could taste the scent of his cum on my tongue. I didn’t even hesitate. I brought the vessel to my lips, threw my head back, and drowned my tongue in a stranger’s cum. The taste, the texture, the lingering heat… the moment it touched my tongue, I came. I came like I never came before. I thought I was going to break a finger as my pussy clamped down and my mind swam in a sea of cum. I swallowed in my orgasmic haze, and felt the thick, creamy treat slide down my throat, coating it, before finally pooling in my stomach. I filled my mouth with another load of spunk and swallowed that too, my body trembling in pleasure the entire time. The vessel seemed endless, the was just so much cum, and each gulp of jizz made my orgasm drag on, the pleasure lingering as I savored the studly spunk.
It was only when the orgasm was over that I realized the cum had run out, that the vessel was empty. My tongue lolled mindlessly out, swirling through the clinging cream around the entrance to the vessel, savoring the sticky seed. I pulled my hand from my panties, my fingers soaked in my nectar, and gave one last swallow before my mind rebooted and I realized the gravity of the situation. I’d just destroyed the sample! The man was on the logs, and there was no way in hell I could get away with just saying he failed to cum after spending that long in the room alone with him. I was on the edge of panic as I frantically straightened my clothes and hair before bolting from the restroom, discarding the vessel in a biohazard bin as I passed, and pushed into the sample room once again.
The guy looked surprised, pausing as he pulled his shirt on again, his perfect fucking cock still hard as steel, pinned against his rugged abs by the waistband of his boxers. I swallowed. There was only one way to get out of this situation and still have a job. “I’m, uh, I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m going to need another sample.” I explained. Then I looked at that cock again, and I lied. “The… um… the first sample collected is often unusable, you see. Yes, the- the sperm is older, so, uh, it’s… it’s better to make sure it’s fresh. So, um, don’t be surprised if this happens again.”
I didn’t bother with the mask and gloves that time, or any of the sessions after that. At first, I tried to be sneaky about what I was doing with the ‘unusable’ sample. I think it was during the fifth session that I just gave up and chugged the sample right in front of him. In the seventh, I didn’t even bother with a vessel for the first load, I simply wrapped my lips around the tip and drank his load straight from the source. Since then, I’ve been sucking the first load out of him. I started sucking off the horses soon after. Sometimes I still milk a load or two out of them and just pour them into a thermos to drink with lunch, but nothing quite beats the taste of cum straight from the tap…
Anyways. That’s my confession. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day and I have a pint of stallion-spunk waiting for me in the fridge.
My name is Rebecca, and I’m addicted to cum.
I almost wish it were drugs, just because it would be SO much easier to explain. Also, it’d be less of a temptation during the day. Let me try to explain my situation a little bit. I work at a scientific facility, where we study reproduction. My official job title is ‘associate collection specialist’, which basically translates to ‘dick-milker’. Sperm doesn’t tend to last very long outside the body, so we always need fresh samples. Usually, I work with animals, because they really can’t get themselves off, but sometimes I work with humans, when ‘the magazines aren’t enough’. Most of them just want a girl to stroke them off. I’d call them perverts, but I don’t really have a leg to stand on, there. Anyways, when the scientists need sperm, it’s my job to get it.
When first I started working there, I was very clinical, very detached. It’s not sexual, it’s a medical procedure, I just need to extract sperm, right? But once I got used to it… I started to have problems. Cum smells. You probably knew that, but did you know different kinds of cum have different smells? I do. When you milk dicks all day, every day, you become intimately familiar with the subtle distinctions in scent between different sources of cum. You can’t escape the smell, either. It fills the room, it clings to you, and if you breath through your mouth for too long, you start to taste it. Medical face masks are really more to stop stuff from splattering into your face than to filter out smells.
Thing is… I started to like it. I got REALLY good at handjobs, and I began to figure out what different regulars liked. I would catch myself fondling balls, squeezing them, weighing the big ones in my palms. I would find myself panting after an extraction, mouth open just enough to let the scent cling to my tongue. I would spot wet spots on my panties when I took bathroom breaks. I tried to transfer to a new position once I realized what was happening, but what was I supposed to tell my bosses? I was enjoying it too much? I probably could have gotten the transfer if I’d kept trying, but… I just couldn’t convince myself to file the paperwork again.
I’m not sure what it is about cum that gets me so worked up. It doesn’t matter who, or what, it’s from… most of the time. It’s something primitive, primal, in the back of my mind. When I make a subject cum, I feel accomplished, like, ‘I did that, I made this happen, this is my reward’. It sends a shiver down my spine, and my pussy gets wet just thinking about a cock, throbbing, pulsing, with big, fat balls pulled up tight against the base, great big streamers of hot, pearly cum shooting from the swollen tip over and over and over again…
Ahem. Anyways. It was getting worse and worse. One day, though, it all came to a head. Pun not intended. I’d been in the stable all morning with hardly any breaks, collecting samples from the genetically modified horses. Those studs are… either the best or the worst, depending on how guilty I feel. They’re all huge, powerful animals, with cocks as long as my arm, balls like grapefruit, and their cum, oh, lord, their cum. They cum almost violently, shooting cups of some of the thickest, richest, creamiest cum I’ve ever encountered, filling the whole room with that mind-numbing musky scent... Plus, each stud’s first load of the day isn’t valid for study, so it normally just gets disposed of… which means nobody goes looking for it when it goes missing. If I play my cards right I can get nearly a full gallon of stallion-spunk over the course of a day. It goes down like a salty, musky milkshake...
Fuck. Anyways. Back on track. After… that, all morning, my panties were soaked, but there was a human subject that ‘needed a hand’ waiting, and none of the other ‘collection specialists’ were willing to handle him, so I couldn’t exactly go take care of it. So, I headed down to the collection room, resigning myself to squeezing a load out of whatever guy was so repulsive/scary the others wouldn’t take care of him… I don’t know exactly what I was expecting when I walked in, but… I was not expecting this guy. White guy, a little older than usual, maybe mid-thirties, but HUGE. In more ways than one. More than six feet tall, for sure, with broad, square shoulders, arms like tree trunks, eight-pack abs… The guy was layered with rippling muscle from head to toe. He’s handsome, too, short black hair, strong jaw, intense, icy blue eyes… But I didn’t ever register he HAD a face that first time. No, my eyes found the monster between his thighs first, and staunchly refused to look anywhere else after that.
And it WAS a monster, no doubt about it. I had to measure it later, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the numbers. Eighteen-and-one-eighth fucking inches long, and thirteen-and-thirteen-sixteenths inches in circumference at the midpoint. For comparison, that’s slightly bigger, in both length and thickness, than my calf. I’m talking HUGE. And his balls! Like fucking oranges, hanging low and fat in his sack, seemingly heavy with cum… I eventually realized I was staring, but I still couldn’t keep my eyes off it, so I basically ended up doing half my whole ‘Hello, Sir, my name is Rebecca, I’m here to help you blah blah blah, if you have a latex allergy blah blah blah…’ deal directly to his cock. I only vaguely heard the affirmative in his response before I got my whole routine started.
Facemask. Gloves. Measuring tape. Collection vessel. He actually stopped me there and told me I’d need something bigger. Now, I know neither penis or testicle size are directly correlated to seminal volume, but for some reason, looking at that monster, I believed him, so I fished out an unused stallion collection vessel from my bag to use instead. I could barely look away from that cock the entire time. It was almost hypnotic. It certainly didn’t help that I was already weak-in-the-knees horny when I walked in.
Then it was time for the real thing. I laid out my kneeler on the floor and settled in at his feet as professionally as one could while staring transfixed at a cock. He couldn’t see my mouth hanging open in awe behind the face-mask, but I’m pretty sure he got the general impression of my feelings toward that cock from my eyes alone. Finally, I reached up and touched it. The gloves felt like they weren’t even there, I could feel the heat, the power as it bucked at my touch... There was something distinctly erotic about the contrast between my coffee-colored skin and that monstrous marble monolith. My hand seemed so small compared to it, I’d never even seen a cock too big to close my hand around, but this beast, my fingers barely even made it halfway around.
Stroking that monster off was next to impossible. I was supposed to keep one hand free to keep the collector in place, but the shaft was too big around for me to hold it securely with one hand. I had to get creative. I slipped the vessel between my thighs and squeezed them around it to hold it in place as I gripped that glorious cum-cannon with both hands and began to stroke it in earnest. I was practically drooling into my mask, It was just SO big, SO hot, SO hard! I could feel the monster pulsing, bucking with each beat of his heart, threatening to pull itself from my grip every time.
Straining to keep that beast under control as I stroked and milked it was making my arms burn, but I didn’t care. I was practically in a trance as I jerked his length. Looking at the clock afterward told me I spent nearly half and hour stroking that fucking monster, but at the time, it felt like it could just have easily have been hours or minutes before that beastly shaft began to buck and throb even more violently. I knew exactly what that meant, and my hands began to move even faster, all the while struggling to lever the fearsome monster down and aim the tip at the mouth of the collection vessel.
That cock ERUPTED. It almost seemed to rumble as those big, fat balls tightened and the cum-channel bulged, before it gave a violent lurch that ripped it from my hands and aimed that swollen, gleaming tip directly at my face. White-hot molten lust blasted forth like th spray from a firehose, hitting me directly in the face with incredible force, splattering out from the point of impact to cover my glasses and my face-mask in a thick, creamy, gooey layer of spunk. I was caked in the stuff, blinded by the sheer volume of spunk that covered my glasses and was rapidly oozing down from my forehead to glue my eyelids shut. It was so hot, so thick, and it smelled so fucking intense… Every breath through the mask was choked with the potent, musky scent of his cum. I’m pretty sure I had a tiny orgasm right there.
I was barely aware of what I was doing, but apparently, some part of me still wanted to do my job. I reached down, grabbing the vessel and bringing it up, blindly trying to find the tip of his cock with the mouth of it. Thankfully, he was helpful, even in the moment, guiding my hand and the vessel into place as his monster cock fired its second oversized salvo. All I could do was kneel there, blind and half-drowning in cum, my face completely soaked in his hot, creamy load, holding the vessel in place as I felt it grow heavier and heavier with each immense blast of cum, my pussy twitching in time with the spurting cum. I’d completely soaked through my panties, I found the wet spot on the crotch of my pants later.
When he was finally finished, I remember taking off my mask and glasses and struggling to clean off my face with the tissues already in the room. Then I mumbled something about delivering the sample, sealed the almost-overflowing vessel, and exited the room. I was weak-kneed and wobbly on my feet, I must have looked completely wasted as I walked down the hall and stumbled into the bathroom. I wasn’t thinking, clearly, my mind was a muddled mess, but something else was in control and it knew exactly what it needed. I pushed into a stall and sat down on a toilet, the vessel still in hand.
One hand immediately went down, tearing blindly at my belt, my eyes locked on the full vessel in front of me, marvelling at the sheer volume of cum. Not even the horses filled these things that full. As the belt came undone, my hand moved on, unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, giving itself room to work when It plunged down between my belly and my completely soaked panties. With one thumb, I popped the lid on the vessel, ruining the sample and instantly filling the air with the thick scent of cum. I didn’t care, I simply brought the vessel up to my face and drew in a deep breath through my nose, filling my brain with the intoxicating scent as three fingers plunged between my tender lips, there was no need for foreplay or warm-up, I was already INSANELY turned on. I sniffed again, and again, inhaling the musky essence of manhood as my fingers pumped in and out and in and out of my pussy over and over.
I could barely stifle my moans. I knew this was just so wrong, on so many levels, but I just couldn’t stop. I needed that cum, and I needed to cum. That was the moment where I stepped over the line. My lips parted as I whimpered with pleasure, and I could taste the scent of his cum on my tongue. I didn’t even hesitate. I brought the vessel to my lips, threw my head back, and drowned my tongue in a stranger’s cum. The taste, the texture, the lingering heat… the moment it touched my tongue, I came. I came like I never came before. I thought I was going to break a finger as my pussy clamped down and my mind swam in a sea of cum. I swallowed in my orgasmic haze, and felt the thick, creamy treat slide down my throat, coating it, before finally pooling in my stomach. I filled my mouth with another load of spunk and swallowed that too, my body trembling in pleasure the entire time. The vessel seemed endless, the was just so much cum, and each gulp of jizz made my orgasm drag on, the pleasure lingering as I savored the studly spunk.
It was only when the orgasm was over that I realized the cum had run out, that the vessel was empty. My tongue lolled mindlessly out, swirling through the clinging cream around the entrance to the vessel, savoring the sticky seed. I pulled my hand from my panties, my fingers soaked in my nectar, and gave one last swallow before my mind rebooted and I realized the gravity of the situation. I’d just destroyed the sample! The man was on the logs, and there was no way in hell I could get away with just saying he failed to cum after spending that long in the room alone with him. I was on the edge of panic as I frantically straightened my clothes and hair before bolting from the restroom, discarding the vessel in a biohazard bin as I passed, and pushed into the sample room once again.
The guy looked surprised, pausing as he pulled his shirt on again, his perfect fucking cock still hard as steel, pinned against his rugged abs by the waistband of his boxers. I swallowed. There was only one way to get out of this situation and still have a job. “I’m, uh, I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m going to need another sample.” I explained. Then I looked at that cock again, and I lied. “The… um… the first sample collected is often unusable, you see. Yes, the- the sperm is older, so, uh, it’s… it’s better to make sure it’s fresh. So, um, don’t be surprised if this happens again.”
I didn’t bother with the mask and gloves that time, or any of the sessions after that. At first, I tried to be sneaky about what I was doing with the ‘unusable’ sample. I think it was during the fifth session that I just gave up and chugged the sample right in front of him. In the seventh, I didn’t even bother with a vessel for the first load, I simply wrapped my lips around the tip and drank his load straight from the source. Since then, I’ve been sucking the first load out of him. I started sucking off the horses soon after. Sometimes I still milk a load or two out of them and just pour them into a thermos to drink with lunch, but nothing quite beats the taste of cum straight from the tap…
Anyways. That’s my confession. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day and I have a pint of stallion-spunk waiting for me in the fridge.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Project Stud: Ch. 2 [Preview]
[pre-story]Hey there, squish here, with a new chapter in the Project Stud story, commissioned by the eternally patient Iceman77. I'm not sure what it was about this story, but it just flowed so beautifully from a writing perspective. Like, I never got stuck on a line, never agonized over a decision, I wrote average or above-average word counts each day I got to actually sit down and write... It was really, really satisfying to see it just pour forth from my keyboard like that. Anyways, you got a nice big ol' chapter to read, so enjoy!
[redacted][/pre-story]
Chapter 2: The Confession
Jessica narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward, hands planted on the table, staring intensely down at the scroll before her, carefully inspecting each and every line of ink. Andrew hovered nearby, the hulking minotaur standing back and to the side, his hands folded behind his back as he chewed his lower lip anxiously. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, the usually-quiet workshop dead silent. Even ever-diligent Alexandra found her attention drawn away from the crystal she was infusing to await the verdict with baited breath.
Finally, the silence broke when Jessica let out a sigh, straightening up once again and turning on on her heel to face Andrew, brow furrowed. “Your air runes are still too rigid. You have to let the brush flow, you can’t write every element like you do earth…” She chided, then paused, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “But... you’re getting much better. I know it’s hard to work against your affinity, and you’ve made a lot of progress.” She added, reassuringly, before turning back to the scroll and giving it one final look. “This will work, though it won’t last as long…” She muttered, suddenly grabbing the scroll and giving it back to Andrew. “Go set up the scribes, and then you’re dismissed for the evening.” She ordered.
Andrew’s face split into a grin as he visibly relaxed, wordlessly taking the scroll and spinning on a hoof, heading over to the scribing tables lined up against the wall. Jessica watched from afar as he laid carefully laid out the scroll on the first one, then blank scrolls on all the others. The corner of her mouth curled into a satisfied smirk. He really was making good progress, particularly since they’d come to their little ‘arrangement’, which she was also pleased to note, didn’t seem to diminish her authority in his eyes. Her gaze lingered on him, slowly drifting down until she realized she was ogling his tight butt through his trousers and abruptly spun back around, tearing her gaze away. Her eyes fell upon Alex, the ashen-skinned dark elf’s own gaze swiftly pulling away from Andrew as well, only to meet her teacher’s. Her eyes widened in a moment of panic, and she swiftly spun around in her seat, suddenly completely focused on her infusion. Jessica smirked once more, striding across the workshop to stand just behind her elven pupil.
“See something more interesting than your assignment? Jessica asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, leaning over the girl’s shoulder.
Alex stiffened, then slumped a bit in her seat as she realized she was well and truly caught. “I’m sorry, Miss Springs, I got distracted…” She tried to explain.
Jessica straightened up, shaking her head and holding up a hand to cut her off. “You’re not in trouble, Alexandra. You’re free to work at your own pace, as long as your assignment gets done.” She explained, pausing for a moment, a look of concern flickering across her face. “...But if there’s something distracting you, it would be wise to address it.”
“I’m all finished with the quills, Miss Springs!” Andrew called from across the workshop, drawing a glance from both girls as he headed for the door. Behind him, the scribing tables were already busy, six floating brushes moving in unison, tracing the lines of his completed scroll onto blank sheets. “I’m heading out!” He added, giving a small wave as he ducked his horns through the doorframe, disappearing out the door with surprising speed, considering his bulk.
Alex stared at the empty doorframe for a moment, her hand slowly sinking back down after waving goodbye. She glanced up at Jessica, then sighed, looking down again. “...Can I ask you something?”
Jessica arched an eyebrow, curious. “Of course.”
Alex looked up again, meeting her teacher’s eyes. “What did you do to Drew?”
[redacted][/pre-story]
Chapter 2: The Confession
Jessica narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward, hands planted on the table, staring intensely down at the scroll before her, carefully inspecting each and every line of ink. Andrew hovered nearby, the hulking minotaur standing back and to the side, his hands folded behind his back as he chewed his lower lip anxiously. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, the usually-quiet workshop dead silent. Even ever-diligent Alexandra found her attention drawn away from the crystal she was infusing to await the verdict with baited breath.
Finally, the silence broke when Jessica let out a sigh, straightening up once again and turning on on her heel to face Andrew, brow furrowed. “Your air runes are still too rigid. You have to let the brush flow, you can’t write every element like you do earth…” She chided, then paused, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “But... you’re getting much better. I know it’s hard to work against your affinity, and you’ve made a lot of progress.” She added, reassuringly, before turning back to the scroll and giving it one final look. “This will work, though it won’t last as long…” She muttered, suddenly grabbing the scroll and giving it back to Andrew. “Go set up the scribes, and then you’re dismissed for the evening.” She ordered.
Andrew’s face split into a grin as he visibly relaxed, wordlessly taking the scroll and spinning on a hoof, heading over to the scribing tables lined up against the wall. Jessica watched from afar as he laid carefully laid out the scroll on the first one, then blank scrolls on all the others. The corner of her mouth curled into a satisfied smirk. He really was making good progress, particularly since they’d come to their little ‘arrangement’, which she was also pleased to note, didn’t seem to diminish her authority in his eyes. Her gaze lingered on him, slowly drifting down until she realized she was ogling his tight butt through his trousers and abruptly spun back around, tearing her gaze away. Her eyes fell upon Alex, the ashen-skinned dark elf’s own gaze swiftly pulling away from Andrew as well, only to meet her teacher’s. Her eyes widened in a moment of panic, and she swiftly spun around in her seat, suddenly completely focused on her infusion. Jessica smirked once more, striding across the workshop to stand just behind her elven pupil.
“See something more interesting than your assignment? Jessica asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, leaning over the girl’s shoulder.
Alex stiffened, then slumped a bit in her seat as she realized she was well and truly caught. “I’m sorry, Miss Springs, I got distracted…” She tried to explain.
Jessica straightened up, shaking her head and holding up a hand to cut her off. “You’re not in trouble, Alexandra. You’re free to work at your own pace, as long as your assignment gets done.” She explained, pausing for a moment, a look of concern flickering across her face. “...But if there’s something distracting you, it would be wise to address it.”
“I’m all finished with the quills, Miss Springs!” Andrew called from across the workshop, drawing a glance from both girls as he headed for the door. Behind him, the scribing tables were already busy, six floating brushes moving in unison, tracing the lines of his completed scroll onto blank sheets. “I’m heading out!” He added, giving a small wave as he ducked his horns through the doorframe, disappearing out the door with surprising speed, considering his bulk.
Alex stared at the empty doorframe for a moment, her hand slowly sinking back down after waving goodbye. She glanced up at Jessica, then sighed, looking down again. “...Can I ask you something?”
Jessica arched an eyebrow, curious. “Of course.”
Alex looked up again, meeting her teacher’s eyes. “What did you do to Drew?”
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Musing: Dibella's Gift
[pre-story]Another short patreon musing, this one suggested by Iceman77! I had fun writing this one! I couldn't decide on the dragonborn at first, but then I had an idea for something new, something to mix things up a bit, and then it all came together. This is my first futa story! I admit, it's a little more difficult to write a futa than I expected, and it probably doesn't help that there were a lot of ladies involved here so pronouns got all mixed up sometimes, but it was interesting. Maybe I'll continue this later on, who knows. Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
“This way.” A priestess in brown robes and a yellow-gold hood and mantle spoke, gesturing the dragonborn to follow her deeper into the temple. The proud imperial woman followed, walking with a confidence forged in dragonfire, passing between a pair of golden statues of the goddess Dibella, her beauty so radiant that even those icons of beauty and womanhood seemed pale by comparison. She was like a dream come to life. Men and women alike lusted over her, over her breasts, perfectly-formed and shapely mounds the size of ripe melons, over her hourglass curves, over her thick, jiggling backside and long, shapely legs. Others envied her for her smooth, pale, flawless skin, her full, plush, pink lips, her regal features, her commanding presence, her subtle strength. She was dressed lightly, wearing only a knee-length green dress with a slit running up one thigh and a leather corset around her narrow waist, the plunging neckline exposing a deep valley of flawless, creamy cleavage. But despite her beauty, there was a coldness to her, she seemed somehow untouchable, unapproachable, and no matter what brave soul made an advance on her, she always turned them down cold. Her soft leather boots padded across the stone floor, only to suddenly come to a stop as her guide halted in front of a pair of dwemer-made double doors. “In here.” She said, pushing them open.
“This way.” A priestess in brown robes and a yellow-gold hood and mantle spoke, gesturing the dragonborn to follow her deeper into the temple. The proud imperial woman followed, walking with a confidence forged in dragonfire, passing between a pair of golden statues of the goddess Dibella, her beauty so radiant that even those icons of beauty and womanhood seemed pale by comparison. She was like a dream come to life. Men and women alike lusted over her, over her breasts, perfectly-formed and shapely mounds the size of ripe melons, over her hourglass curves, over her thick, jiggling backside and long, shapely legs. Others envied her for her smooth, pale, flawless skin, her full, plush, pink lips, her regal features, her commanding presence, her subtle strength. She was dressed lightly, wearing only a knee-length green dress with a slit running up one thigh and a leather corset around her narrow waist, the plunging neckline exposing a deep valley of flawless, creamy cleavage. But despite her beauty, there was a coldness to her, she seemed somehow untouchable, unapproachable, and no matter what brave soul made an advance on her, she always turned them down cold. Her soft leather boots padded across the stone floor, only to suddenly come to a stop as her guide halted in front of a pair of dwemer-made double doors. “In here.” She said, pushing them open.
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Musing- The Last of the Giants
[pre-story]The last giant and his beautiful lover find a moment of tenderness in a cave while on the run. [redacted][/pre-story]
The Last of the Giants
Asha stared into the dancing flames of the campfire like they would give her an answer, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the stack of furs and leaves that served as a bed. Orange firelight gleamed the cave walls and her ebony skin, the flickering light casting shadows on her face. Back in the village, she’d been praised for her beauty, for her smooth skin, her soft features, her wide hips, her toned waist, and her full breasts, each shapely mound the size of a ripe melon. When she’d come of age, men had come from distant cities, offering her father herds of goats, bushels of grains, fine pottery, luxurious furs, and even spears of iron in exchange for her hand in marriage. Even now, that beauty was still clear, even if her short, curly black hair wasn’t quite as neatly trimmed as it once was, even if she was covered in dirt and scratches, even if her clothes were ragged, even if her eyes were red with smoke and tears.
The Last of the Giants
Asha stared into the dancing flames of the campfire like they would give her an answer, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the stack of furs and leaves that served as a bed. Orange firelight gleamed the cave walls and her ebony skin, the flickering light casting shadows on her face. Back in the village, she’d been praised for her beauty, for her smooth skin, her soft features, her wide hips, her toned waist, and her full breasts, each shapely mound the size of a ripe melon. When she’d come of age, men had come from distant cities, offering her father herds of goats, bushels of grains, fine pottery, luxurious furs, and even spears of iron in exchange for her hand in marriage. Even now, that beauty was still clear, even if her short, curly black hair wasn’t quite as neatly trimmed as it once was, even if she was covered in dirt and scratches, even if her clothes were ragged, even if her eyes were red with smoke and tears.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Happy Birthday: Ch. 2 [Comm]
[pre-story]Hey there, Squish here, with the much-anticipated continuation of the Happy Birthday story! Between writer's block, negotiations for a book deal, my computer's self-destruct and subsequent replacement, unavoidable family obligations, and my toe's attempt at rebellion, this one's seen a lot of delays. But worry not, I'm back in the saddle, writin' up a storm! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, I like to think it was worth the wait! If you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Content Warnings: unrealistic anatomy, incest, huge cocks, giant breasts, exhibition, excessive cum, cum drinking.
Chapter 2: The Main Event
John couldn’t help but watch as his mother climbed the stairs to the stage ahead of him, entranced by the almost hypnotic sway of her wide hips. With each step, her red stilettos tapped sharply on the stairs, and her mature, child-bearing hips swayed, sending her mouth-watering ass jiggling, tantalizingly close.The temptation to reach out, sink his fingers into that perfect ass and give it a greedy squeeze was almost overwhelming. He might have done it, were his hands not occupied holding on to a sister apiece. As his mother climbed, his eyes followed her, taking in the sight with blatant hunger.
When Ava reached the top, she paused, glancing back toward her son, throwing her long, dark, wavy hair out of the way as she twisted at the waist. John hesitated, stunned by the vision of beauty and sexuality before him. The stage lights made Ava’s flawlessly tanned skin glow. One long, shapely leg emerged from the slit in her evening gown, drawing the eye up toward her magnificent ass. The bright red, slinky material of her gown left nothing to the imagination, clinging to every curve of her mature, hourglass figure. Twisted like she was, her mountainous, beach-ball-sized tits jutted from her chest in what could only be described as a truly epic rack. The bedroom eyes she shot him and the soft smirk that tugged the corners of her full, red-painted lips up toward her cheekbones told him the view wasn’t entirely accidental.
Content Warnings: unrealistic anatomy, incest, huge cocks, giant breasts, exhibition, excessive cum, cum drinking.
Chapter 2: The Main Event
John couldn’t help but watch as his mother climbed the stairs to the stage ahead of him, entranced by the almost hypnotic sway of her wide hips. With each step, her red stilettos tapped sharply on the stairs, and her mature, child-bearing hips swayed, sending her mouth-watering ass jiggling, tantalizingly close.The temptation to reach out, sink his fingers into that perfect ass and give it a greedy squeeze was almost overwhelming. He might have done it, were his hands not occupied holding on to a sister apiece. As his mother climbed, his eyes followed her, taking in the sight with blatant hunger.
When Ava reached the top, she paused, glancing back toward her son, throwing her long, dark, wavy hair out of the way as she twisted at the waist. John hesitated, stunned by the vision of beauty and sexuality before him. The stage lights made Ava’s flawlessly tanned skin glow. One long, shapely leg emerged from the slit in her evening gown, drawing the eye up toward her magnificent ass. The bright red, slinky material of her gown left nothing to the imagination, clinging to every curve of her mature, hourglass figure. Twisted like she was, her mountainous, beach-ball-sized tits jutted from her chest in what could only be described as a truly epic rack. The bedroom eyes she shot him and the soft smirk that tugged the corners of her full, red-painted lips up toward her cheekbones told him the view wasn’t entirely accidental.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Happy Birthday: Ch. 2 [Comm][Preview]
[pre-story]Hey there, squish here, with the much-anticipated continuation of the Happy Birthday story! Between writer's block, negotiations for a book deal, my computer's self-destruct and subsequent replacement, unavoidable family obligations, and my toe's attempt at rebellion, this one's seen a lot of delays. I'm laughably far behind schedule for the month. But worry not, I'm back in the saddle, writin' up a storm! I'm already a thousand words into the new chapter of By The Horns! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy your preview! [redacted][/pre-story]
Chapter 2: The Main Event
John couldn’t help but watch as his mother climbed the stairs to the stage ahead of him, entranced by the almost hypnotic sway of her wide hips. With each step, her red stilettos tapped sharply on the stairs, and her mature, child-bearing hips swayed, sending her mouth-watering ass jiggling, tantalizingly close.The temptation to reach out, sink his fingers into that perfect ass and give it a greedy squeeze was almost overwhelming. He might have done it, were his hands not occupied holding on to a sister apiece. As his mother climbed, his eyes followed her, taking in the sight with blatant hunger.
Chapter 2: The Main Event
John couldn’t help but watch as his mother climbed the stairs to the stage ahead of him, entranced by the almost hypnotic sway of her wide hips. With each step, her red stilettos tapped sharply on the stairs, and her mature, child-bearing hips swayed, sending her mouth-watering ass jiggling, tantalizingly close.The temptation to reach out, sink his fingers into that perfect ass and give it a greedy squeeze was almost overwhelming. He might have done it, were his hands not occupied holding on to a sister apiece. As his mother climbed, his eyes followed her, taking in the sight with blatant hunger.
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