[pre-story]Last musing of the month is another installment of Lien's Adventures! Lien visits and old flame, and things quickly get heated! Clickbait aside, though, there's no actual sex in this one, just a fight scene I enjoyed writing way too much to stop, with some relationship-establishing dialogue in there. Next time, though, I can get straight to the fun stuff.
I always worry when I post stuff that isn't at least 50% sex. I figure you guys are here for the smut, after all, so I try to deliver that. But then, I suppose stuff like this is just going to happen from time to time, and stressing myself out over it isn't going to do anyone any good. Inspiration is a fickle mistress.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see [redacted][/pre-story]
When you ask a mainlander to describe a pandaren, they usually use words like ‘honorable’, ‘friendly’, ‘wise’ or ‘fat’. Rarely is ‘intimidating’ on the list. Kenneth, however, was learning the hard way that it was very appropriate, at least, when Cheng Stoutbarrel, honored brewmaster and his boss, loomed over him with a fire burning in his eyes. The pandaren man’s massive bulk, impressive height, and broad, powerful shoulders were plenty intimidating on their own. But add to that the man’s legendary status and position, his sheer presence, and the suddenly-clear memory of that one time he punched a hole in an oak barrel, and they all combined to completely overwhelm the smaller human. Kenneth flattened himself against the wall, shrinking away from the brewmaster’s infamous wrath. “I- I’m sorry, sir, I-”
“YOU WHAT?!” Cheng demanded with a mighty roar, cutting off Kenneth’s stammering apology. “YOU DIDN’T FUCKING THINK, THAT’S WHAT! LOOK AT THIS!” He commanded, gesturing wildly at a nearby keg,half-buried in a mound of rapidly-expanding foam, more and more pouring out of the open tap-hole. “IT’S FUCKING RUINED! I CAN’T FUCKING SERVE THIS SHIT! OM NOM, DID YOU EVEN LOOK AT WHAT YOU WERE ADDING? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?” He bellowed, lapsing into Pandaren for a moment to properly express his fury. “GET THE FUCK OUT! GET OUT OF MY BREWERY! YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED!”
As Kenneth broke down crying, a new voice called out from behind the furious pandaren. “Om nom, Chug, still got that temper, huh?”
Showing posts with label Musing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musing. Show all posts
Monday, October 2, 2017
[Musing] The Tale of Mirabel and Erik the Pure, P.2
[pre-story]The conclusion to the patron-requested story of a lovely angel and her long-lost mortal love in paradise! Not much to say on this one, so just enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Mirabel stood there, nude. She was a vision of angelic perfection, literally and figuratively. Her smooth, pale skin was devoid of even the smallest of blemishes, her face was soft and kind, her cheeks bearing a rosy flush, her full lips naturally pink, her features framed by long, wavy golden hair and lit by the golden glow of the halo hovering just inches over her head. Her body was equally divine, an hourglass figure, curves that even the most beautiful of mortal women would envy, but not so exaggerated they looked unnatural. Her breasts were perfect, supple mounds the size of oranges that sat proudly on her chest, riding high without the slightest hint of sag, with the unmistakable shape and softness of natural breasts. Her silhouette tapered in at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, with just the faintest hint of healthy tone beneath it, then flared out into generous, rounded hips that in turn tapered down to shapely thighs, the perfect blend of firm muscle and soft flesh. Between those thighs laid the promised land, her womanhood, a small patch of golden cotton candy fuzz on her pubic bone her only body hair, her outer lips modestly closed, but still flushed rosy-pink, swollen and glistening with desire. Behind her, her glorious wings were half-spread, their neatly-groomed feathers so bright white they almost seemed to glow.
Erik, still on his knees in the seemingly endless field of flowers, could only stare up at her body with blatant awe. She was… divine. That was only word that could possibly describe her. There was a moment of silence as his gaze drank in her beauty, marvelling at every inch of her like he was studying a work of art. Mirabel smiled, softly. “You can do more than just look, you know. Touch me.” She urged, her musical voice taking on a sultry quality.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Mirabel stood there, nude. She was a vision of angelic perfection, literally and figuratively. Her smooth, pale skin was devoid of even the smallest of blemishes, her face was soft and kind, her cheeks bearing a rosy flush, her full lips naturally pink, her features framed by long, wavy golden hair and lit by the golden glow of the halo hovering just inches over her head. Her body was equally divine, an hourglass figure, curves that even the most beautiful of mortal women would envy, but not so exaggerated they looked unnatural. Her breasts were perfect, supple mounds the size of oranges that sat proudly on her chest, riding high without the slightest hint of sag, with the unmistakable shape and softness of natural breasts. Her silhouette tapered in at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, with just the faintest hint of healthy tone beneath it, then flared out into generous, rounded hips that in turn tapered down to shapely thighs, the perfect blend of firm muscle and soft flesh. Between those thighs laid the promised land, her womanhood, a small patch of golden cotton candy fuzz on her pubic bone her only body hair, her outer lips modestly closed, but still flushed rosy-pink, swollen and glistening with desire. Behind her, her glorious wings were half-spread, their neatly-groomed feathers so bright white they almost seemed to glow.
Erik, still on his knees in the seemingly endless field of flowers, could only stare up at her body with blatant awe. She was… divine. That was only word that could possibly describe her. There was a moment of silence as his gaze drank in her beauty, marvelling at every inch of her like he was studying a work of art. Mirabel smiled, softly. “You can do more than just look, you know. Touch me.” She urged, her musical voice taking on a sultry quality.
[Musing] The Pillar of Glory
[pre-story]Another musing! So, odd origin story for this idea. I was having a discussion about what sort of materials a fantasy sex toy would be made of, and then somebody mentioned dragon bone, and then I made a pun, and then I started to really think about it and ideas started forming... So, I have three fantasy sex toy ideas to write about now, and this is the first.
On the actual execution of the idea... I'm not proud of this one, I admit. Mistakes were made. If I hadn't fallen so in love with the idea of starting with the dance, I probably could have started with her being led down into the pyramid and finished this thing in one part. But then I got here, and I'm already behind schedule and adding a sex scene would be another thousand words at least and rewriting it would take even longer... I am definitely going to learn from this in the future, but for now, have part one.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Papan bit her lip nervously as the stood at the foot of the towering staircase leading up to the peak of the tiered pyramid of Xochikama, fingers gripping tight at the edges of the shroud draped over her shoulders, holding it tightly closed. The fabric was itchy on her skin, and she was soaked in sweat, but it was the only thing shielding her body from the gaze of the gathered crowd. Elder Sister Nenetl laid a hand on her shroud-covered shoulder, and she jolted, head whipping around to look. The elder sister smiled, reassuringly. “Remember, you aren’t performing for them. You’re performing for HIM.” She reminded, looking toward the peak of the pyramid.
Papan smiled back, weakly. “Thank you, elder sister…” she replied, then turned her gaze to the chamber at the peak of the pyramid once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I- I’m ready.” She declared.
On the actual execution of the idea... I'm not proud of this one, I admit. Mistakes were made. If I hadn't fallen so in love with the idea of starting with the dance, I probably could have started with her being led down into the pyramid and finished this thing in one part. But then I got here, and I'm already behind schedule and adding a sex scene would be another thousand words at least and rewriting it would take even longer... I am definitely going to learn from this in the future, but for now, have part one.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Papan bit her lip nervously as the stood at the foot of the towering staircase leading up to the peak of the tiered pyramid of Xochikama, fingers gripping tight at the edges of the shroud draped over her shoulders, holding it tightly closed. The fabric was itchy on her skin, and she was soaked in sweat, but it was the only thing shielding her body from the gaze of the gathered crowd. Elder Sister Nenetl laid a hand on her shroud-covered shoulder, and she jolted, head whipping around to look. The elder sister smiled, reassuringly. “Remember, you aren’t performing for them. You’re performing for HIM.” She reminded, looking toward the peak of the pyramid.
Papan smiled back, weakly. “Thank you, elder sister…” she replied, then turned her gaze to the chamber at the peak of the pyramid once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I- I’m ready.” She declared.
[Musing] Onigokko
[pre-story]I almost did it again, that thing where a musing turns into full chapter. This idea's been rattling around in my head for a while, a wild, amazonian woman who turns out to be a tsundere, and an oni seemed like a good choice, to go with the tsundere theme. Also, Onigokko is the japanese word for 'tag', and I like puns. I was kinda expecting this to be something light and cute and kinda funny, but it got a little unexpectedly heavy and emotional toward the end. Probably not enough focus on the sex, honestly... But writing emotional stuff is always kinda exhausting... I was also planning to end it with an epilogue of Hiroshi returning home and telling his parents he's alive, then introducing them to Akane and letting them know they're getting married, but I was already way over my word-goal. Anyways, enough rambling, enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
“Oi! Wimp!” The demon’s booming voice heralded her arrival and stirred Hiroshi from his thoughts. He looked over to the tiger skin hanging in the entrance of the cave just in time to see it thrown aside with a sweep of a bright red arm. “I got dinner!” Akane announced proudly as she stepped inside, thrusting her other arm forward, proudly holding out the corpse of a wild boar, its back legs gripped tightly in her fist, the fresh kill still dripping blood.
Akane was everything one expected in an oni. Almost twice his height, with blood-red skin, a long mane of stark white hair, and short, curved horns jutting from her forehead. Her eyes were bright red, to match her skin, and her broad, beaming grin bared a mouthful of sharp teeth, with extra-long fangs and tusks at the corners. She was barely dressed, a strip of tigerskin tied around her chest to match the loincloth dangling between her thighs. Her body was covered in rugged muscle and dotted with scars, lines of slightly paler red on her otherwise smooth skin. When he’d first arrived, she’d been much worse. She refused to wear a top, she wouldn’t bathe, so she was always covered in dirt, and her hair had been a wild, matted, tangled mess. But over the last months, he’d managed to convince her to wash, to cover herself, and she even let him brush her hair (which was quite a process, especially the first time, as her hair was almost as long as he was tall).
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
“Oi! Wimp!” The demon’s booming voice heralded her arrival and stirred Hiroshi from his thoughts. He looked over to the tiger skin hanging in the entrance of the cave just in time to see it thrown aside with a sweep of a bright red arm. “I got dinner!” Akane announced proudly as she stepped inside, thrusting her other arm forward, proudly holding out the corpse of a wild boar, its back legs gripped tightly in her fist, the fresh kill still dripping blood.
Akane was everything one expected in an oni. Almost twice his height, with blood-red skin, a long mane of stark white hair, and short, curved horns jutting from her forehead. Her eyes were bright red, to match her skin, and her broad, beaming grin bared a mouthful of sharp teeth, with extra-long fangs and tusks at the corners. She was barely dressed, a strip of tigerskin tied around her chest to match the loincloth dangling between her thighs. Her body was covered in rugged muscle and dotted with scars, lines of slightly paler red on her otherwise smooth skin. When he’d first arrived, she’d been much worse. She refused to wear a top, she wouldn’t bathe, so she was always covered in dirt, and her hair had been a wild, matted, tangled mess. But over the last months, he’d managed to convince her to wash, to cover herself, and she even let him brush her hair (which was quite a process, especially the first time, as her hair was almost as long as he was tall).
Friday, September 1, 2017
[Musing] The Tale of Mirabel and Erik the Pure, Part 1
[pre-story] [redacted][/pre-story]
Everything was dark. Then, he heard a voice, soft and feminine. “Erik…” it called, and suddenly, he saw a light, small and far away. “Erik…” The voice called again, it was coming from the light. It sounded… familiar, somehow. Unconsciously, he felt himself drawn toward the light, the voice…
His eyes fluttered open. It was so bright, but somehow, the light didn’t make his eyes ache as it so often did in the mornings. Had the nurse left his light on? But as his vision cleared, he didn’t see the light above his bed. In fact, he didn’t see anything above his bed. The sky was so incredibly blue, dotted with fluffy wisps of cloud, it just seemed to go on forever in all directions. The sun hung high above him, but he didn’t feel the heat of its rays on his skin, and it didn’t hurt to look at it… The air was so clean, cleaner than he’d ever experienced, and it smelled sweet, the fragrant scent of flowers filling his nose with each breath. A gentle breeze caressed him, flowing over his skin from head to toe as he lay there for a moment, it was so nice, so unlike the still, sterile, stale air he was so used to... Wait… Where was his oxygen mask?! His hand shot up to his face, moving with a swift responsiveness he hadn’t had in years, and touched his face, groping for the stiff plastic that wasn’t there. His skin… It felt so smooth on his fingertips. His eyes widened as he caught sight of his hand, it wasn’t the bony claw, twisted by arthritis and marked with liver spots, that he was used to, no, it was… young. What...
Everything was dark. Then, he heard a voice, soft and feminine. “Erik…” it called, and suddenly, he saw a light, small and far away. “Erik…” The voice called again, it was coming from the light. It sounded… familiar, somehow. Unconsciously, he felt himself drawn toward the light, the voice…
His eyes fluttered open. It was so bright, but somehow, the light didn’t make his eyes ache as it so often did in the mornings. Had the nurse left his light on? But as his vision cleared, he didn’t see the light above his bed. In fact, he didn’t see anything above his bed. The sky was so incredibly blue, dotted with fluffy wisps of cloud, it just seemed to go on forever in all directions. The sun hung high above him, but he didn’t feel the heat of its rays on his skin, and it didn’t hurt to look at it… The air was so clean, cleaner than he’d ever experienced, and it smelled sweet, the fragrant scent of flowers filling his nose with each breath. A gentle breeze caressed him, flowing over his skin from head to toe as he lay there for a moment, it was so nice, so unlike the still, sterile, stale air he was so used to... Wait… Where was his oxygen mask?! His hand shot up to his face, moving with a swift responsiveness he hadn’t had in years, and touched his face, groping for the stiff plastic that wasn’t there. His skin… It felt so smooth on his fingertips. His eyes widened as he caught sight of his hand, it wasn’t the bony claw, twisted by arthritis and marked with liver spots, that he was used to, no, it was… young. What...
[Musing] Lien's Adventures Part 3: Curious
[pre-story] [redacted][/pre-story]
Lien's Adventures Part 3: Curious
“Welcome to Mesa Medicinals! What do you need?” The tauren woman greeted from her seat on the blanket near the back of the shop, her voice cheerful, but with a slight drawl to her words. The shop was small, really just a tent with some blankets laid out on top of the grass, a half-dozen or so shelves placed around the periphery, stocked with baskets of dried herbs and bottles of colorful liquids. She was flanked by shelves full of empty bottles and baskets of herbs, a mortar and pestle on one side, and a low table on the other, covered in beakers and bottles connected by crazy, twisted tubing; everything she needed, all within arm’s reach.
The woman in the middle of the blanket sat cross-legged, a long, faintly-smoking pipe delicately nestled between two fingers. She had warm, evenly-toned honey-brown fur, and had a mane to match, her hair tied into two thick braids that hung down in front of her shoulders, the tails dangling just above her chest. An impressive chest, to be certain, even in her relatively modest robes, it was easy to see the woman’s udders were enormous, easily the size of a human’s head. Between the loose robes and the sitting position, the rest of her figure was hidden from view, but nothing could truly hide such a spectacular chest from the world. She smiled softly at the new customer, a placid, almost sleepy smile, the corners of her hazel eyes crinkling slightly, showing her age. She wasn’t old, by any stretch, but she certainly gave off an impression of maturity.
[Musing] Lien's Adventures Part 2: Hungry
[pre-story] [redacted][/pre-story]
Lien's Adventures Part 2: Hungry
“Well, well, well, what do we ‘ave ‘ere?” Rolf grinned, wolfishly, as he stepped out from the treeline at the edge of the slowly-flowing river. The looming worgen’s silver fur looked shaggy and unkempt, matching the ragged trousers he wore and the jagged parallel scars that ran across his wolfish snout. His golden eyes were fixed on the water’s edge, where a lone pandaren woman lounged, half-submerged in the nude, her full, pale-furred breasts floating slightly, their dark nipples standing hard from the river’s chill. He’d only been planning to rob whatever poor sap he found, but the sight of her body was already inspiring a very different sort of plan.
The pandaren woman opened her eyes, slowly twisted around to look at the source of the voice, then smiled, a placid, relaxed smirk, her eyes half-lidded. “It seems I’ve been spotted. Who might you be, stranger?”
Rolf had seen a lot of reactions to getting jumped. Some folks panicked, some folks froze, some folks got mad… But he’d never seen ‘em smirk before. This was… new. Vaguely unsettling. But he couldn’t let it shake him. “Name’s Rolf, lady. You mighta’ ‘eard of me. Wanted posters call me ‘Rolf the Ruthless’. Wanted for robbery, assault… and murder. And you best cooperate if ya don’t want to find out first-hand how ruthless I can get.” He half-growled, flexing his claws illustratively in front of him. Truth was, the ‘murder’ charge was fake, probably just some feral that got mistaken for him, but it helped his reputation, and anyways he couldn’t exactly go marching into the guard station to get it corrected.
Lien's Adventures Part 2: Hungry
“Well, well, well, what do we ‘ave ‘ere?” Rolf grinned, wolfishly, as he stepped out from the treeline at the edge of the slowly-flowing river. The looming worgen’s silver fur looked shaggy and unkempt, matching the ragged trousers he wore and the jagged parallel scars that ran across his wolfish snout. His golden eyes were fixed on the water’s edge, where a lone pandaren woman lounged, half-submerged in the nude, her full, pale-furred breasts floating slightly, their dark nipples standing hard from the river’s chill. He’d only been planning to rob whatever poor sap he found, but the sight of her body was already inspiring a very different sort of plan.
The pandaren woman opened her eyes, slowly twisted around to look at the source of the voice, then smiled, a placid, relaxed smirk, her eyes half-lidded. “It seems I’ve been spotted. Who might you be, stranger?”
Rolf had seen a lot of reactions to getting jumped. Some folks panicked, some folks froze, some folks got mad… But he’d never seen ‘em smirk before. This was… new. Vaguely unsettling. But he couldn’t let it shake him. “Name’s Rolf, lady. You mighta’ ‘eard of me. Wanted posters call me ‘Rolf the Ruthless’. Wanted for robbery, assault… and murder. And you best cooperate if ya don’t want to find out first-hand how ruthless I can get.” He half-growled, flexing his claws illustratively in front of him. Truth was, the ‘murder’ charge was fake, probably just some feral that got mistaken for him, but it helped his reputation, and anyways he couldn’t exactly go marching into the guard station to get it corrected.
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.
Friday, June 30, 2017
[Musing] Daddy's Gift
[pre-story]Almost a full year since the first part came out, the story suddenly continues for Father's Day! [redacted][/pre-story]
Cynthia bit her lip, her heart thudding in her chest as Daddy lined his big fat black cock up with her tight little teenage pussy, Mommy’s fingers spreading her ebony lips to reveal the glistening pink within. “Happy Father’s day, sweetie” Mommy purred, and then Daddy thrust his hips forward, and Cynthia moaned aloud.
Cynthia bit her lip, her heart thudding in her chest as Daddy lined his big fat black cock up with her tight little teenage pussy, Mommy’s fingers spreading her ebony lips to reveal the glistening pink within. “Happy Father’s day, sweetie” Mommy purred, and then Daddy thrust his hips forward, and Cynthia moaned aloud.
[Musing] Lien's Adventures, Part 1
[pre-story]The first in a possibly continuing series of patron-requested musings featuring a cuddly pandaren lady. [redacted][/pre-story]
Part 1: Tense
“You look tense.” A soft voice commented.
Gorus Boarslayer blinked, momentarily confused, and looked up from his mug of ale, his heavy green brow furrowed slightly as he turned toward the source of the voice. Two seats down the bar, there sat a pandaren woman, leaning an elbow on the bar, her cheek resting on her fist. She looked out of place in the dim, smoky bar, quite unlike The Wyvern’s Tail’s usual clientele, a parade of grim-faced orcs and trolls that somberly drank away their sorrows. For one thing, there was her dress, a slinky thing, bright red silk embroidered with gold, the shimmering material hugging her ample curves, with slits on both sides that ran all the way up to her hips. She was curvy in the extreme, with thick thighs, wide hips, a slight taper to her waist, and enormous, full breasts, almost as big as her head. She was covered head to toe in soft fuzz, alternating patches of white and black, most notably black patches around her eyes that stretched down onto her cheeks in two long streaks. Her hair was long, except for her straight-trimmed bangs, the rest tied back into a long, thick braid that ran down to the small of the back, and it was mostly black but for a stripe of bright green that ran from her bangs all the way down her braid. She smiled as his eyes met hers, a sparkle of playful intent glinting in her deep green eyes.
“My name is Lien Lightpaw. Perhaps I can help you relax a little?” She purred, leaning a little closer. Gorus swallowed. Was this really happening?
Part 1: Tense
“You look tense.” A soft voice commented.
Gorus Boarslayer blinked, momentarily confused, and looked up from his mug of ale, his heavy green brow furrowed slightly as he turned toward the source of the voice. Two seats down the bar, there sat a pandaren woman, leaning an elbow on the bar, her cheek resting on her fist. She looked out of place in the dim, smoky bar, quite unlike The Wyvern’s Tail’s usual clientele, a parade of grim-faced orcs and trolls that somberly drank away their sorrows. For one thing, there was her dress, a slinky thing, bright red silk embroidered with gold, the shimmering material hugging her ample curves, with slits on both sides that ran all the way up to her hips. She was curvy in the extreme, with thick thighs, wide hips, a slight taper to her waist, and enormous, full breasts, almost as big as her head. She was covered head to toe in soft fuzz, alternating patches of white and black, most notably black patches around her eyes that stretched down onto her cheeks in two long streaks. Her hair was long, except for her straight-trimmed bangs, the rest tied back into a long, thick braid that ran down to the small of the back, and it was mostly black but for a stripe of bright green that ran from her bangs all the way down her braid. She smiled as his eyes met hers, a sparkle of playful intent glinting in her deep green eyes.
“My name is Lien Lightpaw. Perhaps I can help you relax a little?” She purred, leaning a little closer. Gorus swallowed. Was this really happening?
[Musing] Dairy Tour
[pre-story]The first of a new batch of monthly patron-suggested musings! [redacted][/pre-story]
“Right this way, my dear.” Ms. Brown called, a warm, knowing smile on her full, soft lips as she pulled open a door and gestured through.
Becky swallowed, adjusting her thick glasses and biting her lip, slightly intimidated. She was short and mousey, with short, messy, dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a figure that hadn’t quite ‘blossomed’, and after graduating, she’d just about given up hope it would. Ms. Brown, by contrast, was everything she wasn’t. The mature woman was tall, graceful and glamorous, with long auburn hair pulled up into a bun, she moved with confidence to spare. And why shouldn’t she be confident? With that supermodel face and pornstar body… No, porn stars would have looked positively scrawny compared to her. Her breasts were MASSIVE, each easily the size of her head, her business suit presenting what seemed like a mile of cleavage. And her hips! Her pinstripe skirt strained to contain the bounty of her broad hips. Becky considered herself pretty straight, but walking behind Ms. Brown, she could hardly take her eyes off the mature beauty’s swaying, jiggling backside.
“Right this way, my dear.” Ms. Brown called, a warm, knowing smile on her full, soft lips as she pulled open a door and gestured through.
Becky swallowed, adjusting her thick glasses and biting her lip, slightly intimidated. She was short and mousey, with short, messy, dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a figure that hadn’t quite ‘blossomed’, and after graduating, she’d just about given up hope it would. Ms. Brown, by contrast, was everything she wasn’t. The mature woman was tall, graceful and glamorous, with long auburn hair pulled up into a bun, she moved with confidence to spare. And why shouldn’t she be confident? With that supermodel face and pornstar body… No, porn stars would have looked positively scrawny compared to her. Her breasts were MASSIVE, each easily the size of her head, her business suit presenting what seemed like a mile of cleavage. And her hips! Her pinstripe skirt strained to contain the bounty of her broad hips. Becky considered herself pretty straight, but walking behind Ms. Brown, she could hardly take her eyes off the mature beauty’s swaying, jiggling backside.
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Musing: Wild Nights
[pre-story]I had a fit of inspiration, and this just kinda happened. [redacted] Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
My husband is a kind, sweet, and gentle man. When we first started dating, my mother was worried about what would happen if he got violent. After all, I’m a ‘delicate little lotus flower’, a tiny, slender Japanese girl barely five foot and almost a hundred pounds, and he’s a 6’3” of blond German muscle, a full hundred pounds heavier. But I knew from the moment we met I didn’t have to worry. He was soft-spoken, emotional, and almost painfully shy, a giant teddy bear of a man. He was aven afraid of my family’s lapdog when he came to visit. I had to be the one to ask him out, to ask him to marry me, and I still have to make the first move when it comes to sex. Not that the sex is bad, mind you, John is big where it counts, too, and he practically worships me in bed. He’s passionate, attentive, and eager to please. Sometime he’ll just spend hours making me cum over and over with his fingers and tongue… But while I am absolutely not complaining about that part, I have to admit, the one thing that bothers me is that he’s so damn precious with me. He touches me like he’s afraid I’ll break, and he feels super-guilty the moment he does something even remotely approaching ‘rough‘.
My husband is a kind, sweet, and gentle man. When we first started dating, my mother was worried about what would happen if he got violent. After all, I’m a ‘delicate little lotus flower’, a tiny, slender Japanese girl barely five foot and almost a hundred pounds, and he’s a 6’3” of blond German muscle, a full hundred pounds heavier. But I knew from the moment we met I didn’t have to worry. He was soft-spoken, emotional, and almost painfully shy, a giant teddy bear of a man. He was aven afraid of my family’s lapdog when he came to visit. I had to be the one to ask him out, to ask him to marry me, and I still have to make the first move when it comes to sex. Not that the sex is bad, mind you, John is big where it counts, too, and he practically worships me in bed. He’s passionate, attentive, and eager to please. Sometime he’ll just spend hours making me cum over and over with his fingers and tongue… But while I am absolutely not complaining about that part, I have to admit, the one thing that bothers me is that he’s so damn precious with me. He touches me like he’s afraid I’ll break, and he feels super-guilty the moment he does something even remotely approaching ‘rough‘.
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.
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Musing: Emerald Trade (Part 1)
[pre-story]A patreon musing! So, I love goblins-as-shortstacks, and then I saw some art of a muscled goblin babe, and I thought, huh, that's cool, hey, maybe hobgoblins are, like, regular goblins, just with a genetic trait that makes them super-buff? And then I wanted to write a sexy goblin shortstack and a muscled goblin amazon and then here we are. I was expecting this to get straight to the sex, but as seems to happen so often with me, I got too deep into the setup and it's over before I know it. So, actual sex will have to wait for the next installment. I also got to include a reference to Ba'Ahram in there, so that was fun. Enjoy!
Side note: If a short and busty babe is called a shortstack, is a short and muscular babe called a shortslab? Is that a thing? Can it be?[pre-story]
Andor let out a quiet groan, his head throbbing painfully.
“Look, he’s waking up!” an unfamiliar, feminine voice called out.
Slowly, Andor’s eyelids opened, only to squint blearily against the light filtering through the canopy above. He was on his back on the forest floor, but he didn’t remember lying down…He tried to shift and push himself up, only to feel something rough biting into his wrists and his head give another painful throb. “Wha-?” He mumbled, confused, struggling to get his bearings. He’d been out hunting. He’d bagged a couple rabbits, but nothing really impressive. He’d been heading home, and then… blackness.
“Don’t bother struggling. You’re not gonna slip the knots.” Came a second voice, deeper than the first, but still clearly feminine.
Blinking away the bleariness, Andor forced his eyes open, catching sight of the scene before him. The sky beyond the leaves and branches above was just turning orange with the first hints of sunset. A small campfire crackled merrily just a few paces away, the rabbits he’d caught already skinned, cleaned, and roasting on sticks over the open flames. “Hey, those are-” He began to object, when he finally took note of the two figures staring down at him and fell silent.
Side note: If a short and busty babe is called a shortstack, is a short and muscular babe called a shortslab? Is that a thing? Can it be?[pre-story]
Andor let out a quiet groan, his head throbbing painfully.
“Look, he’s waking up!” an unfamiliar, feminine voice called out.
Slowly, Andor’s eyelids opened, only to squint blearily against the light filtering through the canopy above. He was on his back on the forest floor, but he didn’t remember lying down…He tried to shift and push himself up, only to feel something rough biting into his wrists and his head give another painful throb. “Wha-?” He mumbled, confused, struggling to get his bearings. He’d been out hunting. He’d bagged a couple rabbits, but nothing really impressive. He’d been heading home, and then… blackness.
“Don’t bother struggling. You’re not gonna slip the knots.” Came a second voice, deeper than the first, but still clearly feminine.
Blinking away the bleariness, Andor forced his eyes open, catching sight of the scene before him. The sky beyond the leaves and branches above was just turning orange with the first hints of sunset. A small campfire crackled merrily just a few paces away, the rabbits he’d caught already skinned, cleaned, and roasting on sticks over the open flames. “Hey, those are-” He began to object, when he finally took note of the two figures staring down at him and fell silent.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Musing: Dibella's Blessing
[pre-story]Hey there, squish here, finally continuing the story of the futa dragonborn! [redacted] Anyways, enjoy! There's plenty more story to come![/pre-story]
Dibella's Blessing
The three priestesses shared a glance as they held their robes closed for a moment, each one bearing a very different expression. The small breton, Senna, as the dragonborn would later learn, wore an eager, mischievous grin on her almost childlike face, the glint of lust in her eyes seeming ill-fitting. The wide-hipped redguard, Anwen, had a smoldering, sultry look in her eyes, and a playful smirk on her full lips. The tall, busty nord, Orla, was chewing her lip hesitantly, but her eyes kept flicking over to the dragonborn’s magnificent body, lingering on that superior shaft. Hamal cleared her throat, the high priestess catching the attention of all three for a moment and giving them a reassuring nod. As one, three robes parted and fell, pooling around the priestesses’ ankles, revealing their naked bodies to the dragonborn.
Dibella's Blessing
The three priestesses shared a glance as they held their robes closed for a moment, each one bearing a very different expression. The small breton, Senna, as the dragonborn would later learn, wore an eager, mischievous grin on her almost childlike face, the glint of lust in her eyes seeming ill-fitting. The wide-hipped redguard, Anwen, had a smoldering, sultry look in her eyes, and a playful smirk on her full lips. The tall, busty nord, Orla, was chewing her lip hesitantly, but her eyes kept flicking over to the dragonborn’s magnificent body, lingering on that superior shaft. Hamal cleared her throat, the high priestess catching the attention of all three for a moment and giving them a reassuring nod. As one, three robes parted and fell, pooling around the priestesses’ ankles, revealing their naked bodies to the dragonborn.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Musing: Love Bug P. 1
[pre-story]So, I've been mulling over this idea for a long time. I wasn't sure if I should actually write it, because I'm not sure how sexy it'd be in the end, but I ran a twitter poll and the results convinced me to go for it. The idea is interesting to me, even if it's not super hot. It's a romance set in the universe of the game FTL: Faster Than Light, one of my recent gaming obsessions, and it features a very alien sort of alien as the love interest. It was supposed to just be some very short snippets setting up a larger relationship but I just wrote and wrote and now I'm like 4k words deep and nobody's even naked yet. I decided I had to cut it off here for the month, even though I haven't gotten to the action yet, because it's probably only about half-done at this point, if that, and I don't think I should keep my current commission waiting for however long it would take me to actually finish it.[/pre-story]
Love Bug: Part 1
“K’tikikaak.”
The captain paused, looking up from his datapad to take in the figure standing before him. The insectoid creature had a long abdomen with folded wing-cases on its back, held parallel to the deck on four spindly legs covered in jagged serrations. It had a thorax, held upright, that almost looked like a slender humanoid torso. It had two arms, long, folding limbs, ending in serrated, scythe-like blades, each almost half a meter long, flanked by spindly ‘fingers’ that invariably reminded him of spider legs. It had a head that was entirely alien, a wide, flat, triangular thing, with glittering multifaceted eyes set into the sides and chittering mandibles at the front, perched on a skinny stick of a neck. All told, the creature was perhaps a half-meter taller than him, but it compact form likely only outweighed him by a few kilos. The whole creature was covered in segmented carapace, a bright, vibrant red color, banded with tiger stripes of a darker shade.
Love Bug: Part 1
“K’tikikaak.”
The captain paused, looking up from his datapad to take in the figure standing before him. The insectoid creature had a long abdomen with folded wing-cases on its back, held parallel to the deck on four spindly legs covered in jagged serrations. It had a thorax, held upright, that almost looked like a slender humanoid torso. It had two arms, long, folding limbs, ending in serrated, scythe-like blades, each almost half a meter long, flanked by spindly ‘fingers’ that invariably reminded him of spider legs. It had a head that was entirely alien, a wide, flat, triangular thing, with glittering multifaceted eyes set into the sides and chittering mandibles at the front, perched on a skinny stick of a neck. All told, the creature was perhaps a half-meter taller than him, but it compact form likely only outweighed him by a few kilos. The whole creature was covered in segmented carapace, a bright, vibrant red color, banded with tiger stripes of a darker shade.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Musing: Tracer's Halloween Party
[pre-story]It's another overwatch-themed patreon musing! This one's for Halloween, and features Symmetra's Vampire skin and Tracer's Punk skin. It's way longer than it's supposed to be, but I think it's definitely worth it. I just kept having more stuff I wanted to include... I didn't have enough room for it all, so I might come back and add a second part later on. Tried some new stuff in this one, toys, hypnotism... is time-play a thing? I think it worked out pretty well. Originally I was just gonna have it be straight-up hypno-dom, but I decided to add in a little bit of hesitance on Sym's part/willingness on Tracer's, because I love me some sappy emotional crap. Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
“Heya, Symm!” Lena called from across the room, stretching up on one toe to wave over the crowd, her bright, cheery expression at odds with her black leather jacket, skull-goggles, and rebellious, pink dyed hair. Her chest-piece glowed, and her form flickered and disappeared, the spunky girl reappearing across the room, directly in front of her friend, a trail of blue weaving through the crowd behind her. “I’m glad you made it! I wasn’t sure you were gonna show, you know, ‘cause you don’t like parties much and all that, but you’re here!” She babbled, excitedly, spreading her arms wide and leaning in for a hug, only to abruptly stop, teetering on tiptoe a moment from hugging, remembering how Symmetra didn’t really like to be touched without warning.
Symmetra’s pale grey lips curled into a soft smile. “Hello, Lena.” She replied, cool and calm and collected, a stark contrast to Lena’s bubbly, overflowing energy. She leaned into the hug, giving the british girl a soft squeeze which she eagerly returned, before straightening up again, breaking the hug after only a moment. “I simply couldn’t miss one of your famous Halloween parties.” She replied.
Tracer grinned, stepping back to let her eyes roam up and down Symmetra’s body. Her costume looked much like her usual outfit, with a few key differences. For one, her usually-soft-brown skin had turned a pale grey from head to toe, and her usual blue and white outfit was black and red instead, her thigh-high stockings decorated with angular bats. Her eyes had changed, too, from rich brown to deep crimson. Her body was lovely as always, a modest, but proud chest, slender waist, round hips, and long, shapely legs. But there was something else, too, something subtle about the way she stood, the way she moved, a different sort of confidence, something almost...sultry.
“Heya, Symm!” Lena called from across the room, stretching up on one toe to wave over the crowd, her bright, cheery expression at odds with her black leather jacket, skull-goggles, and rebellious, pink dyed hair. Her chest-piece glowed, and her form flickered and disappeared, the spunky girl reappearing across the room, directly in front of her friend, a trail of blue weaving through the crowd behind her. “I’m glad you made it! I wasn’t sure you were gonna show, you know, ‘cause you don’t like parties much and all that, but you’re here!” She babbled, excitedly, spreading her arms wide and leaning in for a hug, only to abruptly stop, teetering on tiptoe a moment from hugging, remembering how Symmetra didn’t really like to be touched without warning.
Symmetra’s pale grey lips curled into a soft smile. “Hello, Lena.” She replied, cool and calm and collected, a stark contrast to Lena’s bubbly, overflowing energy. She leaned into the hug, giving the british girl a soft squeeze which she eagerly returned, before straightening up again, breaking the hug after only a moment. “I simply couldn’t miss one of your famous Halloween parties.” She replied.
Tracer grinned, stepping back to let her eyes roam up and down Symmetra’s body. Her costume looked much like her usual outfit, with a few key differences. For one, her usually-soft-brown skin had turned a pale grey from head to toe, and her usual blue and white outfit was black and red instead, her thigh-high stockings decorated with angular bats. Her eyes had changed, too, from rich brown to deep crimson. Her body was lovely as always, a modest, but proud chest, slender waist, round hips, and long, shapely legs. But there was something else, too, something subtle about the way she stood, the way she moved, a different sort of confidence, something almost...sultry.
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
Musing: Like Rabbits (p.1)
[pre-story] [redacted][/pre-story]
Part 1
“Fuck… Stairs…” Adam gasped for breath as he hauled himself up yet another tall stone step, the thin mountain air hardly helping.
“I’m not… gonna let… some stupid stairs…keep me from… the greatest… archaeological find… since the rosetta stone!” Eva insisted, gritting her teeth and redoubling her efforts, pulling ahead of Adam as the pair ascended the seemingly endless stairs of the massive tiered pyramid.
Adam groaned in complaint as he hastened to match his wife’s pace. Eva was always like that, energetic, restless, always moving, never settling… It had taken him three globe-trotting expeditions to convince her that he wasn’t going to slow her down if they got married. But that’s part of what he loved about her. She was driven, passionate, always hungry for the next achievement, always pushing herself, and him, to do more. Sure, it would be nice to settle down and start a family, but he knew she couldn’t be happy stuck in one place.
Part 1
“Fuck… Stairs…” Adam gasped for breath as he hauled himself up yet another tall stone step, the thin mountain air hardly helping.
“I’m not… gonna let… some stupid stairs…keep me from… the greatest… archaeological find… since the rosetta stone!” Eva insisted, gritting her teeth and redoubling her efforts, pulling ahead of Adam as the pair ascended the seemingly endless stairs of the massive tiered pyramid.
Adam groaned in complaint as he hastened to match his wife’s pace. Eva was always like that, energetic, restless, always moving, never settling… It had taken him three globe-trotting expeditions to convince her that he wasn’t going to slow her down if they got married. But that’s part of what he loved about her. She was driven, passionate, always hungry for the next achievement, always pushing herself, and him, to do more. Sure, it would be nice to settle down and start a family, but he knew she couldn’t be happy stuck in one place.
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.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Musing: Overcome
[Pre-story]Musing #2 for July! Continuing from Overwhelmed, this one features those lovely ladies Mei and Zarya finally getting hot and heavy, but also a little bit intimate. The story's turning out longer than I thought it would, but that's not unusual. You can definitely expect to see some more of this as the months go on. [redacted] Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
Chapter 2: Overcome
Mei raised a fist, hesitated, swallowed, and finally brought it forward, knocking sharply on the stately wooden door of the room. The silence was deafening as she stood in the empty hallway, fidgeting nervously with the fluffy terrycloth belt that held her robe closed, toes wiggling in her hotel flip-flops. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe Zarya was just joking. Or worse, she was playing some kind of cruel trick, luring her out here so everyone would laugh at her… No, no, she was just being crazy now, there was no mistaking what that kiss had meant. Still, she felt so… exposed. The hotel robe only went down to mid-thigh, and it wasn’t quite big enough to completely hide her cleavage. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Mei looked up. “I-” She managed to squeak, only for the words to die on her lips as she processed what she was seeing.
Chapter 2: Overcome
Mei raised a fist, hesitated, swallowed, and finally brought it forward, knocking sharply on the stately wooden door of the room. The silence was deafening as she stood in the empty hallway, fidgeting nervously with the fluffy terrycloth belt that held her robe closed, toes wiggling in her hotel flip-flops. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe Zarya was just joking. Or worse, she was playing some kind of cruel trick, luring her out here so everyone would laugh at her… No, no, she was just being crazy now, there was no mistaking what that kiss had meant. Still, she felt so… exposed. The hotel robe only went down to mid-thigh, and it wasn’t quite big enough to completely hide her cleavage. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Mei looked up. “I-” She managed to squeak, only for the words to die on her lips as she processed what she was seeing.
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