[pre-story]So, I decided to break the main part of the chapter up into two parts, because holy fuck this is getting to be massive. If you add up all parts I've written so far, it's about 18k words, and I'm still only like half-done with the last part. I feel a lot less guilty about posting this part than I did about the first one, because this one is definitely sexy. I can't say exactly when the last part will come out, my productivity has been just all over the place lately, but I'll be working hard to get it finished (also, got me some new pills that should help), and I'm really, really hoping I can get it done in time to post it this month.
[redacted][/pre-story]
Unlikely Adversaries, Part 2 [Preview]
Rhuno gripped the metal spike in one calloused, three-fingered hand, raised it high, then swung with all his strength, bringing it sweeping down into a brutal horizontal stab, driving it deep into the tough material and giving it a sharp twist at the end. Then he let go, leaving the spike planted there, and stepped back, watching with baited breath. Finally, a trickle of amber liquid began to pour forth, and Rhuno laughed, his voice a booming rumble like distant thunder across the plains. Glitz and Ginny both wore expressions of surprise, Ginny’s mixed with glee and Glitz’ with dismay. The tauren wore a broad, triumphant grin as he stepped forward again, reaching out, one hand turning off the spigot he’d just driven in as the other grabbed the first pitcher of pale ale from the freshly-tapped keg.
Ginny stepped forward too, marvelling at the barrel, one small hand coming up to touch the rough oak surface. “Looks like you lost, Glitz!”
Glitz' expression turned to one of amused, begrudging acceptance as she reached into her pocket, but Rhuno simply grinned. “I warned you, I used to do it all the time! Made a lot of gold off new crusaders with that trick. Not a lot to do in northrend except fight and drink.” He added, leaning against a wall as he raised the pitcher to his lips and took a swig.
When Rhuno lowered the pitcher again, the foam clung to his upper lip in a pale moustache. Glitz giggled a bit as she fished out a coin and flipped it haphazardly in Rhuno’s general direction. The shining disk arced gracefully through the air, only to land with an undignified splash in his pitcher of ale. There was a half a moment of silence, then all three cracked up, giggling and laughing as the golden disk sank through the amber liquid to settle at the bottom.
Ginny shook her head as the giggle-fit wore off. “Ohh, wow… I think finding that funny means I’m officially drunk.”
Glitz giggled again, shaking her head. “How can somebody with ‘Gin’ in their name be such a lightweight?”
“Hey!” Ginny objected as she poured herself another gnome-sized glass of ale. “First…” She began, gesturing at the two now-empty kegs that had preceded this one. “...That’s a lot of alcohol! And second, Ginnfizzle is a perfectly normal name that has nothing to do with alcohol! My mom was named Ginnfizzle!” She explained, then paused, looking thoughtful, before muttering “...Though, grandpa did own a bar, and she was working there when dad met her...”
Glitz giggled uncontrollably at that revelation, tipping backward until she fell off her stool, hitting the floor with a dull thump, still laughing. “A bar wench! YOU’RE a bar wench’s daughter? Fuck, the apple must’ve rolled a LONG way from the tree!”
“Mom was NOT a bar-wench!” Ginny pouted, then paused, the full comment percolating through the haze of alcohol. “...Hey, wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Glitz wiped at the corners of her eyes as she pushed herself up off the floor. “Ginny. Honey.” She began. “You know yer shit with machines and wires an’ crap, sure… but you are SO stiff and awkward.” She explained.
“I’m not stiff!” Ginny objected, planting her hands on her hips as she scowled at Glitz, looking inescapably like a child mid-tantrum.
Glitz shook her head as she sat up fully. “Yer stiff as a board right now! You talk stiff, you walk stiff, you act stiff! You’d be a terrible bar wench!” Glitz replied. “Wenches gotta be relaxed, they gotta be flexible, an’ graceful, an’ sexy! Like dancers, but they gotta talk to people too.” She explained, sagely, giving her arms an illustrative wiggle.
“I am NOT stiff!” Ginny reiterated, scowling a little harder. “Look!” She exclaimed, lifting her mostly-full glass to her lips and chugging its contents, before slamming the empty vessel down on the table.
[/Preview]
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
By The Horns: Ch. 5, P. 1
[pre-story] Hey there, Squish here, with something a little... unusual. Chapter 5, all together, is about 12k words long at the moment, and will probably be closer to 15k by the time I’m finished. Considering the length, and how long it’s taking, I thought it might be best to break it up a little. This seemed like the cleanest break, but it doesn’t actually have any sex in it, so I debated about it for a long while, until the calendar kinda forced my hand. If you’re just in it for the smut, you could probably skip this part without too much trouble. Still, it’s got a cool fight scene and sets up the initial relationship between the girls and their relationship to Rhuno. I’m still not sure if I’m gonna split the main portion of the story or not, so you might get one big or two smallish parts after this, but I can assure you, whatever comes next, there will be plenty of sex in it. If you wanna see the full story as soon as it's done, remember to check out my patreon![/pre-story]
Unlikely Adversaries, Part 1
“BITCH!”
“WHORE!”
The sounds of shrill, angry shouts echoing from the laboratory were nothing new, and the people of Gadgetzan were content to ignore them as they went about their business beneath the burning desert sun. The ensuing crash of breaking glass, and the dull boom that that followed, were new, but not not so new as to warrant more than a curious glance from passerbys. But when Glitz came flying out of the building, thrown with enough force to break one of the hinges on the double doors as she passed through them, hitting the cracked, baking earth and sliding a couple feet, well, that was certainly new enough to draw some stares.
Unlikely Adversaries, Part 1
“BITCH!”
“WHORE!”
The sounds of shrill, angry shouts echoing from the laboratory were nothing new, and the people of Gadgetzan were content to ignore them as they went about their business beneath the burning desert sun. The ensuing crash of breaking glass, and the dull boom that that followed, were new, but not not so new as to warrant more than a curious glance from passerbys. But when Glitz came flying out of the building, thrown with enough force to break one of the hinges on the double doors as she passed through them, hitting the cracked, baking earth and sliding a couple feet, well, that was certainly new enough to draw some stares.
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.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Daddy's Home: New Life [April Fools]
[pre-story] Surprise! You've asked, you've begged, you've demanded more, and I shall deliver! I feel like I've really developed as a writers since I started Daddy's home, and I'm exited to bring the series back and put all my new skills to use! Anyways, I hope you enjoy![/pre-story]
Daddy's Home: New Life
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rich asked, looking around at all the equipment intruding on his bedroom. Microphones, lights with those reflective umbrella things on them, three big, fancy cameras at all different angles… This stuff wasn’t cheap, even just renting it.
“Of course, Daddy!” Sam replied with a grin as she darted around the room checking equipment and making last-minute adjustments, his beautiful, dark-haired daughter dressed in her skimpiest, sexiest gothic lingerie. Black-and-purple striped thigh-high stockings clung to her shapely legs, fastened to a lacy black garter belt with straps tight enough to dig into the pale globes of her spectacular ass. Those twin moons were split by the barely-there string of a black, semi-sheer lace thong, the straps of which rode high on her generous hips. Her hips tapered to a slender waist, the barest hint of tone visible on her flat stomach, a gleaming purple gemstone dangling from her bellybutton ring. Her top was somewhere between a bra and a corset, little more than a wide belt of tightly-laced material around her ribcage with a set of shaped, triangular cups that could barely contain a pair of breasts that were each practically as big as his head, the pale, creamy flesh bulging out around them, jiggling with every tiny movement, the cups barely hiding her suckable nipples from view. Around her neck she wore a choker, a band of elastic black lace with a silver heart-shaped charm seated directly on her throat. She went heavier with the makeup than usual, her lips painted with her favorite glossy black lipstick, her eyes outlined with thick black eyeliner, artfully contoured into wings, then layered over with dusky purple eyeshadow. Her long, black, silky hair was done up into twintails, a departure from her usual style, but one she said would work better for the cameras.
Daddy's Home: New Life
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rich asked, looking around at all the equipment intruding on his bedroom. Microphones, lights with those reflective umbrella things on them, three big, fancy cameras at all different angles… This stuff wasn’t cheap, even just renting it.
“Of course, Daddy!” Sam replied with a grin as she darted around the room checking equipment and making last-minute adjustments, his beautiful, dark-haired daughter dressed in her skimpiest, sexiest gothic lingerie. Black-and-purple striped thigh-high stockings clung to her shapely legs, fastened to a lacy black garter belt with straps tight enough to dig into the pale globes of her spectacular ass. Those twin moons were split by the barely-there string of a black, semi-sheer lace thong, the straps of which rode high on her generous hips. Her hips tapered to a slender waist, the barest hint of tone visible on her flat stomach, a gleaming purple gemstone dangling from her bellybutton ring. Her top was somewhere between a bra and a corset, little more than a wide belt of tightly-laced material around her ribcage with a set of shaped, triangular cups that could barely contain a pair of breasts that were each practically as big as his head, the pale, creamy flesh bulging out around them, jiggling with every tiny movement, the cups barely hiding her suckable nipples from view. Around her neck she wore a choker, a band of elastic black lace with a silver heart-shaped charm seated directly on her throat. She went heavier with the makeup than usual, her lips painted with her favorite glossy black lipstick, her eyes outlined with thick black eyeliner, artfully contoured into wings, then layered over with dusky purple eyeshadow. Her long, black, silky hair was done up into twintails, a departure from her usual style, but one she said would work better for the cameras.
Friday, March 24, 2017
By The Horns Ch. 5, P. 1 [Preview]
[pre-story] Hey there, Squish here, with something a little... unusual. Chapter 5, all together, is about 12k words long at the moment, and will probably be closer to 15k by the time I’m finished. Considering the length, and how long it’s taking, I thought it might be best to break it up a little. This seemed like the cleanest break, but it doesn’t actually have any sex in it, so I debated about it for a long while, until the calendar kinda forced my hand. If you’re just in it for the smut, you could probably skip this part without too much trouble. Still, it’s got a cool fight scene and sets up the initial relationship between the girls and their relationship to Rhuno. I’m still not sure if I’m gonna split the main portion of the story or not, so you might get one big or two smallish parts after this, but I can assure you, whatever comes next, there will be plenty of sex in it.
[redacted][/pre-story]
Unlikely Adversaries, Part 1
“BITCH!”
“WHORE!”
The sounds of shrill, angry shouts echoing from the laboratory were nothing new, and the people of Gadgetzan were content to ignore them as they went about their business beneath the burning desert sun. The ensuing crash of breaking glass, and the dull boom that that followed, were new, but not not so new as to warrant more than a curious glance from passerbys. But when Glitz came flying out of the building, thrown with enough force to break one of the hinges on the double doors as she passed through them, hitting the cracked, baking earth and sliding a couple feet, well, that was certainly new enough to draw some stares.
[redacted][/pre-story]
Unlikely Adversaries, Part 1
“BITCH!”
“WHORE!”
The sounds of shrill, angry shouts echoing from the laboratory were nothing new, and the people of Gadgetzan were content to ignore them as they went about their business beneath the burning desert sun. The ensuing crash of breaking glass, and the dull boom that that followed, were new, but not not so new as to warrant more than a curious glance from passerbys. But when Glitz came flying out of the building, thrown with enough force to break one of the hinges on the double doors as she passed through them, hitting the cracked, baking earth and sliding a couple feet, well, that was certainly new enough to draw some stares.
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.
Happy Birthday Ch. 3
[pre-story]It. Is. Done! This one nearly killed me. I bit off WAY more than I could chew, as usual, and between writer's block and getting sick, it just... it took forever. I ended up breaking the scenes we had planned for this one into two distinct chapters. Ultimately, it's probably better for it, and the decision let me avoid both stressing myself into an early grave and keeping you all waiting another month.
Anyways, enjoy! If you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Christina’s Turn
John barely had time to yank up his dress shirt and cinch his belt tight, pinning his monstrous, throbbing member against his rugged abs, the flared crown pulsing just short of reaching his powerful pecs, then yank his shirt down again, just in time to conceal the fearsome weapon as he was half-pushed-half-dragged through the ballroom doors and into the parking lot. The night air was cool and quiet, and the ballroom was far enough away from the street to avoid wandering eyes, but still, adding another charge of indecent exposure to his record would rather effectively spoil the celebration. The ABCs whined impatiently, two tugging at his arms while the third pushed him forward from behind, the identical, incorrigible redheaded triplets eager to start a night with their favorite cousin. He probably could have planted his feet, stopped himself, and taken the time to properly conceal his monolithic cock, but three sets of big, round, emerald-green puppy-dog eyes and big, round, freckle-dusted basketball-sized tits, half-bursting out of tight, backless emerald gowns, were very persuasive. Together, the triplets guided their studly cousin across the parking lot, toward a big green SUV sitting on the asphalt.
John heard the hurried clacking of heels on pavement behind him and twisted in the triplets’ grip, catching sight of Aunt Christina rushing to catch up. The mature, copper-haired beauty was elegant as always, somehow managing to make her rushed pace look smooth and graceful, purposeful and controlled as a queen striding through her court. That is, if you ignored the way her titanic tits shook and wobbled with each stride, her diamond-hard nipples threatening to come bouncing out of her emerald dress with every step. And the way her thighs and fingers glistened, slick with her own womanly nectar. And the way her knees trembled just the tiniest bit as nearly a half-gallon of her nephew’s thick, creamy cum sloshed in her belly.
Anyways, enjoy! If you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Christina’s Turn
John barely had time to yank up his dress shirt and cinch his belt tight, pinning his monstrous, throbbing member against his rugged abs, the flared crown pulsing just short of reaching his powerful pecs, then yank his shirt down again, just in time to conceal the fearsome weapon as he was half-pushed-half-dragged through the ballroom doors and into the parking lot. The night air was cool and quiet, and the ballroom was far enough away from the street to avoid wandering eyes, but still, adding another charge of indecent exposure to his record would rather effectively spoil the celebration. The ABCs whined impatiently, two tugging at his arms while the third pushed him forward from behind, the identical, incorrigible redheaded triplets eager to start a night with their favorite cousin. He probably could have planted his feet, stopped himself, and taken the time to properly conceal his monolithic cock, but three sets of big, round, emerald-green puppy-dog eyes and big, round, freckle-dusted basketball-sized tits, half-bursting out of tight, backless emerald gowns, were very persuasive. Together, the triplets guided their studly cousin across the parking lot, toward a big green SUV sitting on the asphalt.
John heard the hurried clacking of heels on pavement behind him and twisted in the triplets’ grip, catching sight of Aunt Christina rushing to catch up. The mature, copper-haired beauty was elegant as always, somehow managing to make her rushed pace look smooth and graceful, purposeful and controlled as a queen striding through her court. That is, if you ignored the way her titanic tits shook and wobbled with each stride, her diamond-hard nipples threatening to come bouncing out of her emerald dress with every step. And the way her thighs and fingers glistened, slick with her own womanly nectar. And the way her knees trembled just the tiniest bit as nearly a half-gallon of her nephew’s thick, creamy cum sloshed in her belly.
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