Friday, July 3, 2015

Weekend Wake-up Call – Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9





 I quickly brought my attention back to Bane. He looked at me with all the heat a woman can ask from a man. I spread my legs in invitation, wanting to feel that very large, very thick cock inside. He growled to see me so exposed, and the light dusting of black and gray fur on the skin his leather vest exposed was suddenly longer and coarser. Oh my.

He put two fingers inside me and drew them out slowly. He held them up in the air to show everyone the wetness. Growls and grunts greeted the sight. Then he looked at me with those golden animal eyes, and I squirmed with need. 

“Please,” I whimpered. 

To my relieved delight, Bane grabbed hold of my thighs, lifting me into position. He slid in nice and smooth. That width was a little more than Fizz was used to handling, given how it ached to take him in. Maybe she wouldn’t have liked it, but it’s the kind of uncomfortable fullness I enjoy. 

Oh, did I ever enjoy it.

He sheathed himself in our shared body, bumping hard against the cervix. Cascades of brilliant, sparkly sensation washed over me, making me groan throatily with pleasure. I grabbed the sides of the table and hung on as Bane drove against me with a steady rhythm.

I don’t know what was more exciting; being taken by a muscled beast-man who was packing a lot more than a pea-shooter, or having all those people watch his flesh work in and out of mine. The combined thrills took me on an express ride right up to the edge of climax. In no time I was crying out, my knuckles white as I held on for dear life.

Bane was getting furrier by the second. His muzzle extended, becoming more wolf-like as he rode me. Bestiality has never been on my radar as sexually enticing. I prayed he’d hit climax before doggy-style became more than a position.

He was getting close to judge by the quickening pace of his hips pounding against mine. I closed my eyes to shut out all but the sensation of his flesh thudding into me, stroking with luscious pressure against the ever-eager cluster of nerves inside my sheath. The tireless friction was lighting an inferno, and I was closing in on complete conflagration. A pre-climax convulsion tightened everything below my waist. I wailed.

The wail became a shriek as the real thing hit, pulverizing me from the inside. The spasm that seized me bowed my back so that only my buttocks and head touched the table. It held me in its jaws like a dog with a rag doll. I was helpless in its ruthless grip.

The wonderfully brutal pressure eased to be replaced by dozens of smaller paroxysms that had me tossing my head from side to side in agonized delight. It was the kind of orgasm you wish would never end. I could have rode that thing for eternity.


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