Womb of the New World
Chapter 7
My whole body is on fire. Inside of me, hot liquid spurts for what feels like a river’s worth, Yoevin’s first organ butting against my insides as though it will erupt from my throat. His second holds deep, and both twitch and shudder, jerking slowly and wetly within me as they unload their liquid.
He moves and I groan, opening my eyes to watch him shudder and pump slowly into me, his top sex coated in his own semen. He fixes his eyes to his cock, pulling it out slowly, slowly, then thrusting in again, and moans, lips parted and fangs glinting in the dim light. The thrusting uncorks and recorks my sex, so that wet, sloppy sounds emerge, and I feel the semen, too much of it to stay inside me, dripping back out and down my sex, to the pallet.
Without thinking, I reach down, catching some of the liquid, and watch his eyes follow my fingers as I coat my right nipple with the thick cream.
“Yesss,” he breathes, and I shudder as he thrusts, thickly and deeply, again. My fingers rub the cream into my aureola, and he bends forward, slides his tongue out, and sucks it from me, slow and firmly, as I squirm and laugh.
He releases my breast, and holds still, sexes still hooked into my flesh.
“Ticklish?” A soft question, and I regard him, wondering why I am here and what I have done. I blink, and give him a sad smile. There is no undoing what we have done. What prices I have yet to pay will show themselves soon enough.
In that moment of regret, another thread of pleasure shudders from the tip of his cock into me and I we both gasp, holding our breaths as it vibrates through him, down his shaft, and into me. I breathe carefully around it, my body so tired with pleasure that I approach the wave of sensitivity warily, and let it pass slowly, until I nod, sagging, against his arm resting beside me on the pallet.
He pulls out then, with a gratuitous squishing plop that makes my sensitive holes trigger in longing and pleasure, and puts his hands on my thighs.
“I know you are tired, but the night is young yet.” His voice is low and brooks no argument. Surprised, I stare up at him, but I can tell that he is not about to let me run or pretend this has not happened. Despite my body being riddled with sore muscles and strained ligaments, I feel my nipples harden again, and my sex, although drying, seems plump again and ready to produce more fluid in response to his.
“Can’t we … clean ourselves?” I ask, sitting up to face him, drawing my legs beneath me.
He answers with a tight smile, and a short shake of his head.
“The less time wasted on niceties, the more chance to fill you. And the sight of you dripping with my cream will only make us both climax that much harder.”
I stare at him, amazed at the foulness of the image he’s just shared with me, and at the knowledge that my sex has just pursed and unpursed itself at the sound of his voice saying such a thing. Like thirsty lips, teased with drink.
Some things still need cleaning. I turn aside, find her small bucket of drinking water, and wash my lower sex clean.
Then, I take her limbs gently and resolutely, and place on her on her hands and knees. In her exhaustion, she slumps forward, resting her face against the pallet with her ass in the air and her knees parted. I stand behind her, staring at the apex of moist, dark red pussy flesh, and the flushed, wet ring of her anus, gaping slightly at being so thoroughly used. I bend and slide my tongue down, into the tiny slanted hole of her sex, working my tongue down into the tunnel so that she squirms and heaves, collapsing her thighs so that she is flat against the pallet with her knees to either side of her breasts.
“Yoevin, Yoevin,” she breathes, and I writhe my tongue within her, squirreling it through her until she tightens and then gives a raspy, hoarse cry of surrender. Her sex splashes a small amount of water from its tunnel, and I collect it quickly, lapping up and down, to coat the tender inside part of her buttock cheeks.
“Oh, oh yes,” she murmurs, and now that I have all the lubrication I need, I slip my tongue up and circle its forked tip around and around her asshole, cupping her rounded, thick hips with my hands and squeezing. Imogenne yelps, and I circle more and more quickly, then work my tongue hard into the tip of her anus.
This makes her thrash her face against the pallet and I firmly and resolutely push my soaked tongue into her ass, until it slides into the dark, hot tunnel. I don’t go far, just an inch or two, knowing neither she nor I are fully prepared for this.
But she tastes good, sweet, salty, and as I work her, I reach down and put my palm against her sex, rubbing until its coated, and she squirms her spread fruit against my skin, bouncing slightly to start a rhythm. I remove my hand and continue to twist and unfurl my tongue there at her anus, and wrap my hand around my lower sex, coating its hand’s length with her juices. My eyes roll up into my head at the pleasure, even more intense than my larger sex, because the same number of nerve endings are in a smaller package, and these, for some reason, have always been far more sensitive to touch.
I release her rear end, lean over her, and plunge my lower organ in, gripping my upper sex, still damp, with my hand, and masturbating as I work the smaller head in.
“Mmmm, yes, squeeze me,” I breathe as I feel her muscles working, working, and she moans, pushing back and out so that she can begin to pump down onto my flesh. In my hand, I watch the black flesh of my upper cock gleam against my own fingers, the sight of her rear end riding down and up, working the hungry mouth of her sex over mine, and moaning, I fall forward, crush my sex against her tight young skin, gleaming with her pussy juices and sweat, and rut with her.
She bucks beneath me, her cunt sucking, spitting, sucking spitting, and my hands find her breasts, claws grazing, even scraping her sweet skin.
“Helut, Yoevin, find me, put that thing inside me and make it go all the way,” she commands, and I close my eyes and concentrate, so many holes and valleys, tunnels and undulating globes filling my mind, my hands, sluicing against my cocks.
The pleasure is overwhelming, but in it is the reminder to find, to conquer, to fill her to the brim, and my lower sex presses hard and high up into her, knocking against her forward wall, making her moan and shake.
“Yes, yes,” she urges, and I lean back, the better to ram her, and fix the thrusting path of my upper sex with my thumbs crooked over it and over the part of her ass cheeks. Eyes slitted, I stare at her hair flying and bouncing, her hips working, her head thrown back and her mouth gasping and babbling.
The tightness begins, and it’s enough to make my sex lengthen, reaching higher, as she squeezes hard on it. It lengthens, lengthens, and her pleasure peaks and she screams and bounces into a hard frenzy upon me, and the intensity of it all grows, makes my sex longer, longer, the mouths so close – and there, I pound high, release my upper sex, grip her haunches, and yank her back, back, back, and she shoves, back, back back.
“It’s coming, it’s coming,” she wails, and her thrusts speed up and water begins spurting from her inner walls. My lower sex, coated, lengthens again and then finds home, the million mouths inside of her as she screams, wriggling down hard against me as I thrust brutally up, thoughtless to any pain I might cause as I try, with all my might, to slam myself into her very center.
The mouths suck, suck, her inner walls so tight and wet, and it finally comes, the end of her, a tight hot, wet space in which it takes only a few sharp thrusts before my sex becomes so hyper-sensitive it explodes.
I rear up, roaring, taking her bodily by the sides, lifting her up off the pallet, and ram her back and down upon me, her limbs flailing but her sex always, always, hungry and working down upon mine. Fluid wrings out of me, hard and thick, and I feel it overwhelm the small pocket inside of her where the head of my cock nudges, the fluid flowing back down along her tunnel and around my shaft.
“Ungh,” she swallows loudly, gasping and shaking as I slowly pull back an inch, and then thrust slowly forward again, still holding her up off the pallet. She hangs like a sex android from my distant memories, a hole for me to fill and use, yet around it she is alive and sentient, full of meaning and purpose, and my cock inside her feels like the most necessary and correct thing in the world.
“Put it in my ass,” she whispers, and I slow in my thrusting, breathing hard.
“What?”
“Put the little one in my ass, now,” she says again, lifting her damp red-brown tresses away from the side of her face, to show me her eyes, glowing with an utter abandonment to our sexual excess.
I slowly lower her back to the pallet, pull out of her, and stare down at my engorged sex. Within her, it’s normal five or six inches has turned into a length of about seven or eight inches, and the veins rise hard against the smoothness of my skin. The tip is an angry, wild red, the hole at its end wide and open, dilated to at least a centimeter, or more. It’s as if it were as overhwhelmed as I and Imogenne are, eager to spill its seed, eager to burrow its way into her. It is something I have never seen before.
“It’s sensitive,” I say, touching it and flinching slightly as it twitches, a spittle of cream spurting again from the tip at the sensation, and I gingerly guide it to her behind. She squats with her rear facing me, rubbing her fingers in her sex and spreading herself wide. I slip a finger into her, pull out the water, and rub it into her anus, ignoring my penis because I know so much rubbing right now may be too much.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” comes her breath, and I fix my stance, lean over her, and press the sensitive tip of my lower cock into her welcoming tunnel.
“Oh God,” she whimpers, and I groan, shuddering as my oversensitive nerve endings feel every undulation and ripple of her anal tract, the dampness from my licking and her liquids coating the length. I begin to thrust, slowly, and shudder each time, eyes fixed to her ass bucking back slowly, rising and falling, in the same rhythm.
“Tight, Bokin, so tight,” I grunt, listening to her own grunts in response, using them as fuel to bring me closer to the violent end.
“Yes, yes,” she urges, and I rut her, pumping, breathing hard as I quickly come near the peak, gripping her hips as she pushes back, her fingers flickering into and out of her sex, the wet sounds driving me on toward pleasure.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” gasps Imogenne, and I feel her clench up around me as her fingers sink into herself deep from below, my balls slapping wet and thick against her fingers. The clenching is the final straw and pleasure comes again, more intense and painful, so that I shove in and hold still, semen erupting in a smaller amount this time, closing my eyes against the radiating squeezes from her anus, rhythmically clamping down tight and then releasing.
Panting down against her, I open my eyes as she turns her face to mine. I lean forward, to bring my face closer.
“I am yours,” says Imogenne, my human captive, her hair wild and tawny, her eyes wide and intense, blazing with emotions she may never share with me aloud.
I do not answer, but instead slip my tongue against her lips, watching her eyes close. In that moment, I realize I am as much hers as she is mine, and I lower my lashes, kissing her for all that I am worth.