|
Lactogenesis XXIV: The Halloween Party part 3 (mmf
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
LACTOGENESIS XXIV: THE HALLOWEEN PARTY, PART THREE
Christine gave herself over to the situation. She smiled and scooted
her chair back away from the table. She slid down into it, spreading her
legs slightly. With the tip of her index finger, she began to draw light
circles around each of her nipples. The circles widened until they
circumnavigated each breast. She then opened her hands, pressing inward
on her bosom and stroking downward toward the nipples. Over a dozen thin
streams of milk erupted forth as a result, spraying across the width of
the table. The men at the table groaned lustily in response; the women
squealed in delight. She tugged her nipples into inch-long erections,
each tug producing a fresh deluge of milk. As she milked herself, Chris
pivoted in her chair so as to make sure each and every person was hit by
the blasts. To her mild surprise, not one tried to escape getting wet.
On the contrary, they jostled each other for position, *trying* to catch
the streams on their bodies. They turned to each other, licking droplets
off each others' faces and smacking their lips.
"Sixty seconds. Time's up," she heard someone say, but the voice
seemed distant, strangely muted by the roar of the blood in her ears.
There was a collective moan of disappointment. "Like hell," she
responded, and a ragged cheer went up. Chris stood up, walked to the
nearest man, and guided his head to her still-flowing breast. With no
prompting, he began to suckle her deeply. The stimulation completed
Chris's transformation into an unthinking, purely sensual being. With a
growl that rumbled deep in her chest, she took the man's shoulders and
took him to the floor. His costume, that of a Roman gladiator, had an
easily removed codpiece which Chris tossed to one side to reveal a long,
thin cock already sporting a bright green condom. These people had come
prepared. Chris was running on pure instinct, adrenalin, and oxytocin
now. She pulled her bikini bottom to one side and unceremoniously
engulfed the man's erection with her soaking wet pussy. She began to ride
him, spurred on by the encouragements of the crowd around her, her head
tossed back, her eyes closed, her nipples still dripping milk onto the
man's chest, her voice grunting like a gorilla in heat.
She felt a pair of hands grab her head and guide it to a second,
thicker cock, which protruded from a Starfleet uniform belonging to a man
who looked very much like "Star Trek"'s Commander Data. Without a thought
she took it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head and
plunging it deep into her throat. She felt soft lips (female?) encircle
each breast, sucking furiously, trying in vain to drain her dry. She
stroked the backs of the women suckling her as they struggled to doff
their costumes (the cat and her companion, a mouse) without breaking
contact. Her hands, however, were soon taken away and placed on two more
stiff pricks protruding from the pants of an "alien" (who had glued a
second, almost identically sized plastic prick above his own) and a man in
a Hannibal Lecter mask. Chris awkwardly began jacking them off, trying to
stay in rhythm with the "gladiator"'s cock buried in her pussy. Six
people were making love to her simultaneously, and still she wanted more.
She could feel the best orgasm of her life building, but it seemed
distant, unwilling to burst forth under anything but the most intense
stimulation.
She had her answer seconds later, as she felt a blunt, wet, throbbing
object probing her anus. She had never been penetrated anally before, but
that realization never reached her conscious mind. Upon that first touch,
she leaned forward, thrusting her ass outward, relaxing her sphincter for
the coming onslaught. The man who entered her, "Napoleon", felt huge. He
had slathered a condom with K-Y jelly, but his first stroke still elicited
a yelp of pain from Chris. He began to pull out, but Chris shouted "No!"
She relaxed a little more, feeling both cocks sliding in and out of her,
rubbing each other through the thin barrier separating rectum and vagina.
She began rolling her hips up and back so that one penis was on a
downstroke while the other was on an upstroke. The cat and mouse began to
nibble at her nipples, tugging at them with their teeth. The cocks in her
hands grew harder; the one in her mouth began pulsing with the
inevitability of ejaculation.
The men began coming. Hundreds of millions of spermatozoa ran down
Chris's arms as she finished jacking off "Hannibal" and the "alien".
Chris let go of "Data"'s cock just as it erupted, blasting a thick stream
of cum across her cheek to drip from one ear. The gladiator and
"Napoleon" followed only seconds later. Their penises seemed to swell
inside her just before exploding. She could feel the intensity of their
spurts even through the condoms they wore, and that was enough to bring
her distant orgasm raging to the forefront. She burst forth, spraying
cunt juice and milk everywhere as she gasped for air. The women suckling
her fell back, overcome by the sheer volume of fluid Chris was putting
forth. The gladiator's costume was ruined, soaked completely through.
Red dye mixed with Chris's juices and smeared the poor man's legs.
The intensity of Chris's orgasm drained every ounce of strength she
had. She collapsed forward, only semi-conscious. She felt several strong
hands guiding her to the floor, others stroking her hot skin tenderly.
She opened her eyes to see seven faces, five male, two female, smiling
down at her. They all looked up in response to applause that suddenly had
begun from the door.
Chris turned her head to see Jeremy and Sherri standing in the
doorway, applauding the show they'd just witnessed. Jeremy's erection was
finally gone. His limp dick was devoid of the body paint, and it shone
wetly. Sherri's costume was mostly gone; she wore only black panties and
the headdress portion. Her huge breasts, a different color from the rest
of her skin and looking very weird without the rest of the costume,
jiggled as she applauded; the nipples had drops of milk on them. It was
obvious what they had just been doing.
Jeremy made a quick gesture with his head, and without a word "Data",
"Napoleon", "Hannibal", the alien, the gladiator, the cat, and the mouse
left the room. Sherri quickly crossed to Chris's prone, semen-covered,
sweaty, white-streaked form, helped her shakingly to her feet, and
embraced her.
"School's out, hon. My little girl's all grown up now," Sherri said
into Chris's neck. There was pride in her voice. Chris, for her part,
was only slowly beginning to get her senses back. The enormity of what
had just transpired was beginning to dawn on her. She had transcended yet
another level of sexual awareness. She tuned in on her ravished body; she
felt her pulse in her cunt and ass, the cramping of the muscles in her
fingers, the teeth marks in her nipples, the taste of cum on her tongue,
the fatigue in her legs, the trickle of fluids down her skin. They were
delicious feelings, the feelings of complete release, of the complete
giving over of oneself to pleasure. She liked it. She would have it
again. Maybe even still tonight. She looked up at her host, tossed the
fake hair out of her eyes (how *had* that wig stayed on?), and extended
her hand to him. The look on Jeremy's face was a mixture of adoration and
blind lust as he led both women out of the room and down the hallway, in
the direction of the waterproofed bedroom, leaving badly stained carpeting
behind. His satyr's cock was beginning to stir again.
<<to be continued>>
|
|
