Grave Babies

Olivia heard the moans then, and forced her blue eyes open. The woman lay on top of Noah, her hips swivelling back and forth as she pressed down on his waiting blue-tinged cock. Staked out beside was a limp Jack. She would have thought him dead if it wasn't for Jack's massive woody. Or could you die and still have a woody when rigor mortis set in?

At Olivia's choked cry, bluebell's head swung round, pinning Olivia with her dark eyes. The naked woman rose off of Noah, and strode toward Olivia where she stood bound to the tree. The woman didn't seem to care that her naked breasts with their dark nipples bounced and swayed as she moved, or the glistening hairs covering her mound were on display between the muscular thighs. Bluebell stood a hand span from Olivia, her Amazonian height towering over Olivia's five foot three.

Bluebell reached out and fingered Olivia's blonde hair. Bluebell muttered, and it sounded like Spanish. Olivia couldn't understand a word of it. Out of nowhere, one of the pale blue warriors appeared, his silver dagger, not so fake close up, in his fist.

Olivia screamed as it rose, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt a tugging, sawing sensation. Her screaming stopped. He sliced at her shoulder-length hair, his knife close to her scalp. His fist held big chunks, like ribbons. A tear rolled down her cheek. He stilled, staring down at her. Then he returned his attention, shoring her of her hair. Her gaze dropped, and she watched through blurry eyes as his twin tucked her hair it into a leather pouch with a draw string.

When he was finished, he slipped the sharp knife behind his back. Bluebell caught her chin, lifting it. Olivia glared at her. There was no need to take her hair. Stealing her boyfriend was enough. This was just plain mean. All Bluebell needed was a bottle of bleach to turn her skanky hair blonde. Instead she turned Olivia into a Britney Spears wannabe.

"Bitch!"

They ignored her. Or didn't understand her. Or both. They were muttering between the three of them, Bluebell getting progressively louder. The dagger warrior was motioning toward Olivia. Bluebell said something sharp, then abruptly turned away. His twin followed.

Heady incense wafted over her, and Olivia shuddered, eyes closing, her breasts straining against her top. Her breath caught when she felt firm hands settle on her hips, before sliding up beneath her top. She sucked in her belly in shock. He wouldn't...

Hands cupped her breasts beneath the material, gently massaging them. She turned her face away, her wrists tugging desperately at the leather binding them.

Thumbs rubbed back and forth across her tight nipples. It was like electricity zapping her right on her pleasure nub. She gasped.

When his hands left her breasts, her lashes parted a fraction. Hope welled in her. Then his hand reached behind him and pulled out the dagger.

Olivia pressed her face into her upraised arm. She jerked when a finger pushed at the crotch of her hotpants, and she squeezed her thighs shut, one in front of the other. And squealed when he twirled her around and around, the bindings twisting and tightening. She was forced to stand on tippytoe unless she wanted her stretched arms to take her full weight.

He caught her knee, lifting it over a pale blue muscled arm, and she danced on the spot, trying to keep her balance. Pain shot through her arms, a teasing reminder.

She would have kicked out of at him, but he lifted his dagger. Her eyes widened as it got progressively closer to the apex of her thighs. Olivia forgot to breathe. But something, some devil, made her watch.

It was obvious what he intended. Neither Jack, Noah or Olivia were going to leave tonight without being taken by these painted strangers having a lark at their expense. Olivia silently apologised to Jack and Noah for her unkind thoughts earlier. Although it was their damn fault she was tied up and about to have stranger look at her booty. And probably do a lot more than look.

A finger hooked through the brief crotch of her snug hot pants, then the dagger followed. The sharp edge sliced easily through the gold snakeskin-like material. Olivia felt faint. And took in much needed breaths.

He knelt down before her, lifting her knee over his shoulder and making her hot pants ride up. She didn't like the thought of him staring at her gold curls springing through the criss-crosses of her pink fishnets like tufts of fluff, but she wasn't going to argue with a blue man carrying a dagger.

Over his blue-black hair she saw Bluebell riding Noah, her hips grinding down on his. She saw Noah's head was arched back, his chest and arms straining, his hips pistoning up into Bluebell's eager heat. Jack was struggling beside him, jerking at the stakes. The twin moved up, standing over him, holding the spear at his throat. It had the effect of settling Jack down.

Olivia bit her lip as a hand cupped her mound. Then the heel of his hand rubbed against her, making her hips wiggle. She was wet and achy, and his touch was only making things worse. Just get it over with, she wanted to scream.

She didn't know if she was anxious or happy he listened to her silent demand when his knife sliced through a pink cord at a very delicate place. Then he used his fingers to slowly make the hole wider. Once or twice he pulled on her curls, making her wince.

His head ducked forward, and then he was licking at her, his tongue travelling the pink valley and delving in her moist folds. A jerky cry escaped her at the indescribable sensations of his tongue playing with her fun parts. Her ex-boyfriend had never gone down on her. Now she knew what it was like. Heaven. When warrrior guy sucked on her nub, she thought she'd died. It was only in a matter of moments before Olivia came with a gasping cry, unable to hold out against the stranger.

When she felt the press of something cold against her heated flesh, Olivia was not overly concerned as she struggled to calm down. Her eyes widened when without warning it pressed against her, pushing up inside her snug channel. Her clamouring pussy clutched at the long, unyielding coldness in shock. She gazed down at the warrior, his hand wrapped around the base of the handle of his long sheathed sword, no longer strapped to his waist, and feeding the handle up into her tight pussy through the hole in her fishnets.

Olivia arched on the strange feel of it inside her. Inch by inch it pushed into her, until finally his hand butted against her. The metal quickly warmed to her flesh, leaving behind an overwhelming fullness. Standing on tip-toe, one leg over his shoulder, gave her little room to manoeuvre. She waited helplessly, her wide eyes meeting inky blue or black ones.

Slowly he began to ease it out of her. It dragged on her tender flesh, sending flurries of ecstasy rippling through her flesh. She instinctively squeezed about it. Then he thrust it deep, letting her know he was in control, and she moaned. If this is what it was like to have a dildos her girlfriends giggled about after a couple of drinks, Olivia now knew what it was she had been missing out on.

Her warrior steadily pumped away at her, making her twitch and writhe on the inflexible steel until she wouldn't have cared if her mother, Sunday school teacher or the local news crew stumbled across them. Olivia wanted to come. She was whimpering and moaning with each thrust.

Then could have cried when he pulled the steely lengthy from her. He shoved the sword in the soft ground, sheath and all, and rose.

She dangled before him, dancing on her tip-toes, as he reached beneath the leather at his hips. When he pulled it out, if it wasn't so big, she would have laughed at the sight of his blue shaft rearing up towards her. But it was big. It was as thick as her wrist, and incredibly long. Now she realised the sword hilt was just warm-up. This was the real thing.

There was a guttural cry, and the warrior turned sharply from Olivia. Bluebell was keening as she rose off of Noah, and Olivia knew something was wrong. Both warriors moved swiftly toward Bluebell. With an intense urgency, they carried her over to lay on a soft patch of grass near the oversized lycees.

Olivia struggled with her bindings, and twisted around and round until the tightness loosened. Her shoulders slumped slightly in relief.

Bluebell was crying out, her body arching as the warriors held her down with her legs wide apart. That's what you got for stealing boyfriends and cutting off hair, Olivia thought bitchily. Olivia could have barfed when she realised she had the money shot. Then her blue eyes widened in horror as Bluebell's pussy lips bulged around an opaque ball-like sack. It slithered free, landing with a soft plop in blue goo on to the ground. Bluebell's belly rippled, as more and more slipped from her arching body. Olivia's insides squeezed in sympathy. But it didn't stop her from heaving at the grotesque sight. She fought and won, swallowing back burning bile.

Finally Bluebell lay still, and Olivia found peace from her heaving stomach. She didn't know what kind of sick experiments Bluebell and her gang were trying to make Bluebell push sacks out of a place where no sacks had the right to be, but they so weren't trying it on Olivia.

Olivia was furiously tugging on the leather bindings, uncaring of her skin being rubbed raw. It didn't matter that orgasms were few and far between with her ex. She didn't plan to hang around.

She moaned when she saw Warrior Guy come back across the clearing toward her. Bluebell lay quietly watching as Twin rested her head in his lap, his blue fingers massaging her scalp.

Olivia tugged and yanked at the leather. Warrior Guy towered over her, blocking her sight of the others. He splayed one hand on her chest, pinning her to the tree behind her. His other hand gripped her bodice, and pulled.

Olivia's mouth fell open as her small breasts sprung free with their tight pink crowns. His blue hand squeezed a mound, looking so strange against her pale skin. He caught her nipple between his fingers, pinching her. Then his hand moved down, touching her, caressing her. It slid around behind her, then down over her bottom. His fingers slid up underneath her torn hotpants, his hand splaying over her bottom.

Olivia had quietened as he explored her. She prayed he only wanted to fuck her and not play scientist with her. He grunted, pulling at her fishnets. Then he let go of her chest, and both hands reached beneath her hotpants to find the hipster waist of her fishnets. His fingers curled around the elastic band and pulled down. He pushed them down to her knees, then they slithered the rest of the way to her ankles.

The incense reached her, and her fear ebbed as desire stabbed at her belly. It irritated Olivia that she didn't know where it was coming from, but it was the least of her worries just then.

Warrior Guy pulled something from the leather wrapping his hips. It was like a skirt with dozens of pouches and pockets. On most others, it would have looked girlish. On him and his twin, it was far from.

When she saw the glimmer of a tiny bottle with a silver cap, she began to tremble. "Please, just fuck me, don't do any of that weird shit. Please, none of that."

With one hand, he somehow released his skirt, and it fell to the ground. Olivia swallowed at the impressive sight, albeit all blue and hairless. She had never seen someone wax there and she eyed him curiously.

He simply watched her, the way her breasts rose and fell between her torn blue top, the gold hotpants resting loosely on her hips, her thighs gleaming white in the moonlight. He tipped the bottle into the palm of one hand, and she saw it was some kind of oil.

He tossed the bottle away on to the grass then rubbed his hands over his shaft. Her eyes widened. Was it some kind of lube, and not some sack making juice? Please, please be just lube.

Then his hands were grabbing her bottom, lifting her higher against the tree. Her legs wrapped about his waist. Perhaps if she made it good, he would think twice about doing that sick stuff with her?

His hips pressed against hers as his mouth nuzzled and licked her underarm. Ewww. Still, she rubbed herself against his hardness that was like a hot brand where it pushed against her belly.

She saw over his shoulder she had a watching audience: Bluebell, Twin, Jack and Noah. Damn. Haven't they got better things to do? She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to block them out. Only it seemed to bring what Warrior Guy was doing to her into sharper focus. He was biting at her breasts, not chomps, but nips that stung slightly, then tingled. All the while she was rubbing her slippery flesh over him, and it was fraying her control.

When his hand reached between their bodies, she breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. He shifted against her, then she felt the blunt head of him probing at her weeping gate. When he pushed against her, she had no where to go, her bottom pressed up tight against the tree. He looped his arms beneath her knees and drew them impossibly wide. Then he was surging into her yielding pussy.

"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped as he went deeper with tiny thrusts, touching places she didn't think had been touched before. When he bumped against her cervix it was slightly painful. She new some girls liked the feeling, but Olivia wasn't too sure.

When she finally relaxed against him, he began to move inside her. At first it was small glides. Yet even that seemed to make her feel as though he was dragging her insides with him each time he eased back, and she clutched at him all the more.

Her fingers wrapped around the leather twine, using it as leverage to push down on him. He got the message. He drove into her with long, forceful thrusts that made her squirm and writhe on him. Her ex had never made her feel like this. She wanted to swallow Warrior Guy whole. She wanted to squeeze him until he popped. It was like every thrust generated a shower of electrical sparks on her throbbing nub.

Her audience was forgotten as she took each demanding thrust with feverish anticipation. Her shimmering hips and heels beating at his bottom urged him on.

He grunted and muttered against her neck as he wedged his thickness into her slippery tightness. She didn't know or care what he was saying. She knew what he meant.

"That's it, fuck me."

She was so close. Her body strained against his. She was so much smaller than him, but she eagerly took him in, her body welcoming his. Each tinge of pain as he bumped deep melded with the pleasure, until she couldn't distinguish between either.

She cried out as she came, rippling around him as his cock pummelled her. She whimpered as he jerked inside of her, hot, pulsing seed spilling inside of her. On and on he bucked, rubbing against her sensitive walls until it was almost unbearable. Still he worked inside of her, and she felt it overflowing her channel. What the hell? Olivia always made her ex wear a condom, but even when she gave him a blowjob, she was sure there wasn't this much. Maybe everyone was different? She had read of women squirting.

A groan escaped her as his thumb stirred her blonde curls. Then he was gently massaging her button as he glided in her, so much more easily now with all their mingled juices. It was then she realised he hadn't softened. He was still hard as rock inside of her. She struggled against him, trying to tell him it was too much. But her body jumped in response, seemingly eager for more.

She was gasping with each determined surge, her head thrown back as he sucked and lavished her pink buds with his rough tongue. This time when she came, she gave a gasping squeal, her body shuddering. Soon he followed her, pouring into her. It was almost like a hose. It jetted against her cervix as her tight walled shivered ecstatically about him.

He leaned back, and they both watched as he eased out of her tender pussy. Her blue eyes widened at the sight of so much pearly liquid that she could have sworn was blue in the moonlight. Then he was easing her unsteady legs back onto the ground. He looked around, the without hesitation tugged on her blue top. It gave with little resistance against his strength. He used it to wipe his shaft, then he wiped her inner thighs and mound. The cloth was soaked by the time he finished.

Shivers were still racing down her spine in the aftermath of coming. She didn't care that he flooded her. Just so long as he didn't plan on doing an weird science stuff on her. Olivia was on the pill, but she was going to get one of the emergency morning after pills just to be certain.

He loosened the ties about her wrist, and hope flared through her. But he only lengthened the tie enough that she could sit on her bare butt on the ground. Her hot pants were little better than a skirt.

He moved away from her, and she watched his rippling back covered in swirling tattoos that stopped at his buttocks in the weak moonlight. She gazed up, and the clouds had thinned. Still, the moon was halfway past the zenith. It was possibly 3 or 4am. Would they let them go soon?

Olivia realised she must have fallen asleep when someone was shaking her awake. "Olivia?"

She forced her eyes to open. Jack was crouched before her, his face frowning with concern. His zipper was halfway up his chest. It was snagged and crooked. Bluebell must have broken it in her enthusiasm.

She realised it was light. Very early morning, she guessed. Jack was working on her restraints, and she grimaced in agony when her arms fell to her lap and the blood came surging back into them. He rubbed and massaged her arms until the pain stopped. She only caught him looking at her naked breasts a time or two.

She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. "Are you ok to walk?"

She nodded, and stretched her sore back and rubbed her behind. There was nothing for her sore pussy. Jack coughed, and she remembered she was almost naked. "Sorry." She held one arm over her breasts while the other tugged down on the slightly flapping crotch of her hotpants. But that only made the back rise up. Stupid pants.

She glanced around the clearing, looking very normal and innocent in the fresh morning sunlight. There was little evidence of last night's nocturnal activities. No lycees on steroids, weird musky smells or swords. Only stakes and leather ties.

"Where's Noah?"

"He's gone to get the car. He figured you want a bit of privacy."

She didn't say anything. What could she say?

"This wasn't what I had planned." Finally she looked at him, really looked at him. He looked as tired as she felt. And perhaps more used.

"It'll be ok," she said. Her tummy rumbled, and they both gave each other weak smiles.

They both turned at leaves crunching underfoot, and she turned to Noah with relief. He met her gaze as he shrugged out of his shirt and gave it to her. She took it, their fingers brushing. He turned to give her some privacy, then so did Jack. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and wrapped it around her, kimono style. Noah's scent reached her, mixed with sweat.

"Let's get out of here," Jack said after the silence stretched. "Did you park behind the shed?"

Noah nodded, hands in his jeans pockets. They started walking, and Olivia called out. "Wait."

They both turned. She swallowed. "Nobody's going to say anything, are they?"

Noah shook his head while Jack said "Fuck no."

She smiled slightly. "Good. I'd hate to have you say you both like it gagged and bound."

"As if," Jack muttered. "My dick is still sore." Then he looked at her, and flushed. "I mean-"

"We all know what you mean," Noah said, and winked at her. She smiled back.

When the reached Noah's car, the green camiro was a welcome sight. It was like some unspoken agreement, because they all began to run for it.