Faeophobia - Do-Me Dust Pt. 01

"Um, they're doing it in here too," Heather murmured, gnawing her kissable lower lip, fingers unconsciously tracing his pectoral muscles while she glanced nervously about. "Goodness, it's all over the house. The smell and feel of it is... almost too much. Uh, can we maybe go someplace quieter?"

She was so tiny and vulnerable in that moment. The sharp, bitchy edges gone as he loomed over the petite blonde. She was fragile and delicate, like one of those dolls made from fine china his mother collected. His impossibly hard cock bucked in his pants, trying to get at her like an attack dog.

Tonight was going better than expected!

"Come with me, babe."

Somewhere quieter? Sure. Dale was feeling downright gallant when he seized her wrist to lead them away from the debauchery. A chastity ring gleamed on one finger, and Heather let out an adorable squeak as he tugged her towards the stairs. The chapter president's private suite--his suite--was on the top floor, safe from prying eyes and ears.

They could... get to know each other better there.

________________

Heather was a mewling mess where she knelt, leaking all over the bathroom floor.

Everything about the queen of Delta Xi Gamma dripped.

Spilled water and sweat dripped from her borrowed clothes. The white schoolgirl blouse was torn and soaked translucent, clinging to her enormous knockers like wet tissue paper. Prilla didn't wear a bra, so Heather's pointy nipples stood out stark and pink under the drenched cotton fabric.

Glistening nectar dripped from her plush mound, pooling on the tiles under a wide, wobbly butt and thick thighs. Black lace panties made for a far leaner frame dug into freakishly lush hips, flossing her ass crack and parting her pussy lips like the world's smallest g-string.

Saliva dripped from her plush dick-sucking lips in thin tendrils, adding a wet sheen to the steep slopes of her porcelain cleavage. The puckered face pillows formed a natural 'O' shape as she rode out the endless train of scrumptious cums.

Thoughts dripped from her mind under the overwhelming assault of rapturous pleasure. It came from all directions, a powerful external force crushing in on Heather as though a third eye attuned to raucous, deranged perversion had opened on her forehead, inundating her frail mortal brain with a lifetime supply of degenerate images and lewd emotions.

She could somehow feel the party outside. It thrummed like a nuclear reactor of youthful passion and hormonal urges. It supercharged her uber-voluptuous body, demanding to be sated, clamoring for release.

"Someone... help. Ooomph~! Help... me."

Heather's lengthy hair was completely blue now. It stuck to her perspiring face and bare shoulders in glossy strands of lapis lazuli. The awful thirst was still there, but she didn't dare drink any more water. Every swallowed mouthful seemed to expand her ridiculous tits, hips, and rear like catchment reservoirs.

Strangely, it hadn't affected her tummy, which remained flat, nor her slender limbs or trim waistline. At the last glance in the mirror, she looked like an overinflated cartoon fuckdoll.

Besides, the thirst had changed. Mere H2O wouldn't quench the blaze in her belly anymore. She needed something else. Something long and stiff to plug one of her hungry holes and hose down the wildfire scorching Heather from within.

"There you are, bae. I've been searching all over for you. It's Prilla, right?" A smug, Chaddish voice drawled from the doorway. "Looks like you're in a bit of a tizzy. Need a hand? Or maybe some other body part? I'm a registered donor either way."

Heather twisted around to find the blockhead Jay leering at her. His brawny arms crossed lazily over his muscular chest with a definite bulge stuffed far down one trouser leg. Her mouth and snatch drooled for that meaty pole.

"Cock... c-cock! Pleeease~!" She chirped like a goddamn parakeet. Any pride or embarrassment whipped away at the prospect of sinful salvation from her torment. "Gimme that hard fucking cock. I neeeed it!"

"You sexy fairy hoes really are just a bunch of sex-crazed sluts." He smirked, unlooping his belt and unzipping his fly. "Come on then. Get a taste. I want you to swallow me first before I dump a few babies into that soppy Fae puss."

Heather almost wept with relief, crawling and dragging her gravid body towards the strapping jock, violet eyes locked on his massive manhood as it sprung free from his slacks.

She'd never even seen a real penis in person before. Forget about ever touching one. The prim and proper lady she was wouldn't know the first thing about handling a male phallus.

But that stuck-up prude was gone, and whoever she was now received lurid instruction beamed directly into her soul on every wavelength. She was built for sex. Warped and transmogrified down to the molecular level to yearn for the flavor of a man in the back of her throat. Spiritually and magically restructured to crave virile mortal seed breeding her womb with masculine potency.

And Jay--a big, strong man--had commanded her to taste him. The words made her cum-starved stomach growl as though she hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Prilla... yes. My name is Prilla." She moaned, lifting her head to strop soft cheeks against his exposed rigidity like a happy sex-kitten. "That's me. I'm Prilla."

Making that distinction felt important for some reason.

If she was Prilla, then nobody would be shocked or scandalized if they were discovered. Dumb Fae sluts did depraved, unspeakable shit like sucking a giant, yum-yum cock in bathrooms all the time.

No one's reputation would suffer if Prilla swirled her tongue greedily around his engorged, spunk-coated tip before slipping cushiony lips down the meaty shaft to eagerly asphyxiate herself on his enormity...

"Urg, ack, ack, hurk!"

"That's it. All the way down." Jay grunted, palming the back of her azure-haired skull. "I know you can do it, Prilla. You're one horned-up bitch, ain't ya?"

She was. She really, really was!

The heavenly sensation of a girthy fuckstaff distending her neck and cutting off her oxygen with proof of that. Prilla was edging something fierce, with his heavy balls nestled in her bounteous bosom and load-bearing hips humping the floor in desperation.

The hyper-sexual imagery and reckless impulses bombarding her mushy nympho brain guided her actions. It was Prilla expertly deep-throating the well-hung brute, not that other boring ninny who sought solace in meaningless status and the misery of her perceived lessers. It was Prilla firing on all cylinders to get this handsome stranger off.

He pumped harshly, violently, into her inhumanly porn-perfect face. Fucking it like a loose cunt. Hammering her fat, suckling lips until she gurgled in delight, only a finger breadth from his base.

Prilla took it all, staring up and begging him with her wide, violet eyes for more. She was so close, and only needed to feel him erupt to cross her own erogenous rubicon. If this human stud, this total hunk, could take her there, there'd be no return.

No escaping the youthful lust and carnal wonderland that was her erotically attuned new existence. To be unshackled from propriety and societal expectations. Freed to chase her deepest desires and fulfill every repressed fantasy in a way only Prilla could.

"Glurph!"

"Here I cum, you horny Fae whore!" Jay crowed, forcefully hilting himself against her sloppy chin. "Drink it all!"

Fresh pussy nectar splattered the tiles when he crammed his choking circumference deeper, her scream of heartfelt rapture muzzled by a gratuitous geyser of jism.

A euphoric warmth suffused Prilla's middle, a pleasant fullness that finally banked the fires of all-consuming arousal. She held herself there, tight throat working diligently to swallow every last spurt of creamy seed before sliding slowly, languorously, back with an indulgent smirk of satisfaction and licking her cum-glossed lips.

"Wow... thanks so much, mister! Did you mention dropping a hot, fertile load in Prilla's baby chamber? That would be, like, totally amazing, right?"

________________

Dale sipped from his gold-laced beer, sitting in an Alastair wingbacked chair with Heather's pert butt ensconced firmly in his lap, an arm curled securely around her lissom waist, while the petite silver-blonde threw back a virgin margarita.

The lime-colored mocktail glittered, too, before it was gone.

"This is fine, isn't it?" She asked uncertainly, wriggling until the tent in his trousers was hotdogged between the firm buns under her slinky emerald dress. "You won't tell anyone if we get a little cozy together? That's really important to me, Sweetie. You understand, don't you?"

"Sure thing, babe. No problemo. Now, how about a little sugar?"

The Beta Theta Fi presidential suite was spacious and richly appointed.

Dale had planned to impress the frosty sorority queen with the high, well-lit ceilings, antique rosewood furniture, and restored leather upholstery. Expensive Persian rugs covered the polished oak floors, a Wall Street executive desk was tucked into a large study nook, and his genuine Chesterfield custom king bed dominated the apartment-sized quarters.

They had barely closed the mahogany double doors before Heather had pounced on him. Shoving Dale into the uncomfortable reading chair to paw and rub at him like a catholic schoolgirl gone wild.

Christ, he wished they had saved some of that extraordinary golden dust. The drug made his cock harder than a granite pillar, and he wanted to snort lines of the sparkly aphrodisiac off those shapely little tatas.

"Alright," Heather tapped a dainty finger against her chin as though deliberating the request for a simple smooch with Dale's stiff dick wedged in her ball-busting crack. "But no kissing and telling, okay?"

"A gentleman never does." He chuffed, grinding his hips and running exploratory hands up her slender sides. "Stop being a damn tease. I know you want it, and we're past due for some action. It's tonight or never. You hear me?"

Alarm flashed across the waifish blonde's expression. Indecision was instantly replaced with beet-faced determination, and she craned her neck to plant breathily parted lips on his own, rocking her tight rump like a cowgirl riding a mechanical bull.

Their tongues quested and joined. Heather tasted of honeydew. Sweet and cloying, infinitely better than Dale had dared imagine. Her kiss was more intoxicating than the beer or glimmering powder. His hands wandered over her firm perky tits, latching on and pawing greedily.

She moaned into his mouth, strings of saliva connecting them as she spun side-on to grant him easier access. The change in position withdrew Dale from her delectable rear, but Heather compensated by squeezing his prominent lump between her thin thighs instead.

The damp, cloth-covered girth slid seamlessly into her sumptuous thigh gap, riding up the short hem of her silk dress and rubbing against somewhere warm and surprisingly wet.

"This isn't wrong, is it? For me--Heather, to yearn to feel closer to a handsome, important man like you." She cooed, gentle and plaintive. "Please tell me there's nothing wrong with that, Sweetie."

The pleading tone was so unexpected and goddamn sexy, that Dale's primed prick jerked in its restraints. Moisture seeped over his crotch, and it wasn't all from him. Heather's floral perfume was overwhelming, and the sparkle of gold on her ruby lips left him enthralled.

"Everything is fine, Babe. This was always going to happen." The sandy-haired Senior mauled her small chest in reassurance. "You just didn't know it until now."

The tension and unease in her posture evaporated like a desert mirage leaving a sultry, smiling college sexpot grinding in his lap, leaning into his groping touch and raking her manicured fingernails down his shirt front.

"Of course it was... Mmmhmm~! Thank you for explaining that to silly lil' me, Sweetie." The heat and relief in Heather's voice were palpable. She squeezed and gyrated on Dale's bulge with renewed vigor. "I really needed to hear you say that. There was no way that some tiny slip of a girl like Heather... that's me, could resist someone as powerful and hunky as you."

Her elegant hands flew to his zipper and, after a few deft motions, released the meaty heft of the monster imprisoned within. Dale grunted when it leaped free, rearing to go and smacking the sorority queen's trim tummy. Soft fingers encircled his pulsating shaft, stroking and lavishing it with worshipful attentiveness.

Something about Heather's demeanor felt off. Too submissive and servile for the formerly frigid belle. But when the first spurt of sticky precum splattered the underside of her nubile cleavage, staining the expensive emerald number, Dale couldn't muster enough coherent brain cells to give a shit.

She was right there.

The superstar showstopper of all his deepest, post-pubescent fantasies was writhing in his arms. Her precious pantyless cunt sliding against his root--smearing hot, glistening lines up and down his adamantine hardness.

Dale surged forward with the desire to claim her. To wreck Heather's prissy pussy and despoil the haughty bitch forever. His feverish hands shredded the glamorous dress, unveiling her stiff, succulent nipples set atop gently tanned molehills of lickable flesh.

He lowered his mouth to bathe them in hungry kisses.

"Oh! Oh, Sweetie! I can feel your lust. I'm drowning in your desire. Use me!" She gasped, jacking him faster. Gooey globs of seed oozed over her pumping fist and covered the cheap chastity ring. "Use this tight body to slake that youthful passion and mold my virgin snatch into the shape of your ginormous mortal cock!"

In a single fluid movement, Heather rose, twisting her toned hips like a belly dancer, and sank down on Dale's steely length with a wordless wail of ecstasy that rattled the window panes.

"Jesus, fuck! I knew you were hiding a nasty whore under that icy exterior!"

He was suddenly inside her. Snuggled in her clutching depths. The slick tightness enveloping him was like a dream. Heather's slight gymnast figure arched wantonly, every inch of her lean and defined. Her flat abdomen rippled with every piercing penetration, protruding just a fraction when she took all of him in.

Ye-Yes... by the stars! I'm your nasty whore, Sweetie. All yours tonight... Hyaaa~!" Heather cried, ripping Dale's shirt open to lick at his broad chest. "Your manly lust bakes my soul. The strength of your desire decimates my will... Hnnnh! Make me your nasty whore, Sweetie. Bend and break me on your irresistible masculinity!"

He grabbed her willowy hips--she was so fucking small and light in his grasp--and pounded up into her frantic downward momentum. Heather was bouncing on him like a feral fuckbunny, her gorgeous perfection contorted into a howling, bucking Fourth of July firework set to explode at any second.

"Fucking hell, Babe! You're going to make me cum if you keep going like that." Dale grunted, and his balls rumbled like the shifting of tectonic plates. "Is that what you want? Do you want a sticky cream pie for your first time?"

Heather's eyelids fluttered, and for a second, Dale thought he caught a flash of violet under the long lashes. Then her vise-like walls clamped down around him as a tremendous orgasm racked the silver-haired nymphet's delicate frame.

"YEESSSSS!! Give it to meeee~!"

It was probably the most textbook example of enthusiastic consent the Frat President had ever witnessed. With one final, heroic flex, he crammed every last millimeter into her constricting cunt and unleashed several years of pent-up desire for the unrepentant cock-tease in a climatic cum-blasting crescendo.

"Gah, yeah! Gonna stuff you full, slut!" He roared, biting her neck to leave his mark. "Gonna bang the bitchiness right out of you! Leave you walking bow-legged and leaking by morning!"

He crushed her in a possessive hug, still releasing inside her lithe, shaking body. Minutes that felt like hours of dizzying gratification later, Heather stared up at him, her enchanting face flushed and love-struck eyes glowing amethyst. A streak of bright blue highlighted her platinum locks.

"Promises, promises." She chimed playfully, rocking her sublime hips with sinuous seduction. "You're still rock hard inside me, Sweetie. How about taking your nasty whore for another spin and really teach her a lesson this time?"

Dale blinked.

Had her tiny titties grown a little larger?

Then Heather ran her moist pink tongue up his stubbly chin and over his mouth, leaving a glittering golden trail across his lips.

Suddenly, he didn't care.

"Get on the goddamn bed," Dale commanded, smacking her on the flank like a pony. "Face down, ass up. I'm going to loosen you up tonight, Babe."

________________

"Party. Of. The. Fucking. Century." Jay grunted, blowing his fifth--or was it his sixth--steamy wad into the unbelievably curvy Fae's insatiable snatch. "Shit, that fairy booty is slappin'. You're hotter than a stolen jalapeno and gonna drain me dry."

"More... moooore~!"

Prilla leaned naked over the toilet, pretty face pressed awkwardly into the bathroom wall, with her stupendous pale breasts balanced on the cistern. She didn't seem to mind though, if the twerking of her superbly thicc rump on his huge unwilting boner was any indication.

The azure-haired skank was a sex machine. No matter how hard or rough Jay took her, she just squealed and begged for more...

"Moooore~!"

It almost sounded like the lowing of a cow--a lonely heifer in heat. With fat haunches and immense udders like hers, the comparison wasn't unreasonable. Her imminently breedable, fertile figure was a red flag waving for the bull raging within the tireless jock's spirit.

Prilla's tattered schoolgirl clothing lay in a sodden pile on the floor behind them, and the sounds of the party-turned-orgy below had only increased in tempo and volume.

"Really, Bae?" He laughed, reaching around her lush hip to pat the sloshing paunch that had been a smooth belly. "A couple of pints worth still isn't enough for you? Fine. Fine. I've got plenty more."

"Moo-mooore~..."

Wiping his brow, Jay got back to work, trying to nail the horny Fae to the wall. A job well done was its own reward, his father always said, though the old man might have... opinions if he could see his son now.

It was a trial of stamina, hours of relentlessly rutting the magical skank. Prilla's pussy felt amazing. Soft and welcoming, but it also coiled around his rampaging rod each time she tensed in muscle-spasming orgasm, and those were coming fast and frequently.

Any time the towering senior needed a break to knock back the dregs of his beer or shake off some fatigue, she would moan in protest and take over, mashing her shaking toosh back into him with a desperate fervor.

The glorious heft of her fecund body nearly tripped him the first time she played the power-bottom move.

The small space was a hothouse. The mirror and glass window fogged over, and the tiled floor submerged under an inch of pungent fluids. The stink of sex was thick enough to taste, and everywhere their spraying juices landed took on a golden sparkle.

"Mooore~ Prilla needs moooore!" The azure-haired bimbo keened. Perspiration beaded her flawless alabaster flesh, making it glow with an ethereal quality. "Can't stop. Never stop. Want Moooo--"

Her blissful wail was cut short when the door slammed open, and Dale strode in. He was pantless, only wearing a stained white button-down, with a very familiar Fae tucked under a brawny arm, happily stroking his jutting fuckpole.