Mopping Up The Losers

And shoved himself inside her big pussy, this time having the presence of mind not to immediately cum. He plunged deep, deeper than he'd have expected- balls following past her cushiony cuntlips, swallowing him whole. It was pillowy-smooth and soft, padded and velvety, that gaping cunt of hers.

He gasped, pushed out with his legs and arced his back, burying himself in her entirely- and remained there, looking up at her still face, a sneering smile of victory on his lips. Mop wasn't holding onto her waist this time - he had his arms wrapped about her enormous tits, used them as leverage to shove in, and pull out- shove in, and pull out- unsteadily at first, but soon developing a steady tact. The scchlok-schhlurp of her cunt was arousing and encouraging, as was the continued complete lack of resistance. His buttocks squeezed, muscles tightening- he rutted her hard now, rosy rear rising and sinking between her legs, watching the way her stomach and tits bounced under his rhythmic rutting.

"Dumb... fucking... cow...!" His breath came in short, ragged gasps- cheeks flushing red, salty sweat running down to sting his eyes. Mop brushed it off by mushing his face in a boob, let her fur soak up the perspiration, delighting in the free use of her body. "Take it...!" He hissed, spitting and frothing. "Take my cock!" It felt right to say it- confident, in command. "Take my cock in your... your cunt!" That was it- dumb broad! Cheap whore! "C-cunt!" He wavered, felt the muscles in his arms giving out, his legs nearly cramping. "Cccuunnttt!"

Mop came again, squirting in her snatch, laying limp on her like a wet rag. It wasn't nearly the heroic conquering he'd hoped it would be. He was spent, exhausted- and so were his balls, hurting and emptied. The bravado he'd felt had drained with the last of his nut, and now he could barely remain upright, eyelids fluttering, panting and mewling like a child. Finally, he fell forward and into her, cushioned by her toned stomach and gigantic furry pillows once more. Mops head landed between them, turned to the side so that he could with one eye stare up at her face, looming there, silent as a statue.

"Serves you right, cow." He murmured, pushing into her side tit, squeezing them as tight as he could- lazily thrusting his shrinking cock into her fat cunt. She didn't reply, didn't bat an eye, just... took it.

He kissed her tit, put his lips on a particularly blotched bruise. Mop wanted so badly to doze off, to use her as an indifferent living bed, but that was asking for trouble. Reluctantly, he extracted his prick, affectionately stroking it like a warrior returned from battle.

For good measure, he gave it a few good rubs- managing, to his surprise, a few more spurts of cum onto her mons.

Mop watched his handiwork- saw the white slowly dredge out of her cavernous cunt, and felt content. That was a victory well earned, and another notch in his belt. Probably two notches, really, considering how huge this bad bitch was. Two and a half.

Sun had set. Fun was over. Slowly, he got up- but felt like a man born anew. He set to whistling, clambering into his discarded pants and pulling them up, fastening belt and buckle (more than a dozen lines etched into it already). Mop grabbed the mop, dunked it in the soapy water, and without hesitation set to work:

Starting with swabbing off the stray cum and sweat around her cunt. Was hard, that- he felt like an artist forced to burn up his own work, his magnum opus, if you will- but better safe than sorry. Up along her midriff, reaching those gigantic tits to make sure there was not a trace of pre-cum around her thunder bluffs, tickled her tongue with the rags and finally, for the coup-de-grace-

Mop shoved the stick up her bruised pussy, squelching loudly. Wielding it in warriors two-handed grip he handled it with manful strokes, going as deep as he could, twisting and turning the handle to really swab clean. He'd been tempted to gamble on this in the past, but he was sure that once a woman was conscious once more and got up, all that cum would come leaking out and there would be hell to pay. No, better to play it safe, be smart about it and aim for the longterm. Swish, swosh, slurp and -plop-! Out the mop came, cunt squeaky clean no doubt!

There! No sign of his ill deeds, just a tired tauren woman, all tidied up. Heck, he'd even made sure the bloodstains got out of her fur, so on the whole she was coming out of this with a net positive, wasn't she?

Still, combatants could get awfully prickly about being swabbed down by a mop-boy, so it was best to be gone from here when they woke up. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them, right? And he'd been quick with the mop too, so even if taurens could get knocked up by humans (which wasn't a thing, he was pretty sure) then his swift action had guaranteed he wouldn't be the father of any half-breeds and had saved them both much headache. On the whole, Mop felt he deserved a proper thanks for being so considerate- but some heroes never get their due, and he supposed he'd have to labour on, thankless.

He made his little circuit around the arena floor (finally doing what he was paid for), cleaning up the rest of the stains, only occasionally passing by the woman to grope a tit or so. Just to make sure she wasn't really dead you understand, he wasn't heartless.

___

Orghuka groaned, slowly coming to. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she could spy the retreating back of some boy, dragging a cart behind him. She tried to move, but all her limbs screamed in agony and so she slumped back, grunting.

Her mighty brow furrowed. She should've been more angry at the loss- should be going through what had gone wrong, what would be her next step, how best she could get revenge on that heifer Katunka... but in truth, all she could think of now was:

Why did she have the taste of soap in her mouth?