Pleasure of the Storm

"Ohhhhhh... Please... Take me..."

Atemisk did just that, baring his teeth in a blunt grin as he hungrily took her, his cock powering into her cunny as her folds needily suckled on his shaft, hugging his length as the wind-bull drove deep. His red eyes blazed in the mass of darkness that was his form, though there was tint of blue in there too, threatening and warning of the rising storm. For Atemisk was nowhere near done, oh no, not as he shook the building, wrenching the foundations back and forth, bellowing as he claimed her furiously, stroke after brutal stroke.

Yet his time was done with her as he unwound her hair from the bun, sending the long, flowing strands bouncing on a wrenching wind, the kind of wind that tried to go through a body, rather than around it. Sometimes, it was called a lazy wind, and the woman he was fucking even clung to his body desperately, closing her legs around him as her heels bumped his sides and buttocks, crying out for him to blow harder, to raise his winds.

Her hair flung about, covering her eyes and then streaming away again as he bellowed and she climaxed on his length, the primal wind-bull having all of her he could ever have wanted. His seed streamed deep, spreading his lust, though they were ignorant to any droplets splattering from her pussy, even as he pulled out.

He moved on to his next partner: a tall mare with a mane all wrapped up in braids. Oh, that would not do either: he wanted her but, of course, the braids had to go. Perhaps that was the corporate fashion at that time, but the black and white horse moaned as he swept her skirts up and out of the way, exposing her and making the silkier, softer fabric pull and drag against her legs.

"Ohhhhhh... Yes... Me... Me next..."

She begged for Atemisk's attention as he lay back -- but not really. He was there, floating, using the power that was his to wield as she sat astride him, taking his big, bull cock deeply up into her. Her skirt should have flowed and fallen over his hips, covering what they were doing, but the strength of the wind raged through the office, sparks flying, the electrical system deeply compromised.

She too had big hoop earrings on, perhaps a little too large but they suited her thicker neck and pricked ears well, his winds playing with them. The hoops strung back out from her ears, bobbing and twitching back and forth, gravity lost to them while they hung, horizontally, in the air. Only the piercing through her ears kept them in place, though Atemisk would never have used his powers to rip them from her ears entirely.

He was better than that. He was stronger than that. He was so much more than what they thought he was as she rode his cock, powering up and down with the flow and pull of his winds, her skirt whipping around her, flowing and pulling back and forth, back and forth. There was no rhyme or rhythm to Atemisk's wind, the bull bellowing as his cock twitched within her pussy, flowing forth with jet after jet of virile cum.

They could remain, those women he impregnated and allowed to swell with his offspring, yes. Maybe Atemisk was greedy in his claim of each and every last one of them, to be fair, but a wind spirit like him came with no bounds.

Air could not be caged. Even if boxed in, it could flow and twist, seeking the smallest of gaps to curl into, begging freedom. He was wild and he was untamed as his storm raged through the building, ripping cables out of the walls, any windows that were remaining shattering, though no one there seemed to mind.

They, at the very least, were safe, the wind ripping at their clothes, even making great tears through some skirts and even down the blouses of some ladies, popping buttons off. Yet Atemisk could not linger there, not when his lust surged, wanting to call forth gale force winds, those that could bring down entire buildings.

The breeze was tempting, but that was only foreplay to him as he swept from that floor and went to a higher level, leaving the mare behind with her hair flowing freely. His winds raged and swelled, growing in force with every passing second, moaning and groaning as if his winds themselves were a living entity.

Atemisk spun into a wind form again, disintegrating, sliding through an air duct to get to the next level, though there was nothing to hold him back, no, not in the slightest. Funnelling out into a floor that seemed to be a fitness centre, he threw exercise balls around, his winds even lifting dumbbells from racks and knocking barbells askew.

The receptionist behind the desk was dressed lightly in a short skirt that also had a pair of shorts underneath, though the fabric was just a little more restrictive around her thighs and hips, which allowed him to play with it differently. She was human, her hair bouncing and swinging in a ponytail dangling behind her head, though Atemisk swiftly tugged it loose from its tie, all so it could flow freely. It looked like she'd straightened it that morning and he relished in the silken nature of it as he swirled around her, feeding a wind tendril into her mouth, which substituted for his cock for her to suck on.

"Ohhhhh..."

She moaned around him, her brown locks swaying and flowing, dancing on his wind, whipping across her face and then away once more. Her lips parted wide and, if one was watching, they would still have been able to see her tongue and teeth through the blustering tendril of wind that was penetrating her mouth. It was not conventional -- but what had to be so when it came to Atemisk?

They would all be left with pleasant memories of his time with them, bodies aching in delightful orgasm, tremors rolling through with ardent delight.

Ah, but he could not stay there, pummelling his way out of the top of the building in a wind tunnel, dragging bodies along with him, though their moans were only of the sweet variety. Harm was not what he lived for: destruction, on the other hand...

He flowed into his wind form, billowing larger and larger, swelling as he absorbed the force of the very air around him, rising above the city once more. He grunted, a low, rumbling thrum of thunder coursing through him, but there was more to come.

He had to dive again, plummeting in a screech of his form diving by still air, until he was back in another office block, whirling around and around the skyscraper, until he had trapped it within its very own tornado. The inhabitants inside moaned and clung to one another or the desks within, whatever was on their floors, clothing rising and falling around them, no longer trapped by the call of gravity.

Perhaps that had never been so, not in the first place, no. His winds spun around and around with such force that he ripped chunks out of the building, his heart rising with the fury of the storm, need drawing upon him more and more. Oh, Atemisk had so much lust to build, but there was only destruction ahead of him, laying the entire city -- and even beyond, if that was something he wanted -- to waste.

His bellow rolled through the building, spreading out across the city as his influence rose. His winds tore through other office blocks and high-rise buildings, regardless of their use, too, tendrils of wind swirling around women, toying with bandanas and hurling up skirts to expose all they had to offer to him. He howled, his cry rolling out across the city, his need to destruct finally reaching its peak.

And then it could not be held back, no, not in the slightest, not as Atemisk sucked out inhabitants of the office buildings and more, adding them to his funnel of wind. They may have been safe, but they still spun around and around, swirling through his winds at a speed that, normally, would have caused them injury.

But his passion transcended even that as he spiralled lower, sweeping through the streets and overturning cars, the trees that had been planted to make the city "a little friendlier" ripped from their pots and places in the ground. Their curved, jagged roots reached for the sky but they were hurled that way anyway, Atemisk tiring of them too swiftly as he played with them.

Inanimate objects, such as the cars, however, were merely a side effect to the funnelling blast of his wind roaring down the streets, crunching the foundations of buildings and even ripping up the tarmac. He flowed forth, buildings rumbling and crumbling down to his wake, sucking out all those little lives into the flow of his wind, dancing and bobbing as if, to them, it was nothing more than a light breeze.

His wind was the life force that sustained so much, too much, a power unlike any other. He blasted his force into the hills, where the biggest mansions lay, the richest of the rich. But their power in the world did not mean, in the slightest, that they were infallible or indestructible.

The most powerful of his winds flowed around the mansions, rocking the foundations and twisting pillars where the mansions were over built and gaudy. Shrubbery was torn from the ground as if it was no more than a passing thought to him, yet it still feel prey to his passionate wrath.

He steadied himself into the form of a tall, well-built man as he finally stood before one woman who he had coveted for some time. She was the wife of a banker typhoon, though such insignificant human wiles did not mean all that much to him, no, not in the slightest. He howled as his storm swelled around her, shaking picture frames on the wall, ripping away wallpaper and burrowing even into the walls themselves as he sought to bring her under him. She was tall, a fitness guru with a body to die for, though she was glad in a long, flowing dress that day: something light and airy, suitable for lounging about at home.

"Ohhhhh, yessss..."

Her cries were felt rather than heard, trembling to him through the vibrations of the storm as the mansion itself was brought down around them. He lifted her on his wind and seated her on his cock with no effort at all, a smirk on his lips as her wet pussy slipped down around his length.

"Mmmmm..."

Atemisk's groan rose like another rumble of thunder -- yet it was not so. He wasn't bringing that kind of storm as his winds notched up higher, the city shaking, tendrils darting into buildings to suck out people, funnelling them into the black holes the wind tendrils created as if their lives were then going to take on some greater purpose still.

Her hair flowed against him, wrapping around his head and neck and then pulling away again as he shifted through his forms.

First the bull, big and strong, his cock powering smoothly into her as her body stretched to accommodate him. And then the wolf, primal and fierce, his chest broad and perfect for her to lean against, her hands on his shoulders. Finally, he slipped into his wind form only, penetrating her roughly, crudely, her pussy trying to grip him -- but even though he had enough strength in his wind to penetrate her, she simply could not hold on to him back.

No... She simply had to let go, her large, hoops earrings bobbing back and forth, tugging at her earlobes. Her long dress flipped up and down, dragged back and forth by a wind that wasn't yet willing to release her, no, not when it had her in its grasp, well and truly. The mansion fell around them, allowing grey daylight to spill into her abode, but no one would remember it. Structures like that, after all, gaudy and pretending to be old-fashioned, were never meant to be remembered.

She moaned as he played with her hair, though his winds attacked her with such fierceness that it was a wonder that his wind in her hair did not harm her, considering it was being tugged so brutally. Yet she was within the eye of his storm, in close enough to him that she was not affected as much as the outside buildings, her hair coiling and twisting around her, so long that it would have naturally fallen to her waist if it had been free to do so.

His winds shattered through other buildings, sweeping the grass flat, hurling expensive fountains into the air. The more modern ones came with a look of glass about them, allowing those within to see out but those outside not to see in, and he cracked them with glee, even as he fucked the woman, making love to her in the only way a storm god knew how.

Atemisk was who he was and he was not to apologise for that, no, not in the slightest, not as he howled and filled her, slamming deep, again and again, tendrils wrapped around her as the rest of him sucked lives out of the city, claiming them for himself.

And, when he did finally pull out of her, having staked his claim, his winds flowed into the sky again, pummelling through every mansion in the hills and sweeping back through the city, just to make sure every last building had been crushed down into dust. Even the underground train system, the subway, fell prey to him, ripping up the tracks and decimating all that those smaller lives had built.

He may well have been part of them, once, but that was not anymore. The time had come to leap ahead of the station he had taken on as a human, playing the part of one, claiming and sucking up their bodies and lives, spinning them within his storm.

As the hurricane raged and he flattened the city on a cataclysmic scale that had never been seen before, he roared out his triumph, bellowing through the howling blast of winds, lust in his heart.

Everything came through...in the pleasure of the storm.