Sephalla, My Nightmare Ch. 09

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlick-schlack-glugp-thwap.

The first thing my cum-addled brain makes note of is the weight of her sextet of sublimely fat orchids slamming against my chest, swinging down from above and coming to rest against the bulging of my belly where her gigantic dick fills and distorts it. Everything else then makes sense, and the actual action of her thrusting into my skull, delivering twenty-something initial inches of demonic dickmeat past my lips and deep inside of me suddenly hits like a splendid and mind-blowing truck.

'Take it, slut. Take your Mistress. Ugh. You're b-uilt for this.'

Schlick-schlack-glugp-thwap, schlick-schlack-glugp-thwup.

Sephalla ploughs my face without hesitation, without a moment's concern, and I let my arms fall to my sides in surrender to her superiority. Her hulking horse cock defiles me, dominates me, leaves me spewing in my shorts and on the cusp of collapse from the profoundness of pleasure alone.

I'm nothing more than this, nothing more than a hole for her cock, a dumping ground for her jism. Just a delusion, just a make-believe thing, but it's enough to lose myself in and simply enjoy the process.

She doesn't need to go completely balls-deep now, because she's won. That dominant part of me, happy to watch as the submissive part not merely gets his rocks off but has them cast into orbit, into interstellar space, is making notes. The swing backwards is going to be a fine thing, the pretend power struggle where it's my turn to run things. And, of course, the dominant Jake has a means to extend his reign, where Sephalla doesn't.

Schlick-schlack-glugp-thwap, schlick-schlack-glugp-thwup.

Her big balls smack against my torso and it's the most carnal and enrapturing of experiences, matched only by the way her devilish dick throbs and strains at the realm it rules within my chest. It throbs fiercely, magically, every quake seeming to hit the core of me. Every thrust of Sephalla's beautiful and terribly titanic body seems to deliver her fat flare right into the conjecture of my soul, to touch upon the ethereal as only a demon can.

And I'm dimly aware that if I'm getting to taste her this morning, it'll be a fluke of a thing. Something about her approach suggests, loud-and-fucking-clear, that the aim here is simply to bulge my belly, to do what she wants, knowing that right now all I want is to please her, to obey her, to succumb to her.

Every time the bulky band of her sheathe kisses my lips, my knees weaken a little more. Her hold in my head is a fine thing, the pseudo-superhuman nature of my spooge-strengthened body giving me the ability to forget all such mortal concerns as injury and strain. Moment by moment I succumb to her, exist only for her, am nothing more than a sleeve for her superbly sizeable shaft.

'Guh. Aahn. So p-erfect,' Seph says. 'All mine, and so f-ucking perfect.'

Schlick-schlack-glugp-thwap, schlick-schlack-glugp-thwup.

Her tone doesn't give it away, nor does she slow her motions. My eyes widen as the realisation hits, as my belly begins to steadily grow, and a swirling maelstrom of sticky sublimeness packs my guts with her perverse payload. A hundred billion demonic equid swimmers, erupting deep into what must be my stomach, directly squirted inside of me with tantalising force and tremor-inducing vigour. Her nuts rise and fall against me, shuddering away with sensual superlativeness, their contents erupting out deep inside of me.

'Mumph. Mhmf.'

Cumming again, I slip down and Sephalla allows me to fall to my knees, still pumping away, still draining herself inside of me as if I'm nothing more than a glorified pocket pussy. Her jism bloats my belly just as my own stains the inside of my boxers, and the world might as well melt for how little anything matters between the sensually searing sensation of receiving what amounts to my breakfast.

God, I wish I could taste it, but Mistress Magnificent is in control, and I'm too jizz-jammed to do anything like make a request of her. She just keeps going, keeps thrusting, keeps emptying those six hugely heavy orbs right inside me, mating with my mouth, breeding my belly, until at last the towering inferno pushes me right up into her crotch, past her sheathe, and grinds her flaming mound against my nose and eyes.

'Another time,' she says, breathy and spent. 'I...got carried away. You're so, so ideal.'

Sephalla holds us together like this for a long moment, her balls quaking against my chest where they sag low, and her dick pulsating proudly between my lips, upon my tongue, and within the entirety of my torso. The last of her load drains into me and I'm left feeling completely used, and completely satisfied for it.

Shit, I'm so full. Sleepy, on account of all her spooge. With surprising gentleness, given the roughness of her rutting, she eases me off her member at last and then carefully collects me up in her arms, sitting back upon the makeshift metal of the blowjob throne. I lick at my lips, thoroughly taste my mouth, but there's no trace of her milk. All that fantastic filthiness, and not a drop to appreciate.

'Are you okay?' she says, stroking my hair with a warm and loving hand. 'Too rough? I, uh, didn't mean to interrupt you, I just improvised and--'

'I love you,' I say, dreamy, exhausted. 'But I can't walk for a bit.'

Sephalla chuckles, though I can't bring myself to open my eyes and admire her face. She easily rests me across her legs, her cock still faintly poking against my underside, and the baleful beauty gives my belly the most delicate of touches, feeling out the squirming mass of seed set to become part of me, to be accepted into me, in that most intimate and illicit of ways.

'I bet. You look fucking good all fat with my sperm, though.' After a moment she adds, 'And I love you too, Jake. I mean, cocksucker.'

I can't help but grin, though even that comes sleepily. School is a memory, all of it's forgettable, and I'm passingly aware that this isn't going to play out quite as easily as we hoped it would. Beyond the fact that I'm going to need some digestion time for all this jism, my trousers are soaked in my own repeated loads and I'm not sure how I'm going to manage this a second time at lunch. Or if I'm even going to want lunch, with how full I am.

But more than anything, the happiness in her voice is honey on the ear, the sweetest of sounds. Such an easy thing to lose myself in, to drift off to.