Tentacles For Megan Pt. 01

When she came to, she was fully dressed and sitting at her desk. She was pleased to note that they had not wrinkled her suit. She could tell that it was going to be uncomfortable to walk after her pounding, and she looked forward to it. She looked at the clock and it was 12:42. Lunch was almost over.

The card, she noticed, was sitting at the top of her inbox. She picked it up and opened it. It said:

Dear Megan,

I hope they weren't too rough on you, but you really looked like you needed it. I suggest you leave this card here in your office. But you may, of course, do as you will.

Megan decided that she would indeed leave the card there. If this could become something that happened regularly, she knew her life would be forever changed -- for the better. Much, much better.

She straightened up her hair and makeup in her office's bathroom, and then she returned to work. Every so often she would run her hands over her breasts and vulva, which were sore and tingly, and she would shiver with delight.

The work day came to an end. She went home. It was difficult not to click her heels together every other step, but she managed to keep it professional until she got to her apartment. She unlocked the door and swung it inwards.

A wall of tentacles shot through the door, catching hold of her arms, legs, torso, and head, stifling her scream of surprise and dragging her into the apartment. She heard the door shut behind her as she was whisked into the living room and undressed.

Megan felt a little trepidatious. She had been worked over hard twice in the recent past, and she was pretty sore. Nevertheless, she felt her sex brimming with juices as the tentacles removed her clothing. She thought about the reaming she would soon be receiving, and she had misgivings. Then she noticed that, despite their violence at the door, the tentacles were moving more slowly than in the past, and were more gentle. This put her more at ease. She relaxed, now naked, lay back against the tentacles, and waited to see what would happen. She didn't have to wait long.

What seemed to be at least a dozen of the sucking tentacles appeared and began liberally drizzling their fluid all over her body. The fluid was clear, odorless, and tasteless, very very slippery, and warm, almost hot to the touch. Soon she was dripping all over, not just her pussy. Larger tentacles moved next to her then, and she worried that they would penetrate her, but they weren't penis-tipped, and they began to wrap around her entire body, arms, legs, torso, back, belly, ass, hands, feet. The fluid acted as massage oil as the tentacles began to squeeze and rub her. After the rigors of the day at the office, not to mention her liaisons with the tentacles, it felt so good that Megan began to coo and ah. A deep, throaty, sensuous laugh bubbled up out of her, and she gave herself to the tentacles that were loving her so kindly.

This went on for a long time, or what seemed like a long time to Megan, who was floating in an endless ocean of sensual luxury. But eventually she began to wonder what was next. She didn't have to wonder long; just at that moment, a penis tentacle moved into her field of view until she saw it, and then it moved with deliberate slowness towards her crotch. She smiled and closed her eyes, waiting for the pressure she would soon feel at her entrance. But it didn't come. Instead, the tip began stroking and rubbing against her, sliding up the length of her slit and back down, squishing her lips and sliding against her clit. Each stroke took about three seconds. It was maddeningly pleasurable. It built slowly, and the tentacle did not stop. Up. Back. Up. Back. She began to assist the friction with her own movements. When she pressed against the tentacle, it did not yield, and her clit was pressed harder and harder. It was building, building. Up. Back. Up. Back.

If the tentacle went up one more time, she would come. It did, and she did, a long, drawn-out orgasm. Her low, throaty moans grew louder and louder, until a tentacle came and politely gagged her. Still it went on, the tentacle riding up and down her vulva, crushing her clit as she ground against it. Finally she was done, and lay still. The tentacle that had been working her slit withdrew.

Some thinner tentacles appeared then, and the bigger ones moved away from her chest. The thinner tentacles wrapped themselves around her breasts, squeezing them tightly so that her nipples were squeezed and pushed outwards, slightly distended. Then the sucking tentacles came, and latched on to her indecently protruding nipples. They nipped and bit. It hurt, but sent fire to her loins, and she didn't want it to stop.

And it didn't. Soon she was coming, the lips of her sex opening and closing on nothing. "Please," she said, "please." She felt pressure at her opening, and then a penis tentacle slid in. Wet as she was from her own juices and the lubricative fluid from the tentacles, there was no resistance whatsoever as the thick tentacle drove into her pussy until it hit bottom. Megan was beside herself.

"Please, let me have more," she pleaded. "Fill all of my holes. I want to please you. Give me all of your cocks. Everyone gets a turn."

There was a pause. The tentacles seemed to confer with one another for a moment, and then they moved in. A tentacle dripping with fluid found her asshole, smeared fluid on it, and pushed inside. Another tentacle found its way into her mouth, and she sucked it greedily. Everything was slower and gentler than it had been the last two times, and Megan poured love out of herself and onto the tentacles that were changing her life. Two penis tentacles found her hands, and she danced her fingers up and down their lengths and gave them long, steady strokes, squeezing them tightly when she came, which was happening about once a minute.

Periodically, one of the tentacles would withdraw, to be replaced with another. Sex-addled, Megan soon lost count of how many penis tentacles she was servicing. They were all different shapes and sizes, and the variety was dizzying.

A sucking tentacle latched onto her clit and sucked her gently, and she squealed and came harder. Then she was surrounded by the sucking tentacles, and they descended upon her, licking and nibbling onto every surface of her. Scalp, ears, forehead, eyebrows, cheeks, throat. Back, belly, ass, thighs, calves, feet. It tickled like fuck in places, hurt in others, but overall the pleasure was supreme.

The tentacles that constricted her breasts released them, and the newly available surfaces were then covered, nipped, pressed, pulled, and sucked. The ones on her nipples stayed put.

As if by some hidden signal, everything increased in tempo. The tentacles in her pussy, mouth, and ass began to pump her in the way that she was familiar with, and she went into high gear. She was tender and sore, but she was too far gone now to care, and the discomfort and her heightened sensitivity led to more intense pleasure.

She was going to lose it again. Everything was building up. Her entire body was one exposed nerve. And then a supernova went off inside her. She screamed and came and thrashed about and pumped her hips and pulled the penis tentacle she was sucking deep into her throat and squeezed as hard as she could with her pussy and ass, and she came and came. She was falling through space. She had no equilibrium. She was coming. Her entire being focused solely on her orgasm. She wanted it to last forever. She lost consciousness.

She awoke on the couch. As the evening's activities came back to her, she worried that she was getting tentacle fluid on her couch, but she was relatively clean, as was the couch. So they had cleaned her up before they left. Nice of them. She had just had the most mind-blowing sex that she believed anyone had ever had. But she wished she hadn't lost consciousness; she was curious as to how they left. Did they go out of the door, or just disappear, or what? She supposed it didn't matter. She got up and took a shower, glancing at the clock on her way to the bathroom. It was 1:34 am. She saw in the mirror that she was covered in hickies, though there weren't any on her face, hands, or anywhere that might not be covered by modest clothing. For which she was grateful.

After her shower, she sat on her bed, preparing for sleep. She saw the card on her nightstand and picked it up. Its front now said, "Are you ready?" Intrigued, she opened it. This is what it said:

Dear Megan,

You seem to be getting along well with my friends. Or perhaps I should say _our_ friends now. Soon it will be time for us to meet. Do you want to meet me? Tell the card, and I will know.

A friend.

Megan held the card close to her mouth, and said, "Yes, I want to meet you." Then she set it down on her nightstand, crawled under the covers, and was asleep in a few moments, a contented smile on her lips.