The Centaur Coach Ch. 03

What's it going to be like, to have my mouth flooded with his potential foals? How long is my belly going to look pregnant, stuffed with all those would-be centaurs?

But then Kyln says, 'Flatten your tongue, sissy,' and I realise I'm going to learn very soon.

So I do as he says. I get my tongue as flat as can be, and keep tugging.

Then the Coach grunts. 'Fuck. Goddamn.'

The horse flare swells, strains my lips, and rewards me for my efforts. A heavy quantity of something thick and creamy, heavy as hell, like hot custard, spills out across my tongue. I hear myself moan. Coach Kyln slams a hoof upon the floor, and swings his tail.

I can just about imagine it, the equid dick opening out into my mouth, depositing something that should be utterly disgusting and yet is...is...

'Don't be afraid to swallow, sissy,' the Coach says. 'But I don't blame you for savouring me.'

Kyln's load is salty, rich, weirdly buttery. It's a savoury thing, loaded with potency, a taste that makes parts of my head switch on and others switch off. This is primal, this is animalistic, this is submitting to another male to such an extent that I'm letting him pack my mouth -- and soon, my belly -- with his semen.

'Mhm.'

I roll the stuff around, tasting it properly, enjoying this naughtiest of substances. The stallion grunts, clacks a hoof, and deposits a second shot that completely fills my mouth to the brim. Cheeks stuffed, seed threatening to escape, I'm forced to attempt a heavy gulp but even so, the seal of my lips breaks momentarily and his thick gooey orgasm leaks down my chin and onto my bare chest.

'More--ughn--where that came from.'

Kyln's seed slides down my throat, trailing a pleasant warmth as it goes. He's feeding me, feeding me his pride. The centaur produces another heavy shot and again my mouth is full, but I'm a little better prepared this time. I moan around his dick, roll about his strangely delicious baby-batter, and swallow enough of it that I can handle the next shot.

Before I know it I'm starting to feel fuller and fuller, belly swelling with the stud's voluminous semen. Something clicks, something strange, and I start to cum, cum just from tasting and swallowing Kyln.

He chuckles, warm and mocking. 'It happens, slut. Ughn. Your body knows what it wants. What it needs.'

The orgasm is strange, muted yet wonderful, my cock untouched but spurting away as the much older centaur stud rewards my dutiful mouth with another thick deposit of his rich and salty man-milk. What little stability of thought I had promptly takes its leave.

I savour and swallow, and he produces. Time is a distant thing, out of focus, out of sight. All the world is Kyln's potent male flavour, so creamy and rich. All the world is his potent smells, his musk, his animal stink. All the world is the way his dick throbs and spits, endlessly producing, fiercely straining against my lips and fingers.

And all the world is the swelling of my belly, and the spilling of my seed.

The centaur's semen is so at home in my mouth, the way it sloshes out again and again and again upon my waiting tongue. Coach Kyln's swollen flare-glans will shudder and in excitement, to taste more of his fresh ejaculate, I'll get my tongue ready to catch the latest spray of manly cream. It never disappoints, so hot and delicious, so assertive in the way it fills my world.

Coach Kyln is past laughing now, past mocking. He grunts and shudders but mostly rides the wave, basking in the long slow orgasm and what must be a vulgar kind of pride, knowing that I'm gulping down such copious quantities of his semen, of his sperm.

I don't even realise that an end will arrive until at last his glans spits no more, and my mouth is left empty in wait for a replacement that never comes.

'You're a good kid, Greyson,' Kyln says. His cock is softer now, his voice calmer. 'Let's see that pregnant belly.'

He moves, and I'm powerless to interrupt. The centaur's great cock, a little smaller now, slips from my mouth as he turns about. I burp, tasting the rich musky notes of his man-chowder, of the hundred billion would-be-foals coming to rest in my fat belly. God, I can barely move, I'm so full.

'Quite a sight.' The centaur is watching me now, stood a little away, all warm with pride and contentment. He's gotten what he wants. Received what he deserves. 'How's it feel?'

'Filling,' I say. Another burp. I lick my lips. 'Shit. I've never been so full.'

'You'll be fine within the hour.' He chuckles. 'You look good, Greyson. Stuffed with my semen. It suits you.'

I hazard a sleepy grin, but everything is so much effort. 'You...you're delicious, daddy.'

The Coach moves nearer, cupping my head with his strong hands. 'I know, slut. Daddy's little cumdump cocksucker, aren't you?'

'Y-eah.'

He strokes my hair with surprising gentleness. 'You're my mare, boy. You belong to my dick. You exist to resolve its tensions. Do you understand?'

Sleepily, stuffed as I am, I nod. 'Y-eah.'

'Starting tomorrow, you won't need a packed lunch. You'll see me, instead.'

I can't help but lick my lips. 'Okay, Coach. No packed lunches.'

'I'll leave the door open,' he says, giving my head a pat. Kyln goes to the exit and I lay down, falling into a stupor, cum-drunk, bloated with the older stallion's healthy swimmers. 'You're mine, Greyson. Don't forget it. You know the rules.' He chuckles, turning away. 'I might even mount you, if you're lucky.'

I can barely do anything, let alone protest.

I lay down on my back, in the quiet shower, and shut my eyes.