Page 67 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

She kneels in front of me and leans back, smooth, soft white abdomen with its extra pouch begging for me to cuddle it, but my hands are busy. One wraps around my cock and pumps. The other holds the toy steady as Ingrid impales herself on it, her hips gliding up and down.

My hands are slippery, both of them. Her juices flow down, but I grip the toy until I’m worried I’ll snap it. The other hand is slick, but it’s my fault—well, it’s Ingrid’s fault, too, because my cock is leaking, endless streams, soaking me in ways I didn’t know were possible just from watching her riding, dreaming it’s me.

Knowing in seconds, in minutes, it could be me. “Ingrid... I’m not going to last long the first time if we don’t—” I don’t finish the sentence. If I don’t fuck her right now? If I don’t come first?

Ingrid moves like soft, silky lightning, a sexy, curvaceous goddess tempting her most ardent worshipper to say to hell with his injured leg, grab her, and haul her underneath me...

“Keep fucking me, and I’ll take care of it.”

“You do. You take care of me, sweetie, and I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.” I catch her hand as she pivots, and we share a long, heated look that has more than lust. “Always,” I repeat.

Ingrid nods after a second, and then...

“Goddess. Oh, goddess! My goddess!”

Am I down on three of four limbs, my naked body flush with King’s, my pussy in his face, my hand and my mouth wrapped around his cock?

Yep.

And apparently, it’s caused King to have some kind of religious conversion.

I lap the tip of his cock, my hand sliding up and down, followed by my open mouth, biting and sucking on the beautiful, rich green skin.

“Ingrid, my goddess, oh, God!”

Oh.I’mthe goddess.

I toss my hair, partly out of necessity, and partly because I feel sexy. I’m a goddess. I have this young stud under me, his hand on my ass, his other pumping a toy in and out of me.

No. Not some young hunk. I have King. My friend. My person.

He’s... Younger, sure. But earnest, and finding his way, and I’m still finding mine.

And I love being with him.

I love him.

I force my jaw wider, swallowing his tip and then some, his huge crown filling the back of my throat as I lock both my hands around his knot.

“Ohhhh... Oh fuck! Fuck, Ingrid!” his voice comes out high and reedy, and his cum follows, hitting the back of my throat and making me splutter.

Don’t care. We’re a mess.

I’m not embarrassed. The mess is unifying. Sexy mess.

Our mess.

He’s my mess. And I can be his.

“Sit on my cock. Sit on me, sweetie, right now.” King grabs my hips, and suddenly I’m on his chest, a squeaking cum-covered, giggling mess.

“What? You’re not—”

“I’ll fit inside of you better this way.” He manhandles me like a doll, but I don’t mean he’s rough. I’m just—light in his hands, and everything is fast, and hot, and explosive.

“You can get hard again—all the way?”

“If I don’t, it’s still going to feel good. I’ll still make you come. Ingrid, I—”