The Djinn’s Wish Waylon #4
The werewolf’s finger breached me, and I pushed back against him, inviting more. His chest pressed against my back, warm and solid, a light dusting of fur tickling my skin. His erection nudged against my thigh, impressively large with a thick knot at the base.
“What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable?” he suggested, his breath hot against my ear.
As tempting as it was, I had other plans for the night. “Another time,” I said, turning to face him. “I’ve got something waiting for me downstairs.”
His eyes flashed with disappointment, but he nodded, understanding the unwritten rules of the bathhouse. No hard feelings, no expectations. “Your loss,” he said with a wink, already eyeing another man a few showers down.
I finished rinsing off and stepped out, grabbing a fresh towel.
My skin tingled with anticipation as I made my way through the main bath area.
The large central pool was filled with men lounging in the warm water, some chatting casually, others engaged in more intimate activities.
Along the edges, bodies writhed together on padded benches.
I paused to watch a threesome between two vampires and a human, their pale hands moving over the man’s tanned skin like artists sculpting clay.
The human’s face was contorted in ecstasy as they fed from him, taking small sips from his neck and inner thigh.
It was beautiful in its way, this exchange of pleasure.
Near the sauna, a group had formed around a particularly well-endowed centaur who was receiving oral attention from three different men while others watched and stroked themselves. The centaur caught my eye and nodded appreciatively, silently inviting me to join.
On another day, I might have. But tonight, I was looking for someone to service me instead of the other way around.
I found a place of my own at the edge of the massive pool and dropped my towel on the floor, not caring that I was hard and exposed.
I sat on the lip of the pool, only my feet in the steaming water as I looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the sexual decadence around me.
A slim man with pointed ears and iridescent skin approached me, his eyes a hypnotic swirl of blue and green. A water sprite, I’d guess, by the way his skin seemed to shimmer with moisture despite being dry.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice melodic and enticing.
I patted the space beside me. “Be my guest.”
He slid gracefully onto the ledge, his thigh brushing against mine. Up close, I could see intricate patterns across his skin that resembled waves or currents. Water sprites were rare in these parts. They usually preferred coastal cities.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” I said, making conversation as his hand casually landed on my knee.
“Just visiting,” he replied, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin. “I heard this was the best place in the city for... connections.”
His hand moved higher up my thigh, and I spread my legs slightly to give him better access. Around us, the bathhouse hummed with activity. Moans echoed off the tile, bodies slapped together, and there was an occasional splash as someone entered or exited the pool.
“You heard right,” I confirmed as his fingers wrapped around my cock. His touch was cool and slick, like water given form. “Fuck, that feels good.”
The sprite smiled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I have many talents,” he whispered, sliding off the ledge and positioning himself between my legs. “May I demonstrate?”
I nodded, leaning back on my elbows as he took me into his mouth. His lips were impossibly soft, and his tongue… fuck… his tongue seemed to ripple around me like water currents. I groaned, one hand moving to the back of his head, not pushing, just resting there as he worked his magic.
Across the pool, another werewolf caught my eye and began stroking himself while watching us. I maintained eye contact with him, enjoying the exhibitionist thrill. The sprite between my legs hummed with approval, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure up my spine.
“Fuck,” I hissed as he took me deeper, his throat contracting around me.
His hands gripped my thighs, keeping me spread open as he bobbed his head.
The sensation was incredible. It wasn’t just wet and warm like a human’s mouth, but somehow fluid, as if his entire being was flowing around me with a preciseness that made me squirm.
More men had gathered to watch, forming a loose semicircle around us. Some were touching themselves, others were paired off, inspired by our display. I felt powerful and desired, the center of attention.
The sprite pulled back, licking his lips. “Would you like to fuck me?” he asked, his voice carrying clearly despite the ambient noise.
“Actually,” I said, catching my breath, “I was hoping to find someone to ride me.”
A voice from the crowd spoke up. “I volunteer as tribute.” A tall muscular man with dark skin and tribal markings stepped forward. He was younger, probably about twenty, with faintly green skin and tusks. It took me a moment to realize he was a half-orc, a rare breed in this world.
The sprite looked between us, then smiled. “Perhaps we can share?” he suggested.
I grinned. This was exactly what I’d come for. “I’m game if you are.”
The half-orc approached, his cock already hard and impressive. “I’m Jace,” he said.
“No names,” I reminded him gently. That was my rule here. Names made things personal, and personal wasn’t what I wanted.
He nodded in understanding. “Where do you wanna do this?”
I glanced around. The main pool was already hosting several similar encounters, but I preferred something with a little more support. “The benches,” I suggested, nodding toward the padded loungers along the wall.
We moved as a trio to one of the empty benches. I lay back, and the sprite immediately resumed his attention to my cock, getting me fully hard again. The half-orc retrieved a few packets of lube from one of the dispensers mounted on the wall.
I watched, entranced, as the half-orc tore open the lube packet with his teeth.
His tusks glinted in the dim blue light as he squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers.
Without breaking eye contact with me, he reached behind himself and began to prepare his own entrance, his face tensing slightly as he worked himself open.
The sprite, meanwhile, had developed a rhythm that was driving me wild.
His mouth was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
Cool yet somehow burning hot, firm yet impossibly soft.
Each time he took me to the back of his throat, a small ripple of pleasure would pulse from the base of my cock up through my entire body.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I groaned, threading my fingers through the sprite’s silky hair. It felt like wet seaweed between my fingers, slippery and strange.
Around us, the crowd had grown. Men of all shapes, sizes, and species were watching, touching themselves or each other.
I spotted a vampire kissing a werewolf’s neck, their hands working each other’s cocks as they watched our show.
Two humans were on their knees in front of a minotaur, taking turns sucking his massive dick.
The entire room had become a festival of flesh, and we were at its center.
“I’m ready,” the half-orc announced, his voice deep and gravelly. The sprite reluctantly released my cock with an audible pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to my tip.
“Don’t worry,” I told him with a wink. “There’s plenty for both of you.”
The half-orc straddled my hips, his thighs powerful and trembling slightly with anticipation.
The sprite moved to kneel beside my head, his shimmering cock now at the perfect height for my mouth.
As the half-orc positioned himself above me, I took the sprite into my mouth, savoring his unique flavor.
“Oh fuck,” the sprite moaned, his hands finding purchase on the wall behind the bench.
The half-orc reached behind himself, gripping my cock firmly and guiding it to his entrance. I felt the tight ring of muscle press against my tip, then slowly, deliciously give way. He was incredibly tight, but well-lubed, and he sank down on me with a measured control that spoke of experience.
“God damn,” I groaned around the sprite’s cock as the half-orc took me completely inside him. His heat enveloped me, squeezing me in the most perfect way.
He began to ride me slowly, his powerful thighs lifting him up before letting him sink back down.
Each movement sent waves of pleasure through my body.
I focused on the sprite in my mouth, matching the rhythm the half-orc had established.
The sprite’s fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me, encouraging me to take him deeper.
The bathhouse had become a symphony of moans and wet sounds, the slapping of skin against skin providing a steady percussion.
Steam rose from the pools, creating a dreamlike atmosphere that blurred the boundaries between bodies.
In this place, we weren’t individuals anymore.
We were a collective experience of pleasure, giving and taking in equal measure.
The half-orc increased his pace, bouncing on my cock with growing urgency.
His own impressive dick slapped against my stomach with each movement, leaving traces of pre-cum on my skin.
Without breaking my rhythm on the sprite, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the half-orc’s cock, stroking him in time with his movements.
“Fuck yes,” he hissed, his head falling back, exposing the column of his thick green-tinged neck. “Just like that.”
The sprite’s breathing had become ragged, his hips now thrusting gently into my mouth. “I’m close,” he whispered, his voice somehow carrying under all the other sounds in the room.