Chapter 16 #3
Well, I only have myself to thank for this. I made him climb up.
I go on climbing, too, much slower, testing each branch before I trust it with my weight.
And I make sure to not look down. Because the reason that fear of height thing came so easily to mind is that it’s one of my many phobias.
But now there’s pride involved. He called my bluff, and I have to show that I’m just as tough.
The tree sways more than I hoped it would. And it creaks, of course. So the higher I get, the more it feels like it’ll fall over.
But I manage to reach the branch under where Vyrathion is sitting. “This is wonderful,” I lie. “Such a great view.”
That’s also not true - the canopy of leaves is still high above us, but this tree is a younger one that hasn’t grown all the way up yet. And I do my best to not look out at it.
“Come here,” Vyrathion says, leaning back onto the trunk of the tree while standing on his branch. “The view from here is much better.”
I cling to the branch with both hands and look stiffly straight ahead. “I’m fine, thank you. If there’s no gold, we can now go back down.”
“No, no. You promised to show me something.”
Suddenly strong arms grab me under my arms and lift me higher.
I squeal as I have to let go of the branches, half convinced he’s about to drop me to the ground.
Vyrathion sets me down on his branch and then sits down next to me. “Now you can show me.”
I grab onto his thigh and keep my eyes tightly closed. “It was… it was only for the lower branch.”
“Nonsense. What can be seen from there can certainly also be seen from this higher branch. Was it the leaves wou wanted to show me? Was it the bark? Or was it… something else?” He leans in, nuzzles my hair and lets one hand stroke along my dress, right under my chest.
“Oh,” I moan, because his touch is both suggestive and arousing, despite the distance to the ground. “All right. I’ll show you. But then we go back down, okay?”
“It has to be a highly interesting thing to be shown if I will agr-- ah. Yes, that works.”
I unceremoniously loosen my shoulder straps and pull the dress down, revealing my bare breasts underneath.
The humid jungle air kisses my skin, and the dizzying height makes my pulse race even faster.
Vyrathion’s silver eyes darken with hunger. “Beautiful,” he growls, one large hand cupping a breast, thumb brushing my nipple until it pebbles. The branch creaks beneath us, leaves rustling far below.
Emboldened by the thrill, I slide down between his thighs, balancing carefully on the wide bough.
His pants are already straining. I tug them open, freeing his massive alien cock.
It springs up, thick and ridged, those two flexible tendrils curling eagerly toward my mouth like living things.
The faint golden glow pulses along the veins.
I wrap both hands around the base and lean in, licking a slow stripe up the underside. The taste is exotic—warm, slightly sweet, like spiced nectar. Vyrathion hisses, claws gripping the branch above us.
Taking the broad head into my mouth, I suck gently, tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. One tendril strokes my cheek while the other teases my lips, seeking entrance. I take more of him, stretching my jaw around his girth, bobbing with careful enthusiasm as the tree sways gently.
“Morgan...” he groans, voice rough, hips twitching with restrained power. His hand tangles in my hair, guiding but never forcing. High above the jungle floor, I worship him with lips and tongue, the danger only heightening every slick, hungry sound.
I feel him swell even thicker between my lips, the ridges pulsing strongly against my tongue. Those clever tendrils tighten gently in my hair, trembling with his building release.
“Ohh…” Vyrathion rasps, voice strained and deep, “I’m close…”
I hum around him in answer, taking him deeper, sucking harder. The height, the risk, the sheer alien power of him only makes me bolder. One hand strokes the ridged base while the other teases the sensitive seam beneath.
He snarls softly, muscles locking. “Morgan—now—”
I pull back just enough. The first powerful spurt erupts from his cock in a thick, glowing arc of iridescent blue-white seed.
It sails past my shoulder and plummets through the leaves toward the jungle floor far below.
Another heavy spray follows, then another, each one shooting out in long, forceful jets that catch the dappled sunlight before disappearing into the canopy.
The tendrils pulse in rhythm, milking every drop as his massive shaft throbs in my grip.
Vyrathion’s roar is low and guttural, vibrating through the branch.
I stroke him through it, watching in awe as his glowing release rains down in glittering streaks, lost to the jungle below.
When the last powerful spurt fades, he slumps back against the trunk, breathing hard, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
I smile up at him, lips glistening, the distant sound of his seed hitting leaves barely audible over the wind. “Good thing we’re so high up.”