Chapter 5
Crusher
It's the sweetest cream I've ever tasted in my life. Thick, too. It clings to my tongue, making sure I can't possibly forget this.
Morgan's incredible. I've been fascinated by her from the moment she walked through my doorway, the tiny, curvy, red-haired vixen with the doe eyes and the infectious laugh, the attempts at a serious demeanor that fall apart before she can make a real effort.
Her pussy is delicious. A different sort of delicious, but if the cameras were set up optimally, I might have spent the entire evening with my head between her legs. The sounds she made will be going on a soundboard, even if it's only for my own entertainment.
I'm not always on camera when I jerk off. I do it for fun too.
But none of that holds a place in my brain once I taste that milk. It is everything. Just a single taste, just a splash, not even a sip, and I am ready to worship at her altar. She is my fertility goddess. She is—
Oh.
I frown. The moment the thought hits me, I can't shake it. "Have you been calved, baby?"
But we're in two different places. That momentary blip in my brain — when I tasted her milk and came a little — gave her cunt an extra stretch. Her head is dropped back, and she is grinding on the three inches she's taken.
I want her to have this. I want her to come all over my cock. I want her to love it. I want her begging for more. I want her to live on my length forever. But I need to know.
I gently ease her up, just enough to get her to focus.
"Calved? Oh, right, pregnant. You know, with Korchik. We only just weaned, so . . ." She gives me a coy smile and takes hold of one of her udders as though offering it to me. "This is all yours now."
Oh, fuck. She knows what she's doing. I will absolutely take her up on that offer. In just a minute.
"You just let him calf you?"
She tilts her head to the side as her brow creases.
I've only known her for a couple hours — a couple hours incredible enough I'm ready to sell my soul to those udders — but I know that crease means confusion.
"Well, right, because—ohhhhh." She winks at me, gives me a knowing nod.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to know, but we'll figure it out.
She warned me about the translator spell issue. We'll get there.
She licks her bottom lip, and I'm intrigued.
She lowers her hand from her udder to her belly, the soft pouch below her navel with its pretty white stripes. She rubs below it as she lowers her head enough she can look at me through pale eyelashes.
"Are you jealous that he got to calf me first?"
Oh, fuck.
"Do you want to calf me, Crusher?"
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Fill me up with your cock, and then your cum, and then your calf?"
"Fuuuuuuuuuck."
I don't let her say anything else. If I do, I'll blow my load all over the place, and the footage will be great, but only for like three seconds.
And even if she lets me do a few more takes after I recover, I don't know if Frank will be able to cut the footage right.
Everyone might figure out I came before I even got my cock more than three inches in that pussy.
I don't know if anyone else will care, but I will. That shit's embarrassing.
But fuckity fuck, that was hot. I'm sure if that's what really happened with the gargoyle, it was some crazy contract that had to be government-sanctioned and shit.
Prophylactic spells and the dispelling of them are taken seriously.
But fuck, if I could blast my cock through it at just her invitation, I would.
So I thrust up and drop her down, filling her with at least half my cock without warning.
She screams sharply and then goes mute, the sound cutting off in her throat.
I get it, I feel the same. It's so sudden, even as the one in control, that my body is diverting all of its focus into the tight clasp of her cunt, accommodating my length.
That's a spell too, I can feel the magic inside her, an electric tingle like touching both sides of a battery, so mild she might not even realize it.
I felt it on my tongue, too, how I knew she'd be safe.
Another pulse of milk, just another couple of droplets, spurts across my nose. I lick it right off, unwilling to waste a drop, and then I lick her teat.
She grinds on me.
I latch on.
Everything goes hazy after that. Her milk floods my mouth, her pussy floods my crotch.
I drop her down, down, down, until she sinks into her own mess, until her insides rearrange for me.
She thrashes and wails the whole time, not a battery but a live wire, but it's also ecstasy.
In the back of my mind, there's a voice telling me this isn't good footage, I'm not moving enough, I'm not making my own sounds, I'm not making my own mess.
She's the entire show, and she is putting on a goddamn show, but my viewers aren't here to see a human fuck; from what she’s told me, that footage is already out there. There’s probably footage of a gargoyle fucking a very pregnant Morgan, and holy shit, does that fill me with rage.
Not a good rage, not when we’re filming.
My fans want me to rail her. They want fluids everywhere.
Instead, the rage tells me that every drop of milk needs to be in my belly and every drop of cum needs to be in her womb.
Weirdly, it’s also telling me to lay us both down in bed on our sides, make our own little world buried beneath blankets, until Morgan’s sheath finally goes lax around me and I can spend the night inside her as I suckle on her teats.
She tangled her tiny, delicate fingers in my hair while I ate her out; I want more of that, too.
Instead, her hand goes back to her belly. "Please, Crusher!" she whines. "Please breed me!" And I feel it.
I feel her hand. I feel the pressure of it against the head of my cock, even through her flesh.
I rupture. I explode. I come like a geyser.
Morgan's gasp, the release and then renewed pressure of her hand tells me that she can feel it against her palm, too, as I flood her already overfilled cunt.
She nearly tips off me as she falls back, but I catch her, slide her up and back down my length, finally making that mess the crowd came here for.
Cum gushes out of her, all over me with a loud squelch.
And she seriously fucked my brain up with what she said, I swear, because I'm actually frustrated that none of this cum got where it needs to go.
But my balls haven't emptied yet, and with the next spurt, I hold her tight to keep her plugged, to make sure nothing else leaks.
Not until the last of it leaves me and the final tremors fade from us both, and I cave to the soft, gooey bit that's in my middle.
I tip her back to me, resting her on my chest. She makes the sweetest sound of contentment, and I close my eyes. For just a minute.
There's no coming up for air.
The moment life returns to my body, I’m compelled to clean her. There are cameras in my shower to get sexy time coverage. Cleaning up a mess means we can get more footage of making a mess. This makes sense.
But the moment I'm sure the water is hot enough to keep her warm but not too hot to hurt her furless skin and we get in the shower, I sit on the bench so she can stand between my legs and we can be eye to eye.
Instead of grabbing a fluffy pink sponge and soaping her up, I hold her by her rear so she doesn't have to actually put weight on her feet.
I nuzzle at her neck, stricken over the way the musk of her sweat fades as the water cascades down our bodies.
Her lips press along the seam of my mouth, and I can't resist licking my tongue across hers at the first opportunity I get.
She's the one to soap me up first. For all the time I spent exploring her, I never gave her that chance to explore me, and I regret that now.
The feel of her fingers digging into my short, coarse fur is enough to have me sinking back, my entire body going lax.
She washes me all the way down to my hooves, not missing a spot, and then she gives my hand a tug, silently urging me to stand.
Of course. She hasn't seen my backside yet. I can't wait to feel her hands on my tail.
Oh, except once I'm on my hooves, she turns me to face the bench as she sits on it.
Takes my hard cock in her hands.
Strokes it. Squeezes it.
Lowers her head down and gives it a kiss, a lick, a nibble.
I brace myself with my hands on the wall behind her as I moo in ecstasy. She chuckles for whatever reason, but that's just warm air dancing over my cock, tickling enough to make my tail lash.
"Moooooooorgan!" I moan as she grabs that tail, gives it a quick whip to do a single loop around her wrist, and then tugs it around me so she can use that hand to fondle my ballsack.
I drop an elbow to the tiles so I have a forearm to rest my nose on.
The tips of my horns scrape on the ceramic as I bring my other hand to the mess of hair atop her head.
There's a loop holding it all up there, but it's so much softer than my fur, and I feel like I'll literally die if I don't bury my fingers in my hair as she uses her mouth to play with my cock.
I accidentally snap the loop with my giant fingers, so hopefully it wasn't some cherished heirloom from the world the humans came from.
Just in case, I set the remains on a ledge for safekeeping before I shake her hair out and sift my fingers through it, marveling at how soft and springy the curls are even as I struggle with how to keep them from tangling.
Morgan must like the tugging sensation because she moans against my shaft, sending shivers straight to my hooves.
The only thing I can do to keep from coming early is clench my fist in her hair.
Even then, thinking about my cock spewing cum all over her face and her udders and her soft belly, in her mouth and down her throat puts me at my breaking point.
But some fiendish drive inside me has me scooping her up, bending her over the bench, and thrusting into her just in time to pump her pussy full of cum.
I find the spot between her legs, the tiny lump just above her pussy that had her whimpering before, and I scrape my dewclaw over it until her body breaks, too.
I finally clean her up when the water turns tepid.
I sit her down on the bench to dry her off, I bundle her up in my favorite bathrobe and carry her to my chair so she doesn't trip and fall over it.
On my desk is a fresh spread of snacks and several cartons of water, courtesy of Frank.
I make Morgan eat and drink first while I change the bedding, this time using a waterproof liner but covering it with the silkiest sheet and the plushest blanket I have.
I make a quick mental note of how she favored the glen cheese, the honey wafers, the toasted snownuts, and the duskmelon but only nibbled at a pickled kevra egg and ignored the sod cubes entirely.
She offers me one, though, and I lick it from between her fingers, same as she did the duskmelon. I insist she drink as much water as she can, polishing off two gallons myself before I scoop her up with one arm and grab the platter in the other and toss her on the bed.
We feed each other, first with our hands, then with our bodies, laying food out for the other to lick off. Then we fuck.
We fuck all night.
We fuck until we pass out.
We wake to fuck.
And no matter what we do — and we do a lot — the moment my balls tighten, ready to empty once more, I find my way back to her pussy. Her womb.
She's sound asleep when sunlight and the scent of coffee wake me in the morning.
I feel like I'm floating but drowning but floating as I carefully clean her sleeping body and change the bedding once again.
I leave the room quietly, joining Frank in the kitchen, taking the carafe he's made for me and dumping it into a pitcher of milk.
The caffeine is good, but I curl my nose at the milk. It's not as sweet as it should be.
Frank slides a breakfast of oatmeal with berries, honey, and alfalfa in front of me. "Soooo, we gonna talk about this?"
"Hmm?" I don't want to open my eyes yet, let alone talk. Actually, I want to go back to Morgan, but I want her to sleep too.
But she might be cold.
I should probably check on her.
"Last night?"
"Huh? Oh, thanks for dinner. That was really cool of you. Good guy, Frank. Great guy." I slurp more of the disappointing coffee and wonder how often Morgan's udders need to be milked. She seemed to produce a lot last night. I bet they hurt if she's not milked often enough.
I should probably milk her.
"Are we really not going to talk about the fact that you went into a r—Crusher!"
I open one eye, see that Frank's jaw is dropped.
I shoo him off. I don't know what's got his ball hair in a twist, but I don't think it needs to be figured out now. "Bro, I am exhausted. We'll talk about whatever it is later, alright?"
"I mean, we should probably talk about it right fucking now, but whatever," Frank huffs.