Page 6 of Stolen Hours

“God, Melinda,” I can barely gasp out as she flattens me to the bed. She leaves me breathless, erotic images painted in my mind as she steps between my thighs, so much smaller, but looking so determined.

Melinda snuggles up close, her toy cock against my thigh, her body bowing briefly so her mouth can capture my cock. For several seconds, I’m lost in ecstasy while her mouth dances on me and her fingers stroke down between my cheeks, honing in on the tight ring of flesh that opens easily for a female’s tail—or fingers.

“Melinda!” I choke out, gasping as she sucks hard on the tip of my cock and her fingers swirl inside of me.

“Good gargoyle,” she purrs, her wrist pumping her fingers in and out of me. “So relaxed and ready for this nice thick cock.”

“If you keep talking like that, I won’t last a second more,” I warn, and I mean it.

Melinda tosses her hair and grabs a bottle of lubricant from the side of the bed. She slides it all over my cock and dribbles it down, working it in deep. “I have no problem fucking you when you’re covered in come,” she smirks, and my jaw drops at the sheer naughtiness of this woman. “In fact, maybe it would be a challenge—start with you nice and soft, and pound you until you’re rock hard and coming all over me again. Hmm?”

I let out a grunt of desperation as her slippery fingers increase their pace, aiming up, touching sensitive spots inside that make my cock leak and dribble faster and harder than it ever has in my life.

“Put your tail around your cock. Stroke yourself. I think my hands are going to be a little busy at first,” Melinda pants, sliding her fingers from me and gripping the shaft of the toy between her legs. One hand braces on my thigh as she wriggles and shifts, trying to line us up.

The way her lips curl in concentration and her brow furrows makes me fall harder than I thought I could. My little bride. Giving me so many gifts.

My tail caresses the curve of her hip, and it’s tempting to invade the little pink ring of gaping muscle and dripping cum I gave her during my hour.

My mouth dries out in excitement, wondering if I’m going to look the same, stretched around her, feeling so impossibly full.

All at once, my tail can’t help but lock around my cock and start stroking, nice and steady, tightening like a vise as Melinda’s cock nudges against my anus in a direct hit this time. With a hiss from me and a grunt from her, the head, so much larger than a tail tip or her clever, slender fingers, lodges inside.

“There we go,” she says, satisfied. She squirts more lubricant on her cock, and holds my thighs to her chest as she slowly lets my relaxing muscles and gravity do the work.

“How’s that?” she asks as inches slowly fill me.

In truth, I’m not sure how to describe it, so I just nod, tail starting to jerk in a faster, more uneven pace.

It’s so good, but so different, and there are so many thoughts in my head, warring with the pure, primal pleasure.

Melinda. Big, thick toy. Tight little pussy. Beautiful girl. Everything in one package, spreading me open like a virgin sacrifice.

Why does that make an actual splash of pre-cum land on my chest?

“You have to tell me if you like it,” Melinda warns. “Or I have to stop.”

“So full. So good to be full of you,” I whimper as I feel her soft skin meet mine more fully. The base of my tail rubs against her wet, swollen pussy, and I grit my teeth to delay the peak that’s going to come at any second.

“Already?” Melinda giggles.

She knows me so well. “Uh-huh,” I grunt.

“Well, let go then, baby. Come for me. I’m not going to stop fucking you, though. I’ll just keep going, one orgasm into the next,” she warns.

“Best threat ever,” I gasp out, feeling her shift inside of me, wriggling, making my muscles burn and stretch around the thickest part of her cock, my insides straining at how full I feel—and how good that fullness feels.

She’s not even thrusting in and out of me yet. When she actually does—

With a curse, I explode, cum flying across her breasts and belly, over my thighs and tail.

Melinda, that little minx, that diabolical bride of mine, grips my thighs and uses my much larger size as her anchor, smiling in satisfaction as she witnesses the mess she’s made of me.

I know that feeling, and love it.

“You look so sexy like that,” she purrs, hips finding a cautious pace.

The first tug backward drags and burns like an overextended stretch.