A Dragon’s natural call
There was no need to drink so much beer
Kinktober Day 29: Body Worship/Omorashi
A Dragon’s natural call
There was no need to drink so much beer
Kinktober Day 29: Body Worship/Omorashi
“That- That was a good evening!”
“It certainly did!”
“With Bubba rolling under the table? Always.”
With the arms wrapped around one another, two Dragons were leaving Alvar’s eatery. As the most prominent chef in the Artisan Homeworld, he was also the only one who could cook any roast to perfection while handling tables, chatting, and pouring more drinks.
Beers, water, anything went. However, it was the former Asher who had been abusing them, as his gait was somewhat tottering. One step left, one step right, he practically had to lean his weight on his partner, Halvor.
The blacksmith Dragon, covered in purple scales, certainly had to put in the effort to help his towering and top-heavy partner. But it was so for many more Dragons who had the same gait after another night of celebration, after another fortuitous new moon.
“Oh, oh. That was good. I didn’t know Cyprin could balance so many mugs on his muzzle.”
“I know, the thirteen almost made everything fall.”
“The thirteen? I bet on the fifth!” laughed Asher, smacking his knees and almost dropping forward if not for Halvor’s intervention.
“Calm down. We are not in Cliff Town. And flying there might be a bad idea!”
“Flying? Flying? I’m full like a keg! I cannot fly! I can roll… Or crawl. Like a worm.”
“Crawling doesn’t suit you.”
“Crawling? Pfhh! I could do that… If… If…”
“If?”
Asher’s eyes scanned the place before he grabbed his lorgnettes and aligned them.
“Where are we?”
“On our way to the portal,” said Halvor, prosaically. “Oh, that fermented juice must have been something.”
“Fermented? It was fermented?”
“They warned you it was fermented and that you shouldn’t drink as much.”
“Yes! But how can you get a keg if you’re not filling it?”
“A… No.”
Halvor’s reaction was to raise an eyebrow and see his partner, the dark Purple Dragon, lean back and chuckle. No, offer a wide grin, though more dragons still surrounded them.
“Yes… I did,” offered the old Dragon. “Wanna see?”
Halvor’s face would have burst red… If he wasn’t already covered in scales. Instead, he had a shy smile while he ushered the grinning, laughing, and tottering Asher behind one of the large buildings all around the Artisans' homeworld.
They were practically in a back garden, surrounded by flowers, when Halvor released his grip… And lowered his gaze on Asher’s body, his teeth digging into his hips.
“Ahw… That was an evening. Spyro’s anniversary. You’d think he’ll miss us when he’s gone exploring new worlds?”
“Certainly,” commented Halvor, though he couldn’t pry his eyes from the hulking partner.
Though they were both from the Peace Keepers order, Asher was his mentor. Older, stronger, he’d been one of the first to establish the order. And even with his advanced age, he looked… Massive. Sexy. And certainly top-heavy. Those biceps were bulging, and those pecs were downright bigger than Halvor’s head. Yet… As the older Dragon sat down and leaned back on a stone bench, there was something else.
“Come on. Give your mentor some love,” said Asher, grinning.
“Certainly, Sir.”
Asher’s grin changed, shifted ever so slightly to go from the genuine and kind smile to a mischievous grin as he passed a hand behind Halvor’s head and guided him. First, that muzzle was pressed against Asher’s shoulder, making him feel the clenching muscles. Then, with a more careful yank, Halvor had his muzzle pressed not against the arm or the pectoral, but right into that sweaty and greasy armpit. Something that stank of effort, sweat, and much more.
That stank of sheer Dragonhood, the kind that only got better with age. And Halvor sniffed it, inhaled the perfume, and then licked the softer scales while his idle hands went on Asher’s pectoral, digging in them.
“You’ve been eyeing me all night for this, right, Hal’?”
“Hrmphh,” nodded Halvor, his muzzle locked underneath that arm. The smell there was the strongest, but the flavor that followed it was definitely one to behold… Or to taste.
Halvor’s eyes rolled, and his nostrils were dilated. And his tongue pressed hard on the scales while he massaged and squeezed those powerful muscles. Tense, as always, too.
“And you certainly went to see if I took a piss,” said Asher, continuing. “True?”
Another huffed nod, while Halvor’s fingers went down.
“Do you want to feel it?”
Oh, Halvor’s erection pressed underneath his loincloth. But his hand descended, followed by the six-pack Asher kept with the age, on the slutty and thin waist… Right to the belt, Asher removed with a yank. Then, with a delicious and enraptured finger, Halvor felt it. The bump, hard.
“There is so much beer inside it. It must stink,” said Asher, removing Halvor’s muzzle from his pit to have it pressed against the pecs. “You want to see it so bad, do you?”
“Y… Yes, Asher. You must be so full,” mumbled the Blacksmith, passing a hand on the swollen bladder that bulged through the scales.
All evening, Halvor had been watching Asher chugging down beer after beer, spirit after spirit, without taking a break. And now, that bladder must be complete and about to burst. Just the idea of watching the old Asher releasing that pressure made Halvor worked up and needy, his teeth biting his lips.
“Help me, then,” said Asher, his voice authoritative as he grabbed one of Halvor’s hands, pulling it down… Down to Asher’s external and sizable cock. To the monster of flesh that filled the Blacksmith’s hand.
It throbbed under the touch, and the sheer weight made it feel like a mace more than anything else. Even then, Halvor swallowed his saliva in excitement. He… Had been doing this often, with Asher. But never in public, never after the old Dragon had drunk so much.
Yet, his fingers approached the wide foreskin-covered tip and pulled on the greasy skin to uncover the silvery ring protruding from the old man’s urethra.
A touch, a caress, and Asher shivered.
“That’s it. I’m so full of piss. I kept the keg full for you, Hal’!”
Then, Halvor smiled gently. He had a careful movement as every hit, every touch, was reverberating through the ring and below. Then… With the finger hooked, Halvor pulled gently while stroking Asher’s bladder.
He watched and admired the Elderly Dragon sigh while a few droplets of precum dripped free from the urethra once the first bead was out. Same for the second.
All the while, Halvor even leaned forward to kiss the Elder’s chest, taking in the aroma of sweat, dirt, and cheap alcohol while he pulled the rod out. With the beads placed at regular intervals, Asher’s cock had its underside bulging.
But those orbs, those beads, were slipping and rolling, visible underneath the cock, before they popped free, liberating a few more droplets that were starting to get a yellow tint.
Asher?
He sighed, passed a hand over his forehead, and clenched his head.
“You are doing great, Hal’. Steady… Steady.”
Oh, Halvor was steady. But he was excited, too. He watched and felt the tremor going through Asher’s groin; he felt that weight right underneath the scales. All that piss he wanted to see.
And then…
With a pop, Asher grumbled.
“Here we go.”
Another bead slipped from the Dragon’s cock, now hard as steel, and Halvor felt blood be drawn from his lips. But the result was wondrous when… The droplets flowed freely. Yellow, stinking, steamy, dropping.
The liquid flowed freely with pressure, forming small jets in different directions. Then… With the orbs being pulled out, the jets turned into a fountain. A flow that splashed Halvor’s hand, though the blacksmith didn’t pull away. Rather, he continued to breathe against Asher’s belly while stroking that bladder and feeling the pressure lessen so slightly.
Then, as he heard a cough. A signal… Halvor pulled the ribbed rod out. At that moment, Asher moaned and threw his head back. His balance was tedious, but he held onto the Blacksmith who remained close, pressed against that chest, stroking that tenderly swollen bladder… And watched a thunderous jet rush out of the Dragon’s urethra, practically a flood, before it landed on the plants.
Quickly, the dark yellow liquid formed a pooling puddle, drowning the grass and releasing a pungent, steamy fume that was pleasing to Halvor's nose as he watched the continuous flow.
It wasn’t certain if his ministration helped. His piss-covered hand went to stroke Asher’s body while he kissed that chest, while he stroked that bladder feeling emptier… And smiled.
“That’s… That’s so good, Asher,” said Halvor, feeling like he was bursting in his pants while masturbating the Elderly Dragon, squeezing that cock and sometimes stopping the jet solely to release his grip. He watched the liquid flow, covering the flowerbeds, and he even pointed the cock at another stone bench before the spray lessened.
It felt like all that fun was ending… But still, the Blacksmith stroked Asher’s belly, covered his chest with praise… And felt a firm grip stroking his nape.
“Is that what you wanted tonight?”
“Yes. That’s… That was beautiful, Asher.”