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I awoke gasping for air. My body dripped with sweat. I was on my back, seemingly surrounded by warmth, and through blurred vision I could sense a large, dark shape looming over me. Thick fingers caressed my cheeks, gently rocking my head back and forth.

A deep rumble of a voice came from the shape above, "Hey, are you back? I think you passed out on my dick."

On his dick? Oh my gods, there it was. My legs were up in the air, splayed around his sides, and his flare was wedged inside my stretching anal ring. I gradually became aware that I was already loose deep into my body. How long have we been at it? His shaft throbbed between my asscheeks, and I let out a weak moan.

Disjointed memories rushed back through my mind. Drinks at the bar. That baritone voice beside to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. The warmth of a fireplace in the living room. Strong hands gripping around my hips, lifting me onto the largest bed I'd even seen.

He let out a breathy chuckle. "No one's been able to take me past the medial ring before, but I guess even you have your limits. I'll be more gentle if you're good to keep going."

My train of thought slowly arced back to the present. With effort, I focused on the face staring down at me: a long equine snout ending in a set of broad nostrils. His brown eyes held genuine concern, but behind it I could see the same hopeful lust I'd seen at the bar.

He stopped shaking my head and leaned in closer, examining my face. "You good?"

My mouth still didn't want to work. I swallowed hard, but a lump persisted in my throat. So instead I just slowly nodded, mustering as much confidence as I could. Relief spread across his face, and the bed creaked as he straightened back up.

"That's a good boy." His thumb found its way to my lips and parted them. The thick digit slid across my tongue, and my body relaxed into the mattress as I suckled on it instinctively. He smiled, "Yeah, you're ready."

His other hand grasped around my waist, lifting my ass off the bed for a better angle. His hips rolled forward, and his cock slid into me with surprising and slippery ease. I arched my back in his grasp and moaned around my makeshift gag as that mass of pulsating flesh filled me in one motion. A second later, my moans cut off in a cough as the air was forced out of my lungs. How does this monster fit inside me? Panic rose in my mind but was quickly overtaken by the waves of pleasure wracking my body. I couldn't suck in my next breath, but I straightened my back, trying to push myself further down on the invading shaft.

As the world around me again grew fuzzy, my mind felt like as though it fell over the edge of a cliff. My cock spasmed, and I felt a hot spurt across my belly. I looked down just in time to catch a rope across my face, but I continued to stare, jaw slack, at my bulged abdomen. And yet his hips still looked so far away. He began to withdraw, and I drew in a long breath, letting my head fall back.

He chuckled, dipping his head down to take in the scene below. "Cumming again? You really are a size slut."

My eyes widened as I felt the eruptions subside. Again? Was that before I blacked out? I couldn't remember, but I could feel the telltale remnants of cold cum drying on me.

I had no opportunity to form my question into words, though, as he drove into me again. This time, I knew what to expect and managed to synchronize my exhalation better with the compression of my lungs. Still, as he bottomed out, I felt like I had a pile of bricks stacked on top of my chest. I knew the pressure came from within, though; my insides were just being displaced to make room for his gargantuan slab of cockmeat. The thought sent a thrill straight down to my spent balls, and I realized that I was still hard as wrought iron.

He pulled back then slammed forward again. The mattress bounced as he found his rhythm. My fingers clutched at the sheets, and each breath became forcibly short. I couldn't help moaning out each time that fat member pistoned into me, gasping in each time he withdrew. The warmth of a fresh orgasm was building inside me, already higher than the plateau of my last release.

There was a prominent protrusion around his shaft where he stopped with every thrust, and even my lust-fogged mind knew it was his medial ring. I squirmed, trying to wriggle my way lower each time it collided with my ruined hole. But his hold on my waist was like a steel trap, pinning me down like his personal fucktoy.

His pace quickened. Above me, pants and grunts came in time with his thrusts. There was a husky urgency growing in his voice as he said, "Gettin' huff close huff..."

The broad flare bloated wider inside me, and still he rammed it through my body with no effort at all. At this point, I realized I was little more than his cocksleeve, and I wanted nothing else. My guts were cramping around this enormous intruder, and my ribs ached from each jackhammering impact. But somehow it all only added to the pleasure. The veins and ridges of his leathery fucktool were grinding against my prostrate, and the sensation bathed my mind in the pink light of sexual euphoria. My tongue rolled along the underside of his thumb, and I sucked at it like it was an average man's cock. I wanted so badly to be filled more. Filled from both ends. Filled until I couldn't take any more.

He let out a rumbling moan as his hips crashed forward one last time. My body shuddered, and I gurgled around his thumb, feeling his medial ring press against my hole. I tried to relax, to will it in, even as I was teetering on the precipice of climax. I needed it inside me. I wanted more and I knew I could have it. The moment stretched along with my ass, seeming to take an eternity. I felt like I was being split open all over again.

Finally, it popped inside. Time resumed.

I saw stars.

The sudden increase in girth crushed my g-spot, and my balls pulsed just as liquid pressure exploded inside me. My belly immediately distended around the hot gush of cum, and my cock strained against the increasingly round profile of my gut while launching my apparently-third load of the evening into the air. An ocean of jizz flowed into me, as though someone had opened up a firehose. My cock stopped spurting long before his torrent slowed to a trickle, but even so, I rode the wave of my orgasm for minutes after he was done.

I was still conscious, and I considered that a win. I wanted to remember this. My belly weighed down on me like I was months pregnant. With triplets. He extracted his thumb from my mouth, leaving a long trail of drool from my chin, and I panted in shallow breaths. My hands had splayed out to either side, hanging onto whatever they could reach. I now brought them up to feel my massive stomach. The skin was taught and wobbly, as though stretched over a drum.

I felt more than I saw him lean over me, and warm lips pressed into my forehead. I could have melted right into the mattress, but immediately, he straightened back up. With a grunt, he pulled his cock backward until only the flared tip was trapped inside. As he did so, I didn't experience the emptiness I expected. The sheer mass of cum in my gut simply filled any void left behind.

There was a scrape of hooves, and he pulled his engorged cocktip out with a wet squelch. What followed sounded like two milk jugs being being upended over the hardwood floor. That deep voice, now further away than I would like, said, "Oh shit! I'll go get some towels."

Hoofsteps clopped away toward the bathroom, and I laid there motionless, legs still in the air. A hot river of cum cascaded from my gaping entrance, even when I gave an experimental clench. It just ran on and on. But that was okay.

I rubbed my sloshing belly.

There's plenty more where that came from.