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Coming of Age

It is time for Drar to become a Tribe’s warrior. But why is he doing it alone with his Sire?

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With only a torch to light through the darkness, the couple of Orcs almost looked like a duo of explorers lost in a pyramid from the older ages. At least, it would be a reasonable assumption if one were to merely glance at their imposing frames and not at their current outfits.

“We’re close,” started the oldest Orc and tallest of the two, if by mere inches. The shaggy-haired and darker-skinned Orc led the way with the torch, the dark painting on his skin reflecting the torch’s light.

“I believe you,” answered the youngest, though his steps were more careful and his side glances more marked as he watched the long line of statues representing Orcs in all sorts of bellicose poses. Those towering forms were all familiar, resembling the two in many ways, while their weapons seemed to tower above the two Orcs, threatening to kill them.

“What? You chicken out? It was what you wanted, Drar, recognition,” chuckled the Oldest, shaking his ample and fit posterior, making the tiny skin loincloth sway along.

“It’s not like that, Da- Chief Rozhag. I wanted to be recognized. But why a ceremony so late? We could ask for the priests tomorrow, as usual.”

“Because this is not an ‘usual’ ceremony, Drar,” said the oldest Orc, pointing his index finger up. “It is a ceremony for our lineage.”

Their lineage. Oh, Drar was fully aware as he glanced around. The temple was practically where he grew up, except for the training grounds outside. And though he’d never been in the hall of the elders, the place was familiar.

No, the difference was their attire: the leather and reinforced loincloth had been removed to leave the bare minimum, bare minimum that allowed the breeze to tingle Drar’s genitals or the young Orc to peer at his Sire’s jiggly ass.

Even the weapons they bore were made of obsidian, unusable in a fight. As for their bodies? Three warriors spent practically an hour painstakingly drawing runes over their bodies, and Drar was certain his sweat was smearing some of it between his thighs and under his arms.

“I feel you're anxious.”

“Who wouldn’t be? Finally… I beat my chieftain in a fight. I’m thrilled. And a lot surprised.”

“You’d better tone down those emotions. I let you win, Drar… But you did well,” said Rozhag, correcting himself.

Then, as if reality itself wanted to amend for that mistake, light came forth, and Rozhag snuffed his torch.

A second later, they were bathed by the faint mix of candlelight and moonlight, the latter peering through one aperture in the temple cupola. Still, that light came and went, depending on the weather, and the rays were erratic due to the steam rising from the pooling waters.

The air itself was sultry and warm, exceedingly so. Never before had Drar seen such a place… And yet, here was his Sire standing proudly at the edge, depositing his weapons and prostrating himself.

Quickly, and without a bark, Drar stomped closer and bowed, offering his weapons, and then prostrated. A hint of surprise drew on the younger Orc’s face, watching his Sire acting with such deference when he usually was jovial and prone to outbursts.

And then… Drar was told to close his eyes.

“Dear moon. Here are the blades of my lineage, Sire and Son as one. We require your blessing in this holy event. We require your love in the advent of a new sire. We require your presence for this ritual.”

Drar closed his eyes and listened to the deferent tone his Sire took. Listened to the strange words that were uttered. A new sire? Was it happening then? Drar’s breathing hastened as his Sire’s words continued, turning into a lull. Into a mantra that was repeating to the point Drar even started to mouth them without saying anything.

And then… It stopped.

Drar opened his eyes, his breath a whisper, and felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Stand up, Drar. It is time. Come closer.”

“… Sire?” asked Drar as he stood up, his voice trembling.

His Sire’s touch left, and Drar watched him step away, nearing the steamy waters before dipping one toe in… Then his foot, his leg. And finally up to his waist as he turned to Drar.

“Come, Drar. This is your moment. Like my Sire did for me, it is time for you to learn.”

“To… Learn?” asked Drar, blinking, surprised, but joining his Sire in the waters. Their scent was slightly sulfuric but also had floral touches that were pleasant to the nose. And once his skin was in contact with the warm water, Drar felt his body tingle in an odd but pleasant way.

“Yes. Our rules stipulate that until a youth comes of age, they shall not partake in breeding.”

Drar’s mouth formed an O while he trod the waters. Already, his clearer green skin had taken a darker shade due to the blood rushing to his face. Though it was the same for his chest and belly, he felt them heat up.

“Sire. This… This is up to the priests to say so,” mumbled Drar, already squatting in the water, watching as his Sire swam and then reached what looked like a stone outcrop at the center of the pool. Perfect for them to sit, or even climb out of the water. But Razgor remained half-immersed.

“It is for those who don’t share our blood. Usually, a warrior should be beaten so that the youth can be chosen for the coming-of-age ceremony. For me, my Sire decided when I was ready. Today, you are ready, Drar. And I shall teach you how to pass your seed, take a wife, and ensure our lineage.”

“That’s…” Drar gulped, but as his Sire beckoned him closer, Drar followed. He swam closer, kicking his feet until he was sitting by his Razgor in the water.

At that instant, Drar’s face was flustered and burning.

But so was his body, so was his chest, so was his belly, so was his underbelly, so was his groin under his loincloth. Something in him was aroused, and Drar watched his Sire’s grin.

Watched that face, unmarred by scars and hair, grin at him, with those gold-filled tusks.

Razgor was a hell of a Sire with a robust build, broad shoulders, and tree-trunk-like arms that were perfect for ransacking nearby lands.

And though Drar wasn’t scrawny either, there was something else in admiring his Sire’s body from up close. So close Drar could feel his father’s breath upon him.

“Remove your loincloth,” said Razgor.

Drar again gulped.

But his fingers moved on their own, unstoppable as they undid the flimsy loincloth and let the lazy current wash it away. Instead appeared Drar’s erection, large and possibly larger than most youths of his generation. He’d compared, he’d been squabbling about who was the longest or biggest, despite the rules against touching their cocks until they were adults.

Even then, Drar felt small compared to the huge mast his Father sported, to the massive erection that even managed to pierce through the water and ascend with a reddish end.

“Tell me, Drar. Do you like what you see?”

If he liked it? Drar’s eyes could stop peering at that broad chest, the erect and darker nipples that adorned his Sire’s glabrous chest. He couldn’t stop admiring those firm abdominal muscles, that groin, those powerful testicles. Even that supple, massive, and eye-catching ass.

Nobody with a hint of wisdom would dare say Razgor had a bubbly ass to his face. But that affirmation was at Drar’s lips.

“Go on. Give it a feel. You will never know your partner’s body without touching it. You must feel the firmness of the muscles, the birthing hips’ width, and that ample posterior.”

“Sire-“

“Come closer, Drar.”

Perhaps too shy or stunned, Drar couldn’t draw his hands to touch his Sire. But with the order, Drar crawled closer. His movements were careful, especially with his cock pointing down. Soon, he was practically a foot away from his father. Yet, he had to be closer.

Closer. Closer… Closer until Drar’s breath was on his father’s chest, on his ample nipples. Until he had his legs between Razgor’s massive thighs. Until… Their cocks touched, bobbed, grazed… And then had their urethras kiss, touching, meeting.

It was something intense, warm, dazing for the young Drar as he gasped. And felt his Sire’s touch upon his thighs.

“Imitate me, Drar.”

“Si-Sire,” mumbled Drar. But his hands followed the order, and again… Drar had his hands on his father’s thighs. Then, as Razgor’s hands ascended, so did Drar’s. So did the touch until he had his hands on that plushy bottom, digging into those fat-covered muscles, into those jiggly and welcoming glutes.

“Sire.”

“Yes, Drar?” asked Razgor, grinning while watching their cocks touch and release that precum that accumulated before it formed a trail carried by the currents.

“Sire… You have a sumptuous ass.”

Razgor’s reaction was to laugh heartily, smacking his muscular belly for one second before his fingers went on Drar’s posterior, too, touching it.

“You’re certainly taking it from me,” commented Razgor, giving Drar a little smack, too, though the youngest’s was certainly more firm, but still eye-catching and impressive.

And pleasant, both for Sire and Son as the hands stroked, touched, dug into those firm posteriors.

It was far more delicate than Drar expected. More so when his Sire’s fingers dug higher and the constant stroke on the back of the thighs was guiding him to stand up. To go up on his feet, as uncertain as his stance was. To push with his legs while the unuttered words were on Drar’s lips.

Nothing was said. And soon, Drar’s erection no longer touched his father’s cocktip, no longer grazed that behemoth of a throbbing length. It rested against those lips that had shouted so many orders. Against those proud tusks of a warrior, and against that grin Razgor offered.

“You never had any partner?”

“No, Sire,” mumbled Drar, taking shallow breaths. “I have never done this.”

“Not even stroking a fellow while bathing in the river?”

Drar’s greenskin took a darker shade, brown from the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“No- No. I saw some doing it, but I kept to myself.”

“To myself? You wanked?”

Drar’s jaws opened and closed, leading to Razgor’s laugh.

“No, do not worry. If we had to refuse any warrior who cranked one before the coming of age, our tribe would have died out. But you never did it with anyone else. Good… Very good, Drar,” encouraged Razgor, smacking that posterior again to guide that aching, tense, and throbbing cock to his lips. “I’ll show you how a wife should ‘help’ you. And how she will push you to the edge.”

“The edge?”

Drar managed to ask that question, the fateful one. But any other word or answer died down when his Sire’s lips closed on his cocktip to suck on it.

Followed a sensation of shock running through Drar’s body, going from the tip, and rooting itself through his length, his groin, his lower belly, his lower limbs, his entire self.

Drar was slack-jawed, his eyes widened. His neck even craned back while he held onto his thighs and narrowly slipped, if not for Razgor’s tense grip and holding him.

The old Orc warrior was there, steadying his Son. And the Chief released that cock, while stroking those testicles with his thumb.

“Too much?”

Drar nodded.

“It is. The key is not to fight it. If you tense and fight, you will be worse. Let yourself go,” said Razgor, kissing the cocktip.

“Fi… Fine, Razgor.”

Then, Razgor returned to that shaft, this time with his lips working closer to a gentle and careful kiss than an outright blowjob.

The sensation was less intense, but it allowed Drar to let himself slip into the right mindset, into the moment. That pleasure was impressive, stunning, daunting. But it wasn’t pain.

It wasn’t pain, hence he could take it easy.

He could let himself immerse himself in it. No, he could also welcome it, closing his eyes.

And as the pleasure rooted itself within his groin, Drar no longer tensed. And it became… Easier.

He hissed, he grunted, his lips tensed.

But then he relaxed, listening to the sound of his Sire grunting and starting to advance. The lips did not wait, and their progress was steady. Slowly ushering that entire tip within again, then one inch, and another.

Drar no longer hissed. Instead, the sensation had turned into bliss. Bliss. And Warmth. And Wetness. And Growls. And Joy.

Drar’s Sire was taking him further and further, those lips working with a regularity and a talent the young Orc was thinking impossible from a male. Sure enough, females were known for their skills with their mouths.

But his Sire? Razgor? Drar blinked, but couldn’t fight the thin smile spreading across his face. A genuine smile that grew while the Sire took more than half of that shaft within.

Ensued the gargling sound of a throat, albeit experienced, letting air pass despite the pressure turning everything into a suction. Of the lips, covered with throatslime and saliva, smacking together on the shaft.

Oh, and the growls, almost silenced by the current but strong enough, Drar could get samples of them amidst the suction that was coming closer to Drar’s cock base.

Base that was then swallowed when Drar’s shaved groin felt the contact of his Sire’s tusks against them, scraping the skin, rubbing and digging into the organs beneath.

It was something novel and intense. Drar felt he was about to cum. No, to piss. No, to cum.

Fear suddenly struck the Warrior’s mind if he was wrong to let go of that pressure, to no longer hold onto the fluids that were to land into Razgor’s open mouth.

However, the more it progressed, the more difficult it became. Drar had limited stamina. And Razgor? Oh, he was finely slobbering over that shaft, polishing it with his tongue, ensuring that no spot had been left untouched. Frenum, veins, base, even the folds of skin between the cock and the scrotum?

All was touched. All was slurped on. All was slobbered upon.

All that was, all Drar was, was swallowed by the pleasure when, finally, he let go and came into his Sire’s mouth.

Surprise and apologetic words would come to Drar’s lips. But here, he was grinning like a ravenous beast, his cheeks hurting much from the sudden pressure. He even heard his ears ring for a second until it was all washed away, and the young Orc found himself on the verge of falling, held only by his Sire.

Sire, who guided him, slowly, to sit down in the water that was… Almost cold compared to his groin.

“How was it, Drar? Did you enjoy it?”

“It was…” gulped Drar, unable to think of a proper answer. “Good?”

“Good? Only good? That’s how you qualify your chief’s doing? Only… Good?” asked Razgor, his voice vibrating and his voice narrowing familiarly.

“No! No! Razgor!” answered Drar, his hands forward in a defensive posture. “It was… Excellent! Surprising! I-! I never experienced it before, and it was-“

“Haha! Calm down, pup!” shouted Razgor, smacking Drar’s back. “You did great. Most warriors shoot the second the lips touch their cocks. But you… You kept it together. Even better than me with our former Chieftain!”

“Y-You? Grandsire did it for you?”

“Of course he did! He sucked me like I did for you! He showed me all the tricks to please a female or another warrior. Oh, and he had a great ass! It was just perfect to eat out that one! His hole was so sleek, I could kiss and suck it all day. It was… Like a pussy but even better!”

“Could I try?”

“What?” asked Razgor, stopping as he was about to stretch and flex and show his biceps.

“Eating… An ass out?”

Razgor stopped, though his grin remained. He turned his chest, remaining upright, and faced Drar, putting his hands on those shoulders.

“You want to eat your Sire’s ass?”

Drar looked left, then right… And then nodded: “Yes. But not here.”

Drar did not even wait. Once his Sire’s hands drifted off his shoulders, the young Orc walked, then trudged the warm waters despite their current, with a purpose.

The flow was a delicate touch, almost soothing for Drar as he walked to the shore and ascended them, only to find himself at a different spot than where he had come.

His surprise was unfeigned, more so as he looked around and saw what appeared to be carved benches surrounded by vents releasing steam.

“What is this?”

“A Sauna, Drar. Our ancestors considered it a place for meditation. The fumes are great and… Invigorating,” said Razgor. He approached one of the benches and took a deep breath.

And invigorating the fumes were, since Razgor’s erection sprang and throbbed harder.

Drar followed, a bit uncertain, though that uncertainty vanished: he was all grins and smiles by the time his cock hardened again and he approached his Sire, watching him sit on a bench and then… Spread his legs.

“Is that what you want?” asked Razgor, shifting his weight until he was on a careful balance on his back, his asshole exposed: darker green, like swamp, and already glimmering with sweat under the moonlight.

“No.”

Razgor’s brows shifted, but Drar was quick to grip his Sire’s hips, forcibly making them twist and turn until Razgor was bending over the bench, with his legs spread.

A perfect position for Drar as he squatted behind his Sire, one hand on his groin that was painfully hard.

And the other hand? It dug into those soft mounds, joyfully touching what was the best ass in the tribe. Even from that angle, it was perfectly fit. One handful made Drar’s heart melt. No… One handful and his cock spurted with excitement as he was given the leisure to play with those cheeks that were like dough under his touch.

One push left, and the cheeks followed. Right? The same. Below? Above? They were perfectly moldable, yet their sheer consistency weighed on the young Orc’s hands.

“Enough playing, Drar. Get on with it,” grunted Razgor, though he seemed… Excited?

“Yes, Razgor.”

Drar did not salute.

But he nodded to the order, noted the presence of his Sire’s erection straining against that bent-over chest. Then, the young Orc had his breath right against Razgor’s crevice.

One breath over, and the muscles shuddered. One finger, and they opened, revealing a swampy, warm, and certainly welcoming crevice leading to a darker green and indeed not-so-virgin hole.

The rim itself was swollen, covered with a fine layer of sweat that gave it that moonlight sheen if Drar peered back. But under the touch, the sphincter was… Almost supple. A push in and it gave in, allowing Drar to enjoy the sultry and silky insides.

“Hrmph! Give it, you asshole, Drar. Faster with my ass!” shouted Razgor, though he seemed not in pain. No… He was impatient.

Drar was too slow before. Therefore, the young Orc had to act boldly. One moment, he was admiring the asshole sucking on his fingers. The second after, he had his face pressed between the cheeks. He even had his two hands squeezing the two buttcheeks apart, just so he could stuff his face in that sweaty, musky, and ass-smelling crevice.

And it was great.

Sure for a second, the young Orc was overwhelmed by the strong aroma emanating from that hole. But after? He was gladly huffing that ass, licking that rim that kept on giving. His tongue danced on the wrinkled ring, delivering a steady stream of saliva upon it. He lubed it up, he covered it with love and attention. No, beyond that, he was… prodding it.

He prodded it with his tongue, finding the taste reminiscent of that scent but stronger. And yes, clean.

His Sire’s ass was almost pristine, almost prepared. And somehow, Drar laughed to himself for a second before he was again delving into that hole, rubbing his tusks against the wide entrance while allowing his tongue to savor the pungent flavor, while smearing saliva all over: his face, that crevice, that asshole, inside those guts.

Drar slobbered all over, and smiled from it, listened to the huffs coming from the older Orc who seemed a bit… Struck or dazed by the unleashed attention.

“S-Slower, Drar. Gimme a moment to breathe,” growled Razgor.

But at the same time, the Orc had his fingers drifting close to his erection, ready to grip it. Until Drar smacked the hand away.

“You d-Ohhhh!”

Razgor was the one to be silenced this time. His irate attitude melted when Drar’s tongue danced upon a hard and rather tense spot deep within his Sire’s ass.

A spot he circled, poked, touched. Oh, and certainly teased it with his relatively strong tongue, hammering while gleefully inhaling his father’s ass… And being squished in between those cheeks.

Cheeks that continuously pressed back against his face, rubbing against his features, cheeks, and even forehead if Drar did not carefully push against those wondrous and supple mounds.

He was almost certain his Sire could also make them clap by shaking them, but that was more of a ventured guess for the young Drar.

One he wasn’t about to utter.

“Go on! Suck that ass, Drar! Make me proud!” shouted Razgor, his voice loud and booming. Enough for Drar to hear it clearly despite being utterly squeezed between that fat ass.

And so… With that new order given, Drar was quick to have his tongue unleashed and licking that spot. At the same time, he had his hands all over his Sire’s posterior, massaging and squeezing that dough-like posterior, feeling the sheer weight that could press upon him… And feeling how relaxed those glutes were… Even with the tongue licking and teasing, the older Orc was reaching the edge.

Razgor’s loud moans resonated within the elvish ruins, could be felt as echoes through the younger Orc. But no, Drar continued. He pressed his face even further, to the limit he could have his nose poking at the Orc’s inside.

Poking, nudging, and certainly adding to the pressure building up inside Razgor until the old Orc shouted and… His asshole clenched upon Drar’s face.

The suction that followed was loud. And certainly strong on the young Orc’s tongue… But at the same time, Drar didn’t pull back and certainly wouldn’t when that asshole clenched so hard, some natural lubricant ended up on Drar’s cheeks and face.

Did it stop him? Not at all. Drar was prone to stay inside, to keep teasing the Sire, to hear him roar while that loud ejaculation, like a hose or a jet, sprayed the bench and the ground. The sheer volume of cum was intense enough to produce a puddle that accumulated at first, then spread on the ground until Drar was even walking in it.

But he continued, he held onto that fat ass, jiggling and tensing and sometimes relaxing whenever Drar eased on the prostate.

But then, it hardened and...

“That’s enough, Drar,” growled Razgor, managing to push the younger Orc’s forehead away.. And so, the young Orc was forced out. His tongue was yanked away, his face freed. And for a moment of sticky glory, Drar observed Razgor looking back at him with a mix of awe, surprise, anger, and satisfaction.

All those emotions cycled on Razgor’s face as he weakly stood up, his legs trembling for a second before he was fully up… And turning to see Drar, whose face was smeared with all sorts of fluids.

“You… You were great. But you should have followed my orders,” said Razgor, grunting.

“If-“ started Drar, only to stop and slurp that saliva sticking to his lips. “If I did that, would you have cum?”

Oh, he wouldn’t. That cock, green and red, would have remained bouncing and slapping against Razgor’s belly. The very same belly now sporting a long line of cum smeared from below the pecs right to the groin.

A long line, Drar could admire with a shit-eating grin.

“No. I wouldn’t,” admitted Razgor, shaking his head. “But you must listen to your forefathers first.”

“But I wouldn’t have learned how to make someone cum with my tongue otherwise,” said Drar, defending himself while keeping that same smug grin.

“Oh. You smartass. Come here.”

A snap and Razgor had Drar up on his feet. This time again, Razgor assumed the position by bending over the benches. However, instead of having his hands digging on the stone benches, the Sire had his hands on his plump buttcheeks. He gripped them, held them hard, pressed against the muscles until the purplish flesh of his rim was revealed, and so were his musky inner walls Drar had been sampling before.

“Here, you want it? Take it?” growled Razgor.

“Are you sure?” asked Drar, but his Sire huffed and raised one hand, straightening himself.

“What? You don’t want it, now?”

Drar gulped. There was a reaction from Razgor, a certain tension. And the young Orc, with his skin clearer than usual, approached and put one hand on his Sire’s posterior while said Sire glared back.

“Did I anger you?” asked Drar, not so smug anymore.

“Anger me? No,” huffed Razgor, turning his head away for a second. Then, he returned, his lips curled into a grin. He even swayed his posterior, giving that posterior some sway… Some… Jiggle that drew Drar’s eyes if the youngest was not careful. Moreover, those cheeks’ movements were perfect in brushing Drar’s erection. “You are acting smug because you think you have the ascendant over me in this situation. I was just as smug as you… But it’s not that easy.”

“You were. Is this a trap?”

“A trap? Your Sire isn’t a green-eater. No. You are smug like I was. But my sire taught me humility. And I’ll teach you the same,” said Razgor, pushing against Drar’s groin, his back arching… All before he shook that posterior and made it… Clap. Loudly even, the sound echoed through the ruins and through Drar’s heart.

His eyes widened, but he watched Razgor’s cheeks bounce and sag and tense. All to attract his eyes before the Orc huffed.

“Come on, Drar. Grip my ass, or else I'll crush your cock.”

Drar blinked. But the tone used made him think it wasn’t a mere joke but certainty. And the hands went on Razgor’s thighs, feeling the powerful muscles that were not at rest.

And then… He could feel them shift, tense more, when Razgor breathed… And pushed back, right to have that cock nestled in between those swampy buttcheeks; to have the cocktip… ‘kissed’.

Drar almost hissed for a second, bracing himself for what would be pain and an overwhelming shock. However, the sensation was tame. More tame than what he’d experienced from Razgor’s lips. Way more enjoyable, too.

It wasn’t as brutal this time, or perhaps it was from him getting used to the penetration and suction.

Probably, as Razgor pushed closer, his hips oving like dwarven pistons. The thighs throbbed; one finger grazed Drar’s groin. And in the end, the chieftain’s erection was once again bumping against his belly, renewed and just as stiff as before.

One Drar could not watch, but felt it when his hands drifted listlessly. On the sides, the cheeks, on his Sire’s hands, then on the cock… On that throbbing erection, bobbing up and down as Razgor leaned forward, giving Drar some room to breathe.

That saliva-riddled hole, the warm sphincter, the sultry insides were… Something else.

“Raz-gor,” huffed Drar, the face redder and darker.

“It’s much, right? When I fucked my sire, it was the same. But I didn’t flap my gums like you,” chuckled Razgor, pushing with his hips to have that cocktip ushered within.

The pressure increased after a few seconds of respite. Drar winced, clenched his teeth… No, he even dug his fingers further into those plushy muscles, shifting and changing his grip while twice the length from before was inside.

Twice the length, but the pleasure… Oh, it was incomparably deeper, more enthralling than what Drar had felt.

He was out of breath.

“What is that, Drar? Already out of breath? I assumed you had more in store than that. You wouldn’t deny your future wife her pleasure? You wouldn’t make your sire assume he’d been wrong in picking you.”

“N-No,” whispered Drar through his teeth. But yes, he was practically gone.

Everything the young Orc was doing was to restrain his orgasm. The pleasure, the pressure, the movements of those hips, the grip of that entrance. It was bringing him closer to the orgasm he’d experienced before, from his Sire’s mouth.

Not as unrelenting, since his Sire’s halt eased his heart and mind… But far more brutal, far more… intimate.

This time, Drar was taking his Sire. It was not a mere play of hand or mouth like the young Orcs would do. It was… Fucking someone. Penetrating them. Breeding their hole.

Sure, Drar wouldn’t be… exactly breeding or impregnating his Sire like a female. But the appeal remained for the young Orc as his eyes drifted on Razgor’s body, watching that hulking Orc, all in muscles and power, thrusting back and forth.

Razgor moved steadily, all as if he was in control of the situation, while Drar solely had to grip him. And even then, it wasn’t much needed.

Not when that plushy and jiggly asshole, glabrous and perfect, smacked his thighs and nuts, making the young Orc understand: he was fully inside.

Entirely inside his Sire.

What he felt would be the same if he were to penetrate another male, similar and yet slightly different if he were to take a female.

Inside that hole, his cockbase was snug while his cock itself throbbed against the wall, finding the warm and slick walls a perfect resting spot for him…

More so as Razgor stopped moving and chuckled.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Ti… Tight,” moaned Drar, feeling his cock released if not for the tip.

“Not every male will be as tight as I am. And your wife will be less tight… But more snug, you- Hrmph!”

Razgor was about to explain and go on.

But Drar’s mind wanted simply… More. More as he grabbed those buttcheeks with the entire palm, holding onto them tightly before he slammed into his Sire and… Forced that sphincter to open up… To relinquish… And to swallow the length once more.

The entire organ was feeling the tight and intimate embrace moving to the base. And then back. From the base right to the tip, right to leaving that cock.

And then… Drar yanked Razgor again.

“S-Shit!” cried Razgor, evidently surprised. But Drar was louder.

His shout, his roar, his hollering, filled the ruins with the power of a warcry. His lungs were emptied as he had his cock fully slipping inside, fully going in again. His groin was burning, seared even in the case of his balls. His thighs burned from the sudden clapping of those cheeks.

But… He pushed against, ignoring Razgor’s quivering legs. The Sire was no longer in control, no longer stable. And even then?

It didn’t stop Drar from keeping that unrelenting rhythm. But he did something else as he released one cheek, released one mound. He observed his Sire’s posterior, plump and plushy, sag before he smacked it.

Razgor’s mouth formed an O in surprise, his features contorted from the surprise, pain, and pleasure he felt while his hole instinctively clenched. But he was not fighting it.

Quite the opposite. The older Orc was even masturbating with his left hand, no longer holding his posterior while Drar held him steady, kept him afoot, yet pumped that cock in and out of that hole… Making the older Orc impale himself on the Youngest’s mast.

No… He was, too, about to cum as Drar’s movements were growing erratic, were growing ravenous… Were growing defiant. Defiant to the Sire who had been in charge before.

A Sire who was getting fucked, spanked, stuffed, filled with his Son’s semen when Drar cried, shouted, and ejaculated right between those plump cheeks into that wondrously donut-shaped hole, glazing it before letting Razgor’s abused posterior free.

A sudden halt, a surprising end that left Razgor out of breath and almost wanting for more

No, definitely wanting as he was gladly masturbating himself while feeling his Son’s erection, raging and throbbing, pumping scalding hot cum inside. More cum than before. More cum than he’d ejaculated during his wet dreams, in his Sire’s mouth… More cum than he’d even thought it possible.

In that moment of sheer ecstasy, Drar came what felt like gallons of fluids right into his Sire.

Sire, who held onto his guts and cock in a precarious balance. Sire, who’d been shooting, too, all over the bench and stone.

Sire… Who grinned wholeheartedly at seeing his own cum-puddle… Then over his shoulder to admire that bliss plastered over the Youngest’s features. And listening to the sound of suction as that asshole was giving out, releasing droplets after droplets of cum on the ground.

“Not so smug anymore?” asked Razgor, gleefully shaking his posterior despite Drar still inside and that cum still sticking to those cheeks.

Even after our shots, after Drar pulled out, a few droplets clung to Drar’s foreskin. A foreskin Razgor squeezed out with his buttcheeks before he stood up, far steadier.

“So… Much,” mumbled Drar, his eyes rolling and one hand reaching for his face like the Grand Mal had caught him. He was certain he’d chipped one tooth from clenching his jaw too much.

But at the same time? Oh, it’d been worth it. Suddenly, the young Orc was aware of the unknown ache in his nuts, or the pleasure he’d denied himself all his life. He was aware… of how pleasant sex was and how much he wanted it.

Even now… Even in his refractory period, with his cock flopping free from his Sire’s asshole and smacking his aching thighs, Drar knew he needed more.

“So much? I guess you’re giving up?” asked Razgor, standing up and smacking his posterior to make it wobble before he pulled on the cheeks to present the sight of that gaping and crampied asshole, the cum dripping from it.

Far from being done or giving up, Drar’s cock, coated with cum, started to throb and go stiff.

“Giving… up? No,” chuckled Drar, stepping closer despite his aching thighs. “I… need more.”

“More?” asked Razgor, glancing over his shoulder. His amused grin remained as the old Orc turned and faced his own spawn. Once again, their cocks, both, were throbbing and touching… And kissing. Their urethras almost rubbing together, with their semen sticking to the musky flesh.

“More, Razgor,” confirmed Drar, licking his lips. “I need a few more lessons.”

Razgor was gobsmacked for a second. Then he laughed. No, more than that. He gripped his Son by the hips, yanking him closer until their bellies were close together… And their raging boners squeezed in between.

“Moon be my witness! You’ll sire many Sons, Drar!”