FSE

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God I'm hot.

Mnn.

Kinda still weirdly nervous and sweaty in this position, never mind the heat. Feels like we're getting ready for something a lot more than just getting him off.

This is a difficult new day.

I'm kinda worried just how… really good his hands are. Just groping my tits.

Fingers spread deep, wide, these thick greedy hands kneading into my breasts like he's ready to kickstart a brand new bike, take her for a—mngg. Dammit.

Or that's me. Because here I am straddling his lap on the sofa, facing him, stroking off his fat weird pink dick with both hands. Kinda… grinding him against me, too.

Against my underwear. I'm not—mmf—naked. I'm telling myself I'm not doing that. Not totally sure why anymore, but … that's what I'm telling myself.

He's hefting my whole weight, fondling me like this… playing with me. Lifting, squeezing, feeling out how to make me squirm how he likes, figuring out what kinda groping gets what kinda whimpers out of me.

Stroking him like this, he's kinda rubbing directly against where part of me really wants him bad. Like bad. Like I'm trying to stop imagining him peeling my underwear off and just grabbing me tight, stretching me open, driving all the way home into his horny little good girl.

Oh god.

He's looking me in the eye again. Still groping me hard, deep, pinching mfff—pinching me when he's in the mood, but that baggy squint is aimed right back at me, and I know I'm not looking at him that steadily.

Bags under his eyes, and his lids still aren't open all the way, but… seriously intense. Barely blinking. Like I can see all he wants, too.

I'm not convinced I'm still in my right mind.

But he is. He knows what he wants. Doesn't have to lie to himself.

Um… shit.

Guys like that are kinda exactly my type.

I can't hold his gaze like that, shit. Just… stare at his dick some more instead.

God he's hard.

Getting harder to stop thinking about that today. Can't tell if I'm still sleepy, or I'm just way too horny to get back in my right mind.

I'm not in my right mind. No way. I'm way too wet for this.

Kinda worrying thought that I keep thinking about it at all, but if I'm just thinking about it hypothetically… condoms? I have condoms. I've got—hff… got them back at my place. Shit.

Maybe I need to come back to my senses long enough to remember we're waiting on another complete stranger to drop by sometime today between nine and two. A complete stranger for real, this time.

So, starting sixty minutes or whenever ago… any hour now. Can't get too deep into any of this. Could get interrupted any time this morning. Don't wanna get caught compromised.

Kinda.

These repair people never come on the early side anyway, so, um… mmn—no hurry, mostly.

Just make sure my guy here gets his first sticky load for the day out all over me before then.

Fingers are so hot pumping him. Fan blowing right on me but it can't really cool me off anymore. My guy feels even thicker this close to me, throbbing right in front of my stomach.

This position is kinda dangerously good. This is really good. I'm dripping, I swear I can feel it. Swollen and sweaty all over.

Hff—?

He's let go of me. Pulls his meaty hands away, and probably I'm pouting or something before his hands slink underneath my shirt instead, bundling the cotton over his wrists as he raises them again to fondle me directly.

Oh god. Yes. Nnngg—taking care of me his own way.

Taking care of me.

Really feels like that.

And I wanna take care of him. Like really.

First of all like rubbing my gooey fist back down toward his root, swiveling my knuckles all around by his pouch, squeezing him back, coaxing that little bit more pre out his slit. Make sure I'm helping his fat little balls churn up another thick, messy load while we've got the time for it.

Rub my other hand up over his nubs, swipe that pre back down, keep him lubed nice and comfy.

Mmf—

“Make sure it's a big load, come on…."

Mngg.

Didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Thick load for me…."

Hard to think about what I'm saying out loud.

He throbs again, and he catches my fingers tight around him. Suctions to me, makes me hold on nice and firm while he enjoys sticking to me for a couple seconds. God… I really like that.

Peek back up at his gaze, and he's still looking straight back at me.

Like I get the feeling he's not just thinking about my handjob to get him throbbing like this.

Pretty sure his imagination's going on the same track as mine, and, um—

Kinda making me wetter thinking about it like that.

Bite my lip and glance back over toward the hall, toward the corner by the front door. I can't keep his gaze on him that long anymore. His eyes are still weirdly easy to get lost in, but…

Maybe not as easy when all I can think about in them anymore is the roughest sex of my life underneath him.

There's no part of my brain left that can tell me he wouldn't seriously ruin me.

Voice in my brain telling me he should.

And I can't really, um… disagree.

Throbbing. He's throbbing. Oh god, come on. You need to let out a lot, I've got you, come on. Hot and creamy.

Scoot forward over his legs until I've straddled myself directly against his shaft, sitting up straight in his naked furry lap, and I rub him out flat against my stomach. Come on. Ring my thumb and forefinger around his squishy nubs, get them nice and comfy. Stroke his hot dick with my sticky palm against one side, belly on the other.

He's pulsing right over my belly. Right over me. Just inches away from where he could fuck me up. God I want a big load.

Come on, stroke you nice and tight, gimme—

Hngg. And he's squeezing me. Squeezing me really hard—tough to hold back….

Oh god he's bloating. Here he comes.

Rub him out good and slimy, yes—and here's his first ivory rope squirting over my bare stomach, pearly and thick, sticking, not dripping. He snorts, gropes me tight. Warm. Thick. It's really thick.

My nostrils are twitching.

Here's his second shot, and I've got him aimed perfect right over my belly button, dumping his nuts all over me. Little sound of him splotching onto me, the gooey noise of his cream squirting onto my skin. Filthy. It's a lot.

God. The third rope shoots all the way up between my breasts, streaks between them like a long wet yardstick. Still under the rough fuzzy claim of his fists, not letting me go that easy.

So he's got range, too.

He snorts. Squeezes, god, squeezes really good. Really really good. Rough.

Squirts another rope, squirts one more, gets my whole stomach, gets half my ribs really slathered in thick wet jizz before his balls are ever ready to taper off their load.

I can smell him all over me again.

Like he's pumping this feeling straight into my brain that I'm claimed, like I'm just territory marked.

But no no no, that's not true until he's pinned me down and—

Dammit, no.

Never mind. Hff, he likes to touch. Change of track:

One of my hands is stuck to just a few of his bloated nubs, but my other one, I just kinda finger a little glob of his cream onto, just give it a big lick—

Mm. Mff. Mmm, god.

Something seriously wrong with me that I'm straddling my guy thinking yeah, I really need to blow him today. For real. Not even for him, for me. Need a tall glass of this down my throat again.

Terrible voice in my brain whimpering that I really don't want to just help him masturbate. Not just. And I can't stop listening to it.

I'm barely holding back from panting.

It's hot.

Meet his eyes again, and he hasn't stopped looking at me. In me. Breathing heavy, and I know the feeling.

Still holding on to my breasts like they're all his.

I mean… I get the feeling he could make them that pretty easily. Dangerously easy.

His nubs ease up on my fingers. In another second they loosen from me with a sloppy little pop, spit a little extra jizz over my hand.

He pinches me—god, it's for more than just a second—he squeezes me hard between his meaty fingertips, rolls me around, makes me squeak—

Then pops me loose, too. Pats both my tits like with a friendly pat on the back, pulls his hands back out from under my shirt. Still squinting into my eyes. And mine are so weakened.

So my shirt flaps loose and sweaty back over the long, fresh ropes of cum painted underneath. Hiding the guilty, guilty evidence.

I, um…

Need to wash up.

And I guess I need to change shirts again.

But I'm pretty sure I'm out of the clean ones I brought with me.

Inch back from my guest's dick, give him back more of the fan's breeze while I back off, and I kinda barely squeak something out.

“Need to go change…."

Could speak more than five words at a time a couple days ago.

My brain really is turning to mush.

Glance between his face and his still hard dick, and I guess I mutter, “Need to wash up?"

My guy looks back up to me, squinting and studying, but he doesn't move with me as I'm edging back to get up. Just breathing a little hard, still resting up.

No company for me this time. That's his decision, not mine. His right.

But the T.V.'s on behind me, I guess, so as I push back onto hot sticky hardwood, he's got something else to keep him busy while I hope and pray nobody rings the doorbell for just like fifteen more minutes, please, dear god.

Careful. Careful.

Don't want to go too rough, don't wanna, don't—god I wanna lot.

Cool water running down my back, streaming around my waist, dribbling down my fingers. All but my middle and ring—those are busy playing inside, not out.

Something is happening to me. Bad. Can't get back into my right mind, don't know how.

Wanna cum thinking about him cumming inside. Wanna cum. Want him to cum again. Wanna squirt all over his balls, pumping me hot and full, helpless.

Mm!

But don't go too rough, don't… I don't want to climax without him. I guess there's a reason for it I don't wanna think about, but I do not want to cum without him here.

Calm calm calm. Calm down. Slow down, just… slow it down. Mmf. Slower.

All alone in here under the spout, and I still haven't really washed off the cum streaked over my belly. Kinda cradling it away from the water, giving it just one more minute on me, come on. Just to give me that smell. That texture. Gliding my fingertips through it, then nudging them farther down and gooping his jizz around my—

God.

Something is so wrong with me.

It's like something about him is rewiring my brain. I can't stop.

But I've still—I've got other logistics to figure out, shit. Got to figure out, um—already called out of work today to be here for the repairman, but I've got to be back at my office tomorrow, so I've got to head back to my place tonight. Heat wave is still setting the real world boiling outside, so I can't just throw my guest back out on the street, I'm not cruel. I could—

Mm. Mmm. Stop it. Don't cum, not now.

Kinda wondering if he's down to come with me, too.

Check my place out, maybe he could… stay longer. However long he needs. Really, really make himself at home.

Inside me.

One of those fat loads inside me. Extremely deep. The kinda way that sticks forever.

God. Like now my brain keeps telling me how hot it'd be to get really, truly inseminated. Impregnated. Knocked up real easy, way too easy. I couldn't stop him. I don't have the ability.

Um.

Could he—? Could he even?

Um—

Right, right, right, yeah, need to get out of the shower, be back downstairs for the A.C. guy, need to be available. Shit. Dammit.

I need my phone. Need to check on that kinda thing.

Now it's my brain processes circling the drain, and I can't stop it.

Wrench my damn fingers away and actually wash off, for real. Shut the water off, dry off. Get a move on already.

Grab my dry clothes lastly, put my bra and shorts back on for however long their sweaty torture lasts. Actually leave myself presentable again with the plain white tee I borrowed from Daddy's closet. I'll… buy him a new pack later.

More like jog back downstairs than sneaking, but my guy's got the T.V. taking care of him, so I just reeeach over beside him over the back of the sofa for my phone, and I don't know if he looks at me, because I do not meet his eyes right now.

Fingers sweaty again already over the keypad on my screen.

Like, it's actually something someone should know, in general. Don't just rely on what feels like common sense, get a real, actual answer about it.

I'm about to delete this from my search history right after, a hundred percent. Seriously the worst question. But it's better to know.

So—“can pokemon get people pregnant?"

Peek back over toward the sofa one more time while I tiptoe sticky and squeaky into the kitchen, hide a second. Then read.

First result is a message board, exactly my question asked by someone else here. Figures. Whatever. Click the link, here we go. Brace myself.

Top user-voted answer: “stop fucking your pokemon."

Okay, well—

I'm not mad.

But I know I've got a face.

Top reply to that answer is the original poster: “no."

Goddamn this planet.

No, okay, right below that, this answer's long and actually real. I'm reading. Nobody wants to research it, nobody wants to fund the research, contentious ethical debate within the scientific yadda yadda—oh shit.

This internet stranger saying, “—but some researchers have used chromosomal counts to suggest that, at least potentially, humans could be genetically compatible with some or even most pokemon. There's no documented cases of any human woman (or human transgender man) conceiving a pokemon or laying an egg, but on the other hand, who would come forward explaining publicly that a pokemon knocked them up?"

Oh hell.

The best they can end all that with is “aw shucks, maybe"?

I read all that, and I can feel some last ditch effort from my gut telling me that this should be enough to make me stop—

But there's only one voice in my brain I can hear, and it's whispering me closer and closer to some kinda thought I don't think I can turn back from once I get to it.

Kinda clutching my knees together?

Oh.

I'm wet again.

Kinda breathing fast.

My lips are dry.

Pretty sure two or three days ago I was specifically not into pokemon. Especially the Hypno ones.

I think I'm… concerned.

Oh god.

He's looking at me.

Catch him in the corner of my eye and here he is, slinked up into the kitchen beside me, silent, hunched over and squinting straight into my eyes and I can't blink. I can't—I don't know what.

He's hard.

He's so hard.

Dick throbbing inches away from me again already, ready to go. Pink and sticky, slick.

Look back up to his gaze, and he's looking at my phone. I, um—

He looks back to me.

Lifts one meaty hand, splays all his long fat fingers, and they come around my phone. He takes it. Silently, deliberately lifts it out from my paralyzed fingers, turns, sets it somewhere behind him. Away from me.

And with a hunch in his spine that really shouldn't make him look that tall, looks back to me. Right into me.

Throbs.

He sets both his heavy hands on my shoulders, and all the nerves under my skin are on fire, and he swivels me. Directs me toward the kitchen island, the bare countertop.

Bends me.

I can't stop him. I can't blink.

Lay on my hands and elbows on the granite, and I swear to god my feet are squeaking farther apart from each other inch by inch, and I'm the one doing this. Staring at my hands as they bundle into fists in front of me. Sweating. I'm dripping.

Thick fingers brushing around thuh—the front of my shorts. Tugging the ties loose. Tugging them down my thighs, all the way, and they pool at my heels.

He steps up right behind me, and I can't say a word.

He squeezes his dick between my legs.

But my underwear stays on.

And his hands come down to my thighs, and he motions my legs back tighter around him, not spread.

I whimper.

I didn't mean to.

He twitches against my bare legs and right beneath the cotton keeping him from rubbing me directly, like I'm about ready to break down and just beg him to—no, no, no, come on, keep it together, don't—

He's grinding right into my thigh gap. He's grinding against me. Fucking going for it.

God he's hot. Big. Hard. Hot.

He would be good inside. I know it. He'd be really good inside me, if he just—he has me right where he wants me, he could just—come on, just slip one fat finger around the elastic and drag my last defense out of the—

God.

Oh god.

Almost grinding right against my clit, so close to just—

Why can't I stoppp.

I just want him to fuck me into a sobbing blubbering useless mess.

Dig my own face into the crook of my elbows and I can't pretend I'm not moaning. All I can do is cover just how red my cheeks are getting, try to cover up just how bad I wanna get fucking wrecked.

He snorts. Grabs one of my wrists—no, come onnn, at least let me hide my face—but he grabs it and tugs it back down with him, forces my hand into position by—

He's fucking right into my palm. Smacking that sticky flat tip straight against my skin, fucking my hand again, and I know he's gonna make me take every fat drop again, I couldn't ever stop him.

Virile.

Cushy, virile jizz.

Hot, thick, creamy sperm swimming around in my defenseless womb, plugged up airtight, no chance at not getting knocked up as every long, thick rope squirts straight inside me.

Helpless.

Once he's bloated, balls deep, I'm done for. No going back.

So easy for him. I'm so easily trained.

I can't tell anymore if I'm moaning or panting or what, just—some kinda wet noises melting off my tongue and I can't hide what they mean. Sound like I'm in heat.

Sound like a horny little kitten mewling for him.

I wanna cum all over his fat dick. I wanna cum. Want him to cum. Want him to cum inside. Wanna cum. Want his dick.

Can feel him hammering into my palm, smacking me like he's really gonna fill me up. Fat fuzzy hands on my hips, holding on. Grinding. Thrusting.

“Cuh—"

Don't say it. Don't actually say it. Come on, please, don't—

“Cum insuh—"

But I want it.

Leaking my own drool over the granite and I can't figure out what my tongue's doing anymore. Can't think straight. Shouldn't think straight, no need….

“Cum—cummm insi—"

I freeze.

He stops thrusting.

The doorbell's chiming off.

Right FUCKING now the doorbell's chiming off, and I push back up to my elbows and look back over my shoulder, and he's looking back the same, off toward the front door.

I'm about to open the door and strangle that repairman's goddamn—

Oh.

Okay, my real guest is thrusting again. Harder and faster. Throbbing. He's gonna finish first.

Gasp my breath back in and bite my lip, and just—hold my hand in place for him, get ready to clench him tight and full.

Come on. Goddammit. Come on, just—fuck my hand full, hurry.

God, he's still so warm.

Hurry, come on.

Doorbell chimes off again, and I've got a Hypno fucking my thighs while I'm about to catch a fistful of his jizz, and I yell breathless back out the kitchen, “Gimme a minute!"

The guy with more of my attention snorts from just behind me.

Ah.

Tensing up. Throbbing. He's cumming.

Mm.

Smooshes his dick flat against my palm, and he bloats up against me, seals me up. My own hand dangling hot and wet in front of my legs, and I feel his shaft thicken even more between me for his cum welling through it, feel the first rope squirt wet and unprotected into my makeshift cumdump, inseminated.

Lay my face back in my elbow and just—

I can't pull my hand away. Spurt after spurt, thick and heavy, squirted right into me, and I'm trapped down here just taking it. However thick his load is this time, like it or not, I'm just gonna take it. Every drop.

This is seriously how it's gonna feel.

God. Goddammit.

I want him to cum inside so bad.

But I need him to hurry, he's gotta… finish up, right. Come on, gimme.

Feels like my hand is getting full again. But he's still shooting. I still can't hold it all.

The seal pops. The next gooey squirt bubbles right down between my index and middle fingers, leaks really thick all of a sudden when there's no more suction keeping his jizz contained.

I'm dribbling him everywhere. Not enough room to hold his whole load. Fresh semen leaking down my fingers, and his warm shaft keeps twitching between them.

Wait. My hand's free now.

Kinda push back to standing straight a little faster than might be sexy, and just kinda—gently nudge out from underneath my Hypno guy and wrangle my shorts back up over my knees with my clean hand, patter over all hot and sticky to the sink, seriously wash off as fast as I—

Fast and heavy knock I hear echo from the door, not the kinda knock of someone who's waiting around long for someone to answer.

“Coming!"

Or I could have been. Jackass.

Snatch a paper towel to dry my hands and turn back around to my Hypno guy, and he's still squinting my way with that look in his eyes, that bent in his posture that all I can think about is that I should seriously still be underneath him. This is ridiculous.

His hardon's still rigid. Dripping. Big, hot, still needs something nuzzled around it.

Makes me really wanna—

Goddammit, I just raise both my damp hands flat and motion at him, lower my voice. “Just chill here for one second. I will be right back."

Tie the knot of my shorts again as I jog to the front door, and I have to tell myself not to scowl this much as I yank the handle open.

There's another guy on the front porch, finally. Little lighter than me, but my height. Clean shaven, overalls, one hand around his toolbox and the other in his pocket.

Same kinda frown on him as I've got, I guess.

He says first, “Your air conditioner on the fritz?"

Temper my tone much as I can, but I mutter, “Got it in one."

Maybe a little harsh.

Push off from the door to make room for him, and I tell him, “That big A.C. box thing is on our roof, this way."

The guy just breathes in, says, “First thing I need to see is the breakers. Those should be in your basement."

Purse my lips.

Don't bother with a goddamn word.

Just turn down the hall to show him the stairs to the basement, fine, and now I hear those footsteps following me, echoing heavy through the hardwood just from the size of his boots. How's he even wearing boots in this weather?

Swing the door downstairs open, and I step aside rather than lead him down. He steps up to the threshold, jingles his keys in his pocket, just stares down a second while chewing his cheek or something, breathes loud through his nose.

They're stairs, my dude. Just walk down them.

Flip the lightswitch for him just to be extra generous, and I tell him, “I'll be up here if you need me. You need me?"

He jingles his keys again, glances vaguely my way. Not lecherously. I'm just a jackass customer, and he's just a jackass… in general.

He can't be suspicious, right? No way. No shit I'm hot and sweaty, dude. Heat wave. My excuse is impenetrable.

Oh shit.

Does he smell anything? Do I smell like cum?

Do I actually, really have the scent of being marked, or something?

But he just looks back down the stairwell after a second. Breathes in deep, breathes out quick.

“I'll let you know."

He lifts his hand out from his pocket to balance against the wall, and takes his first clomp downstairs, one step at a time.

He's two steps down before I have already swiveled myself on one heel directly back toward the kitchen.

Still got something very important to finish up before—

Oh thank god.

My Hypno guy is still here right by the kitchen threshold, one hand on the frame, eyes tracking mine the instant I'm back, and he's still mostly hard.

Looking me right in the eye, and a second later I'm not even really thinking about it as the first thing I do back out of view from the stairs is fall to my knees and suck. Suck him clean, wipe up all this mess I made with the rag of my tongue.

Mmm.

He kinda shivers at my first kiss, and right right right, gentle with the tip—he's still sensitive. Lap over the shaft, kiss away the spill that leaked farther down. Wrap my hand around his thick root to steady him, and gentle, sweetly—give him back those little kitten licks, lap away all this thick juicy cum I need to clean up.

His hand comes around to my cheek, caressing me back, mm… encouraging me. I'm very encouraged. Both his hands find me. Pet me, keep me down here, tell me I don't ever need to stop.

Tastes so good. Really glad he'll still let me down here while his stamina's recovering….

Maybe I can get him ready again? For real? So soon, but come on, we got interrupted. Need a do-over.

Think I can do that.

Maybe still a little sensitive, but pull my lips back to his big flat tip, curl my face around him, take a quick breath. Glide him down right against the edge of my throat, and—mm! Mm. Pop him deep.

Stay right here and stare back up in those eyes, check with him to make sure his little fuckpet's doing a good job.

He's still looking down at me without breaking his gaze. In control. Stroking the tips of my hair, my jaw. His whole face set stoic, or subtle, or something I still can't read. I don't need to read. Not my place to.

All the white fluff around his neck looks even fluffier, more inviting from down here. Make him look bigger. And—his pendulum's catching the light again, shining over me. So pretty.

He makes me feel so nice like this.

And he's still really slimy, lubed up. Little dregs of his jizz still coating the wrinkles I'm slurping down. So easy to just slide him down my gullet. Comfy.

I'm really glad he likes my throat rippling around his dick.

I really like him in here.

Floor is kinda rough on my knees without a cushion down here under me, but—god. It just doesn't matter. It seriously doesn't. Why am I bringing it up at all?

Glkk.

Mm. Okay, pull back slowly, let him—mm, pop free. But keep him in my mouth, slurp around the middle of his shaft, don't get him too messy. I'm cleaning. Don't get sloppy on him now. Slurp him clean, swallow it all down. No excuses.

Just kinda wanna… feel his balls again, too. Kinda drift my free hand underneath while I lick, give him a careful squeeze.

Oh god. They've both still so heavy, dense. He's got a lot left.

He's got a lot left. What the hell.

He can seriously still fill me to the brim.

Am I trembling? I'm soaked. Dripping and sweaty. If I invite this guy back to my place when we're done here, I don't—I can't ever leave him. He's gonna have me. I don't know what kind of my own thinking I could do anymore, if I'd really count as the same person.

I'm just listening to this voice in my brain telling me all that, and it's soothing, and I'm listening, and it just sounds… nice. It sounds really good. Sounds right.

Fuzzy, beefy fingers on my cheek, flexing over my skin, getting less gentle with me.

Yeah. Take him back down. Get him ready, throat him longer this time. Get my tongue tickling his balls. No excuses.

Line him up, suck him down, pop him—mm! Mm… yeah. I could—

“Well, the breaker wasn't tripped, so I need to check your disconnect."

Fhrrk—! FUCK that guy.

The sound of boots clomping back up the stairs from somewhere that same direction as the guy's voice, and now I've got to pop my main man back out of my throat when—mm!—he should be inside it forever. Wipe my mouth dry, and—

Actually, my Hypno guy keeps his hands on me, holding me down here. Doesn't really let me go. Not really in the mood for me to get up.

So… I stay down here a second. Wrap my fist back around his shaft, just… stroke him back forth a little, slow and quiet.

Part of one wall between us and some dude neither of us know, while I keep stroking my own dude back to a fuller mast. Kinda… damn.

Take a deep breath, just turn my head back toward the doorway, call, “Check my what?"

I can hear the long, heavy goddamn sigh the repairguy makes. Like what he really wants is for me to hear that. But I don't hear him clomping over to me. This isn't too risky yet.

“Your disconnect's going to be on the roof, with your blower."

Can feel my eyes bulge while I'm licking over my guy's tip.

“My excuse me?"

“Your fan. Your big air conditioner box thing. That thing. You got a hatch up to the roof in this place?"

“Yeah, upstairs, by the—you saw the stairs going up? It's up those."

He really was a jackass over the phone. I don't need to play him the good host.

One big furry hand shifts to the back of my head about now. Draws me lower down, presses me right underneath between his legs. Aims my whole face at his balls. Gotcha….

There's some boot-scuffing from the hallway, a couple tentative clomps, and the rattle of a toolbox, and finally I hear heavy padded steps up the carpet of the stairs. No response. That guy's just getting to it.

Damn.

It really is still boiling in here.

Curl my lips around my guy's whole sac, make sure I—hell yeah. Hell yes. Hell yes.

Suck every juicy, fuzzy inch into my cheeks, give both his sweaty, scratchy balls another wash in my mouth. They deserve it. They earned it, over and over.

Mostly looking forward to air conditioning again so that this guy will be the one comfortable. Help him cool off in here, make everything comfortable for him. That's a promise.

Nobody to interrupt me right now as I gargle him one more time, swish my spit around all over him, smear my own face dirtier with the little strands of jizz and drool I didn't do a good enough job sucking away.

No need to talk now. Just to suck. Just to make it clearer and clearer that making him feel right is my only priority. Only. Anything that makes him feel better, I've got to do it. I have to. It doesn't even matter anymore if I want to or not, I have to. I have to.

One more snort above me. Another meaty hand meets the back of my head, both of them holding on tight enough that it feels like he's using me to steady himself.

Is this good? Does he want it dirtier? Cleaner? Sloppier?

If he could just speak, I'd never have to think for myself again. Just follow orders. Whatever he tells me, just do it. Instantly. Throw myself down his dick with the snap of his fingers, choke myself til he says I'm allowed to take a couple breaths, plunge back down again, gag on his slimy, wrinkly pouch til my eyes are rolling back up past his.

Right now, just… slop his heavy balls around in my cheeks. Then wipe them down, rub the thick of my tongue over his seam, suck away my mess. Swallow.

Where does he wanna blow this time…?

Those hands laid on me quit holding tight—they tug me back. Change of plan.

He yanks me loose from his sac with a pop and a big couple ropes of spit left dangling shiny between us, and those snap just as quick, recoil straight down over my chin.

He holds me far back enough again that I get to look groggily back up at him, and I try not to blink. I pant, but he's—his chest is really going. Heavy breathing. Looking down at me and all I can tell is that there's definitely a look in his eyes, whatever it is he wants.

“Where do you wanna…?"

Don't need to finish the thought. He reaches down for my wrists, pulls me up higher on my knees, pulls me to my feet until his dick, thick, slimy, shiny, is wobbling right below my groin. Extremely ready.

Oh god. Whatever he wants, I'll do it. He can just do it. Anything. I won't—

But only one hand stays on my wrist, and instead of positioning me, he walks. He just holds on, leads me.

Back into the family room. The sofa.

Breathing heavy, no shit. He slinks right back around the corner of the sectional, pulling my pitiful self along for the risk, and just as erect as it takes to be seen, he plops right back down in his middle seat, right in the flow of the fan.

Don't have any strength left in my body to make my own way. I just… this is kinda too much.

But he pulls me toward my seat in the corner, and I can't do anything but sit down next to him, let him drag my hand back around his shaft.

Deep breath, and this time he closes his eyes a long second, takes the cool air back in.

I just—I stroke him off right here, I'm not just gonna stop. I won't stop. But my gaze is darting between his relaxed face and the goddamn stairs, just in view from here.

Did I already hear the repairman clattering open the hatch? I don't—god, I don't know.

It's okay, it's fine, it's okay. Even when he comes back downstairs, he won't be able to see too much from the stairwell, just… he'll only be able to see either of our upper bodies. Unless he comes in here to talk more. Fucking classic.

Am I seriously going to—?

Well… yeah.

I'm not just gonna stop.

Wrap my fingers closer around my guy's root and lean in deep, wrap my lips around his tip. Throat him again. Now.

Mllrk.

Get him there. Get him to cum. No excuses.

Warm, fuzzy hand closes back over my neck, petting me slow.

I'm doing good… I'm being good. Just get him there. Only priority.

Pull him back out my throat gently, gentle as I can, just take a quick breath. Take another—hrrk—plunge. Kiss the ring of my fingers around his root, and—let my hand fall away. Kiss his pouch directly. Tongue his musky wrinkles hello, wriggle my tongue inside just a little bit.

Pull back out slow, just slow enough not to gag, not to cough. Quick breath. Take another—glrff.

Long, fat fingers stroking my nape, and it really is okay. I'm okay.

Is that seriously calming me down…? That's weird. But I'm glad. It makes me happy.

Pull back… breathe… plunge.

Glrkk.

And gives his balls another little kitten lick from here, how much of them I can reach.

I wish I could get louder for him. He can facefuck me after that guy leaves, he knows that, right? However he wants to use me. It's up to him. I don't have a say.

If that guy wasn't here, would my guy already be bending me over again…?

Curl my face back a little bit, just enough to get a simpering look up, see if he's watching me. Oh, I'm—tearing up. Kinda blurry. But—I can still see him. He sees me. He's watching, squinting deep at me. That look in his eyes, won't let me stop.

I'm really glad.

Pull back and breathe, deep breath through my nose, and this time take him harder—

Clomping.

Boots clomping down the stairs.

Half my brain ready to fucking curse and the other half raising me back into a regular sit, wiping my jaw, telling me to breathe, no shit, just breathe. At a normal pace. Calm.

“You got a blown fuse," repairguy calls down before I see him shuffling downstairs into my own view, boots first, one step at a time. “Easy fix. Got a new one in my truck. You're lucky wasn't something I need to order, because I can't keep every piece of equipment I might need in my truck—"

I watch him very normally as the guy steps back down into mutual eyesight, and he's staring between me and my real, actual guest, who's—

Oh. Who's also looking at the repairman.

So the repairman glances between either of us, and he can't see what's going on, no matter what it looks like. It doesn't look like anything.

He has no reason to come in here with us. He wouldn't. He won't. Maintain the uncomfortable stare, and that will make him go away.

Please don't come in here. God, please.

Repairman clomps back down into the hall proper. Not moving toward us, not moving toward the door. Just scratches his nose, scratches his neck.

“Well. Won't know if it's just a fuse until I get the new one installed, anyway. Then we'll see if the unit gets to running."

Just stare.

“Okay."

“And your filter is getting close to needing replacing, so I'm replacing that now, too. Putting an additional charge for that," he says.

“Okay," I say.

Glances between either of us again, halfcocked gaze lingering on my Hypno guy, and the repairman rolls his eyes. Turns toward the door, finally, clomps his way back out to his truck or where the fuck ever, out of sight.

I hear the door creak back open, hear the clomps fading back outside. Don't hear the door close.

Both furry hands come over my head, or my shoulder, or somewhere holding me tight.

Okay, really fast, quick breath—hlkk.

Hold it. Just hold it. Don't want him flaring up on me right now, so keep it to a minimum before we're back alone. Can almost suck a fresh breath through my nostrils, but—glk—not quite. It's okay. Just hold it down.

Mm, he's twitching. I'm a good little fuckpet. Yeah, he's throbbing. Mm.

Bloating. He's bloating, oh god, not—

Mm.

I'm stuck.

Mm?

Yeah. Extremely sealed around his dick again. Okay. Okay.

Just keep it down. Be a good girl. This is what you're here for, no excuses. Make it good for him, just let your throat keep swallowing around him like this.

But there's still a kinda panic rising like bile in my stomach. Even if I'm not immediately visible down here with my face in his lap, it's a pretty obvious sight if that guy walks in and just—

Oh my god. Bootsteps. Already.

Come on, no. Not yet. Please!

I can fucking hear the bootsteps coming closer just outside, and I'm still reflexively gulping spit and pre down my gullet like my body's trying to gasp one more breath just out of reach.

Deepthroating a Hypno. Eagerly, sloppily.

Mm.

I'm still sealed. I'm still down here, soaking his shaft in the convulsions of my pharynx. Fuzzy fingers on top still petting me all over, one set stroking over my nape like I'm seriously just… a kitten in his lap.

God… yeah, okay, anything he wants. Doesn't matter. I'm just here for him.

But the bootsteps—

Mm. Loosening?

Mm. Glp—hrkk!

Rip myself free from his dick to a ramrod straight sit, gasping already into my goddamn wrist as I swipe it hard over my mouth. Breathe. Quietly. Slower.

My guy's still watching me. The whole time. His eyes over my mouth, panting, to over my breasts, kinda pounding over my heart, to way lower down.

And as bootsteps creak back over the hardwood just in the hall, my Hypno guy slips his hand firmly over my bare, sweaty thigh. Squeezing.

Deep nasal breath from the hall, and I try holding my own as the repairguy comes back in view, big flat filter and stuff under one arm. He wipes his forehead with his sleeve.

“Give me a few minutes with these, and your unit should probably be all back in order. We'll find out."

He gives me a look. Like a quick look up and down of what he can see, not just for if I heard him or not.

It's both me and my guy giving him a look back.

Deep breath, and I just say very normally, “Appreciate it."

Look, just don't come in here. Please. Just go upstairs, fix the thing.

Ooh.

Really squeezing my thigh. One thick finger rubbing under the cuff of my shorts. Feeling me up.

The repairguy sniffs, glances between either of us, turns back for the stairs. Shuffles one boot up at a time, free hand on the wall. Gives us one more look while he can.

And another toasty finger squeezes—squeezes under my shorts.

Trying not to flinch. Really trying.

And the repairguy's out of sight. Breathe out slowly, shivery. Deep sigh….

My guy looks back at me again.

And his other hand comes over my clothes. My shorts. The ties. He grabs the end of one, tugs it loose. Tugs me loose.

Slithers all those fat fingers under the hem. God. Um. Skipping my underwear, going under that too.

Going—

Yeah he's already squeezing one thick furry finger inside me. Never had—oh god that tickles, there's soft little hairs all over, all over, but it—fuzzy and weird, like a—I don't know like what.

He's inside me for real. Can't tell myself it doesn't feel… right. Really good. He's—wriggling, flexing, I'm squeezing around his knuckles. Fat fingers. He's thick. Oh god.

My eyes feeling weak again and all they can look up at are his, and he's—he won't look away. Won't let me get away. I can't get away.

Up at his…?

Oh… I'm laying flatter. Kinda pushed back into my corner, down into it. Feel his knees squeezing up around either of my shins. Climbing over me? He's above me. Looking at me.

Squirming around thick inside me and I can't—I don't have a brain cell left that can tell me I'm not his to squirm around in. His. Not my own.

I'm curled down into the corner for real and it's hard to tell if I'm breathing right. Panting…? That came quick.

God he's curling, he's the one curling, mmmoh god please—

His other hand in my face. On my jaw… prodding his thumb over my open lips. Looking me straight in the eye, fat, fuzzy finger stroking my mouth. Pushing inside it.

Close my lips around him because I know I should. He wants me to. I want to.

He pops the first knuckle of his thumb through my lips, and my tongue's already on it. Under it. Sucking like a meek girl right here, lapping, burning up. Mewling…? Not yet.

And his finger is fucking me. Thick. Warm. I'm so glad. He's so—I'm so glad he wants to. He's nnnn—oh god. God. Oh fuck. Shit, come on, I can last longer than this—god, oh please, oh god, I can't—

I can't—

Don't moan don't moan don't moan please hold it in don't—

Cumming. Cumming on him. I'm cumming I'm cumming he's making me I can't stop I'm cum'n I can't—finger tastes good, oh—

Hmnnn. Mn. Mng.

Oh god.

Why's he so thick. Just his fingers.

Mm.

Oh—god.

Hah.

Oh god.

God….

Takes… it takes another second before I can let my toes stop clenching, consciously. But I think my eyes are still shaking. Hard to… I don't know. Bleary filter in front of me.

I came too hard from just that. I… that was way too easy.

Whatever's happening to me, I think I'm pretty far gone.

But I can keep going. Forever.

Mm! Oh fuck. Pulling his other finger out, mm. God. Shit. Okay. I'm still here.

Blinking back the stuff in front of my eyes, and I can see his again. Same squint. He never looked away. He saw me start to finish, everything.

Just now he pulls his finger out from my lips. Slow and easy. Wet. I'm still—I'm sucking it right up until he pops it out, newly stringy with the drool off my tongue.

Didn't think any finger covered in fuzz could still taste… really good. Really good.

Repairguy didn't even interrupt this time. Finally.

But I lift my weary head a little, and I can see my guy still has a full and twitching mast in dire, dire, dire need of attention. Throbbing. Way thicker than fingers. I've got to do anything he wants. Whatever he wants, it doesn't matter. Stick it anywhere.

Push my elbows back against the sofa corner, lift myself up a little more fully, and my hunched, squinting, throbbing guest pulls back to give me the room for that. Oh, we're gonna—

No way. That sound. For real?

It's the air conditioner, thrumming back to life all throughout the house. Back to life. Holy shit, it's real. It's kinda… loud, after a while of not hearing it.

And in this ridiculously cool relief, the first thing the two of us right here are gonna do—is listen to boots clomping back down the stairs, one step at a time. Fine. This time, it's fine.

Wait. Fuses. Shouldn't he have cut the breaker before messing with fuses…?

Not my business. He's still alive.

“You're welcome," dude says just stepping down into view, dirty old filter under the crook of the arm he's not using to steady himself along the wall. “Should get bearable in here pretty quick. Replaced the filter, too, so you won't have to keep that on your mind."

Just don't come into the living room. All that matters about you. Just don't.

Me and my guy watching from over the back of the sofa as the repairguy steps back onto this floor, wiping his brow, setting the old filter down, pulling a tiny clipboard out from his work bag.

“Nice to have an easy fix for once…" he mutters, scribbling on his board. He looks up just a second, eyeing my guy and then me. “You writing a check now, or should I just leave the bill?"

Only just starting to get impatient, I swear.

“I'm housesitting for my folks. Leave the bill."

Repairguy shrugs, scribbles some more. Rips off the top sheet of paper from his thing.

And fucking walks toward me with it oh no he doesn't—

“Okay, thanks, just leave it—leave it on the little table by the door, thanks! Thanks. Appreciate the fix."

Stops in his tracks, thank god, giving me a blank look like he still doesn't like me but doesn't care. Turns for the door, clomps over around the corner in the hall.

“Just leaving it on this table, then."

I hear the door creaking shut again, finally, but not before one more thing from the guy:

“You two take it easy."

Did he—?

Doesn't matter.

Door clicks shut, and we're all alone again. Just the two of us.

I'm still dripping wet. And my guy's dick has not taken a break from waiting to stuff me. Fill me full.

Staring down at him. Watching him twitch again, throb upward. Still slick from me throating the whole meaty thing.

Only look up again when a thick, fuzzy finger slides back against my lips. Parts them. Presses inside. Makes me suck, and… I do.

Looking back into his eyes and I can't look away again. Can still see him throbbing in my peripheral vision, but I can't get away from his eyes bearing into mine.

Like right this moment, it's the brunt of the thought hitting me that his next load is probably going into me for real. Inside me.

Not that I want to, but… I don't think I'm getting out of this one.

Sucking down his fat finger with a look on my face I know isn't right, and it doesn't really feel like I have a say in what kinda person he's gonna turn me into.

Just for a second he pops his finger loose again, lets me gasp my own heavy air. I know I'm toast. I'm already gone, and I don't know if he's ever gonna let me come back.

But I say, as much as I can without rasping it, “Be more comfortable upstairs, now. The bed…."

Yeah. The bed.

At least suggest a place of my own choosing where he's gonna take me over forever.

How'd I even get it into my head that this is such a big thing…? I just know it is. I don't know how.

I don't even know how I stumble up here with him. In a total haze.

God, the air feels so good….

My back pressing into the sheets below us, wrists sliding up under the pillow, open, vulnerable. My guy above me with the meaty curves in his belly, his shoulders, built for weighing somebody down deep beneath him.

I'm his somebody. God. He's gonna wreck me.

I'm psyched up for creampie sex with a Hypno. There's, uh… no going back from that.

Looking up into his eyes that I can't read, and I get the feeling if I don't back out of this now, I can't ever back out of it. Like I'm really giving myself up. Like it's my gut's last ditch effort to tell me something's up in a bad way. Don't. It's the last little voice I hear from myself in my brain.

But I can't.

I really need to let him fuck me up, inside out.

Flinch as I feel cooled hands on my hips, brushing under the hem of my shorts, tugging them down. Exposing me.

Mm.

Biting back a sudden breath.

His deep, baggy squint turns next to his treasure, like he's peering right through my underwear, black and silken, still soaked.

The little strength I have left in my body I use for lifting my ankles, let him get my shorts really out of the way. Reach my own hands slowly back to my shirt, slide it off myself for him. All for him.

Pull it off from around my face, my hair, and first thing I see again is him looking.

You like it, guy? That kinda bra I saw you admiring. Soft dark cups laced in the silhouettes of roses, sexy in the kinda way that's all for you. I get mine sized professionally.

He likes to touch, so—mmf. He grabs. Gives me one big squeeze, sustained.

Bite it back. Hold it back. Hold it in right now.

Just a whisper, but…

“Fh—fits me pretty good, right?"

Like how you're gonna make me fit you perfect.

All up to him now. However he wants me… that's what's gonna happen.

He meets my gaze again. Squeezes a second more, lets go. And his big meaty hands pull back down to under my thighs. Gets his thick grip around them, and he lifts my legs higher. Wider.

Spreads me.

Still kinda sweating down every inch of my body here.

Two fingers he spends slipping my underwear a couple inches up my thighs, out of the way of my pussy, and he's been throbbing this whole time. He angles—hnff, god—directly in position for his first thrust.

I'm sprawled and spread below him, lined up for him like a fucktoy, and he's so heavy. I can't get out from under him. No condom—he's going raw. I don't have a pill, I don't have anything.

The only voice in my brain is telling me this is just how he likes it. And so this is how we need to do it. And I can't stop him.

I can't stop him.

I can't stop him.

Oh god.

And he's pushing in slow.

Oh god he's going in. He's—thick. He's thick.

Mm.

Spreading me open to my core and I can't keep my lips shut either. Mewling. I'm—it's my eyes I can barely keep open.

His fur is still hot, sweaty. Lowering his belly over mine, weighing me down, pushing deeper, deeper deeper deeper. Not gonna stop til he's bottomed out. Pulling his hands back off my breasts up to my wrists, holding me back. Holding me down. My fingers are all twitching, grasping, and they can't do anything. I'm trapped.

He's thick.

He's—

Mmf….

Balls are so heavy. Smooshing against my skin, resting on me.

He's bottomed out.

I feel right. I'm doing… right. Filled up. Deep dicked, balls deep.

Balls deep inside me. I love that phrase. I love that, holy shit. He's stretching me out, making me fit him. And he should be.

Plowed himself inside and holding long enough for me to get the true realization of just how full of him I am.

Hypno dick is… really good. It's really really good. I'm way out of my league.

Kinda gaze back up at him, what attention I can muster… and he's looking me in the eye. Not looking away.

Little glimmer of that pendulum hanging over his white fluff, and… I feel good here.

And he slides slow, slow, slow back out, drags my hips with him like I'm whimpering, don't want him to go. Please don't. Please keep me. I'll beg, please. Make me. Please make me.

He's pulled back within the first inch of me, back to the point of plunging, and please, please make me take it. Gimme. I want to be good—

Ah.

Full plunge.

“Hhh—ah!"

Oh god all the way at once thank you oh shit he's so thick I love him.

Plowing me. Finished being gentle so soon, pulling back and fucking me big now, deep thrusts, rough, no asking me, just taking me.

Spanking my ass every thrust with those scratchy heavy fuzzy packed balls like I've been a bad girl, not gonna learn my lesson without some bad red bruises on my butt, I swear I feel it happening.

Swear the neighbors are gonna hear me through the walls wailing and moaning so bad.

But I can't help it because he kept me waiting so longgg to get claimed.

Plugging his dick deep inside me like he's got to teach me exactly what my pussy's good for and it's good for nothing else, just him. Fuck me hard.

“More, keep going, more, please, mm—! Mnh. Ah—!"

Pulling out and plowing back inside every second. Hard and fast. This is way too good.

I think he wants to keep me. Think he's gonna keep me.

Prove I'm worth keeping, just… give him everything.

Nnh. Prove something. Nuh, ooh. Mm.

Hard and fast. It's really good.

Wrap my legs and my curled sweaty toes around his waist, beg him beg him beg him for the biggest load of his nuts as deep as he can flood me. Knock me up. Don't let me get away. Please, please, make me take it. Don't give me the choice. He deserves taking it, I want him to, so much.

Mmf.

My wrists are sweating under his hands, might be losing the feeling in my fingers. Mm. I'm seriously trapped. He's gonna knock me up. Can't stop him. He's gonna cum inside and his load's gonna go wild swimming inside me. I'm actually helpless.

He's breeding me.

Oh god. Please breed me. Knock me up. Breed me. Every thick creamy virile drop right where I'm vulnerable, impregnate me. I can't stop you. I do want it. I want it so bad. Don't let me think on my own anymore. I wanna be a semen addict, shoot me up. Get me.

Ah—god.

His dick is turning my brain inside out and that's literally what I'm thinking right now. And I love it.

The tips of my fingers are shaking.

Ooh. No-fair good.

Can't go back. My brain's getting retrained on this.

Oh. Mm. Throbbing. Sealing me up a second, oh god—bigger. Little nubs swelling really deep, I feel it, not gonna let me ignore feeling every little nub pudging up and stretching me even wider that deep. I promise I feel it, every nub. He's gonna—

Wait. Yes. Can't spill any. God, yes. He's not gonna let me spill one drop of his sperm. My womb's getting all of it.

Hah. Loosening up, he's pulling back—

Mmh! Mm.

Plunged back inside me in one go. I'm just a fucktoy.

“Keep going mmf please keep going please just don't stop please keep going…."

Think he's—it's getting harder to see again, tears in my way. His face is getting blurry. I feel one furry hand coming off my wrist, and he's sinking his fat fingers back around my breast, kneading me. Squeezing my bra up off from its perch, getting a genuine handful of my sensitive nerves. Groping the wettest whimpers back out of me. Taking more of his territory. Still using me for—

Hah. Mnh.

Using me for support while he fucks me to his root, plows me.

Melting me into whoever he wants. His dick is—ah. I'm gonna cum. It's coming. I'm cumming. I didn't wanna cum before him, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm gonna—he's not gonna slow down, oh god—I—

I can't—

Ah.

Ah! Mmf. God, he won't—mmmmmm. Mm.

Too much. I can't—hnn. Don't have—he's too deep. He's deep. He's deep. I'm still cum'n I can't st'p fuck me god help me it's a lot ah fuck I can't stop mmf he won't stop he's balls deep I wannim cum inside me breed me please breed me please don't stop I can't—I can't—I can't—nnh. Nnh. Can't stop cumming. Cn't stop I'm still cum'n i cn't thihnk

cn't

hnnh

nn mmmm

unh

ah

ah.

Ah. Nn. Oh god.

Everything's shaking.

I can see him.

I'm staring.

He won't look away from me. And I—I can't even close my eyes. Just staring back up.

Slowed his thrusting. Balls still smacking into—nnh—me. Won't quit, I'm still—hnnuh—sensitive, he won't stop. I don't—want him to.

I can't move…? I can't.

Both his hands off my wrists, using both my tits for leverage against his shallow, deepest thrusts, fucking around inside me where anyone else's raw dick doesn't belong. I'm out of strength. Can't even—oh… my legs are already limp. Already fallen numb around his fat plush thighs and now they're bouncing with his thrusts.

One hand comes back to my thigh, and with the next thrust he lifts my ass higher up into the air with him, like he's—nn. He's fucking straight down into me.

And he's throbbing…?

He's cumming.

His hips sledging over top mine, flat against me, heavy. Balls deep. Heavy and full.

“Inside inside inside inside inside mmmg god balls deep big load please…."

Throbbing. He's throbbing, bloating up, sealing me airtight. God. Welled up even thicker again inside me. He's—he's cumming.

He's cumming.

I can feel the first deep wet squirt pulsing clean inside. It's hot, it's… I can feel it. Raw, thick, virile baby batter squirting directly where I need it. Halfway locked into a mating press so that even gravity's making sure I get knocked up.

Either I can't breathe or I can't stop whimpering gibberish to him….

I can feel it. Every meaty twitch. Thick. Heavy. Sensitive, I'm still—he's extremely thick. I can feel every long creamy rope I'm milking out of him, forced to. Getting more sure with every gooey squirt that I can feel his tiny, virile sperm swimming around my womb on active, living instinct. Not letting me get away.

It's hot inside me.

Hot puff of air over my breasts, too. A snort. A clench, nuh, sensitive—he's holding on tight.

“Kh—ah—"

I don't—I can't breathe. Holding my breath. My throat's… I'm tightened up everywhere for him.

Mff. It's a lot. It's really a lot. He's still cumming. Packing his nut inside me.

Fat, fuzzy belly pinning mine while he gropes and creams me, and my brain demands I adore it. I can't move or breathe and I love it. I love it so much. Sweat dripping down from his ass over mine, bare and quivering and flattened under his dicking, and he's teaching me how to take a full-body breeding.

Mind control…?

He's always had me. I was always going to end up wrapped around his dick all the way to his wrinkly, musky pouch, pumped full of some wonderful stranger's babies.

My lucky break I didn't realize it in time.

The world just got another mommy, and she's never getting away. Never ever.

Ooh. Mmph. Thicker squirt that time. Think he's… coming down now. Even his fat, full, sweaty balls have to take a break eventually. Mm. Just giving the stragglers a chance to squirm through inside me.

Hff.

Every one of my defenses patiently broken through, one by one….

Finally full of his cream.

Freshly fucked and bred full of his hot, cushy sperm. Like a good pet. Obedient… gonna listen to him from now on. I'll be good. And he—

Oof. Mmf.

He just collapsed. Really sprawled on top of me now. Thick belly breathing hard over mine, flat against each other, fat twitching dick still tucked inside while the—hnn—nubs recede, let me go with I swear to god a fat gooey pop inside me. But not pulling out. One last fuzzy twitch from his balls right against my butt, resting there, fully nutted.

Still kinda… shaking. The really good way. Fat cuddly Hypno lover sweating all over me while he takes my whole body for a pillow in his afterglow, nuzzling his chin directly between my breasts, still cupping either one as greedy as he can.

God, his… his dick is still really good. He's not pulling out. Still keeping me pinned, still—twitching. Mm. I'm still keeping him warm. Our sweat is all I can smell, but… his musk and my cream filling are already catching up to my nose.

Ooh. And cool air.

Feels good over my hot skin. Deep breath.

“I gotta—"

Oh. Hmf. Ah.

Clear sniff of the mess he made me milk out of him. There it is. That's how I smell all over now, too.

Is he…?

He's asleep. His heavy stomach bobbing easy over mine, fingers loosened on my sore body. I'm his pillow. I get to be his pillow.

I'm not going anywhere. And my own pillow is kinda… really comfortable. Soaked with all the rest of the sheets, but… it's comfy in a bigger way down here, staying on dick-warming duty while he grabs a nap.

Help him get all the rest he likes before we clean up and head back to my place tonight, redecorate, rearrange however's gonna help him feel one hundred percent at home. Should take a sick day from work tomorrow….

Was I… saying something?

Mn. Not anymore.

Not anymore.

Back in a cute baggy tee, all my dirty clothes in a little plastic grocery bag, the grocery bag tucked into my backpack, and I'm packed up all nice again. Plants are watered, T.V.'s off, freezer is stocked full of ice cream we never got back to. Bed is…

I'll replace those sheets tomorrow. Later.

Cool enough in here that I'm comfortable wearing clothes again, finally, but I'm kinda disappointed to be so clothed again anyway. Little disappointed in myself to be wearing anything around my guy. There shouldn't be anything obscuring what he likes.

Case in—mm—point: the pair of grabby hands reaching around at my tits from behind me while I'm zipping up my bag.

If he feels like shooting another load before we get home, maybe we'll just… find a cafe or something, someplace with a bathroom. I don't think I should make him wait. Not for my own convenience. And I would really, really love a snack anytime he feels like sharing.

Just glancing around at him, and his big fuzzy hands still feeling me up, kneading in wide circles—don't think he's gonna let me make it the whole trip without really really needing his dick again.

But he lets go of me, and I've—okay, got to stop biting my lip right now. About to go.

Swing open the front door, keys in hand, and right now that feels kinda… big. Like a whole thing I'm experiencing. New chapter of my life? Or someone's.

Getting out here with my new guy, or him getting out here with his new girl, and mostly, I don't think I can ever come back.

Hot as hell out here. God.

I'm glad.

-

And five steps outside there's a paper stapled to the closest power line that wasn't here last time I passed by.

MISSING HYPNO

Harold aka Harry was last seen wandering near this neighborhood, he is friendly but is geriatric and may be easily confused, if seen please call us at Shady Beech Retirement Center any time of day or night, we miss him and are very worried!!

Little tear-off phone numbers at the bottom. Picture at the top.

The guy in the picture has a pendulum that's hanging around his neckpiece, too.

Tilt my head back at the guy I got with me, and he's not looking back at me. Not looking much of anywhere. Squinting out here with me even in the dimming sun at nothing and nowhere, already zoned out.

Hmm.

Pursing my lips.

I…

I'm just tugging my phone out a second here.

“Wow, thank you so much for taking care of Harry like that. He's so quiet, he always slips out right under our noses to take walks outside, and he always comes back if we don't go find him first, but with the heat wave this week, and the—and his, uh—gosh, we were just so worried—"

“M-hm, yeah. Yeah. Very worried. I would be too, I'm sure."

Kinda suntanny white dude in the kinda uniform I don't know means he's a nurse or only technically not a nurse meeting me in the reception of their old folks' place here. Nearby. Tucked away, like… three blocks down.

Just… giving him a real big smile. Tiny smile. Whichever I've got.

“He used to live in this area, actually, he and Mister Mercer. But Mister Mercer—Fred—he passed away earlier this year, and he bequeathed a sum in his will for poor Harry to stay here with us. Fred already knew our community since he helped his wife move into our long-term nursing wing, but she—"

Mhm. Mhm. Yes. Lot of detail. Important for me to know a fuller story here before I fucking go, apparently. Holding one hand under the strap of my backpack and swinging the other free, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet in my sweat-sticky sandals while I watch in the corner of my eye the two gray-haired black women in walkers making their slow, slow, slow way through some sitting room just ahead.

Don't purse my lips. No scowling. Don't look suspicious.

So the Hypno dude slouched over next to me I can call… Harry, now. Going back and picturing a pokemon dude named Harry fucking me up and down wherever he or I felt like.

Or do I prefer having had sex with Harold?

Kinda hope it's not offensive if I just keep calling him the Hypno dude.

“—Really, that was so kind of you to let him into your home like that. We're so grateful he wasn't out in that heat too long, and he doesn't do so well on his own these days anyway. But while he was with you, he didn't, uh—"

The nursing guy takes a quick look at the Hypno dude who's squinting at wherever he's squinting, then takes a sharper, anxious look back at me.

“He didn't… do anything strange, did he? Anything, uh…?"

Looking sharp and anxious at me, and not breaking his gaze.

Really wants the answer to this.

Big smile, I'm sure of it, and I don't miss another beat to ask him, “Like what?"

Nurse takes one more second, and he smiles right back.

“Nothing at all. You know. He's old, so… if you didn't notice anything, it's nothing."

Shrug like whatever you say, none of my business.

Just…

Glance back over at my—at the Hypno guy, and it's like in the minutes this has taken he's forgotten my existence. Staring into space. Doesn't notice me at all.

“When you say old, you mean, like, senile…?"

“Oh, no, no. He just gets a little out of it sometimes. His social awareness hasn't aged so well with him, or his short term memory. Sometimes he forgets to… pay attention to his surroundings."

I fucked a geezer.

A geezer fucked me.

The reasonable explanation for how that came to be is not making it any easier to keep up this smile.

Guess this is where he got that popsicle from that he gave me. From his old folks' home.

“Right. Right…. And the odd behavior, um—would that have anything to do with mind control?"

“Ha ha, definitely not. Common misconception. Hypnos can use their hypnosis to put you to sleep if you let them, but they can't mind control you. Not even after hypnosis. It's a real shame how much that myth has propagated."

My lips strain to keep up something polite.

The pendulum was just a necklace. Goddamn red herring.

Don't think I've blinked in twenty seconds.

“Oh."

Is that me who just said that? Hm. Didn't notice saying it.

“But that's what I'm saying. With the sort of reputation Hypnos get from that, it really goes to show just how nice it was of you that you were willing to—"

“Yup. Yeah. Mhm. I just… don't buy into that kind of bullshit, you know. Just don't believe it. I don't believe it. I do not believe it."

Kinda pursing my lips anyway. Sucking my teeth.

Takes him a second, but the nurse puts on some disarming kinda grin like he's offering a truce here. Lifts a hand up behind his neck, scratches.

“Well, that was my way of coming around to mention that we're always open to visitors here. Some of our residents don't get many, Harry included… and visitors really help them feel like they're still connected to the world."

One more look back to Harry included, and now he's squinting super intense straight at the nurse, just how he did with me.

The nurse isn't even glancing back. That's what he's not dignifying.

“Good to know," I tell him.

Nurse's grin just grows.

“Just saying. You're always welcome to swing by and say hi. We're always looking for volunteers to spend time with our residents."

The two gray-haired ladies are still barely in sight a ways behind him. I can still see them.

And now my brain's wandering over to the thought of how much less virile an old, old pokemon's cum is, besides the whole thing of never actually wanting a baby in my goddamn life previous to the past forty-eight hours. And believing for one second a pokemon could do that.

Little deet-deet from the back pocket of my shorts that breaks the silence for me. Pull my phone out and check the notification, and inaccurately, I say, “Ah, damn, I'm late. Yup, thanks for that offer, but right now I've got a thing. It's like a—I should go."

Nurse grins from me to the Hypno guy, bends his hands down to his knees, crouching face to face. Like a routine.

“Harry, Genna has to say goodbye now. How about you say goodbye to her, too?"

The Hypno guy looks at the nurse, then squints off into space again towards a wall. Not at me. Gotcha.

Muster some kinda smile again, probably, and I slide my phone back in its pocket.

“No problem, I'll… see him again, or something. Swing by later. He's good. See you."

Twist on my sweaty heel and do not take the time for the nurse or anybody else to see me off. I'm out of here. Need to drop by that wine store I've seen is my thing I've got to get to. Already know I'm gonna get introspective tonight for all this learning new facets of myself and no way in hell I'm doing that without a goddamn drink. And it's a goddamn hour it's gonna take me getting back home on my side of the city already.

But—just…

While the automatic doors slide open for me, I do take one look back.

And I get a Hypno looking back at me.

Holding the nurse's hand, or the nurse is holding his hand while he's led back for dinner or something, but he's looking over his shoulder with that big, baggy squint at only me.

His other hand is up to his mouth, two fingers parted on either side of his lips, and he's licking between them.

Fast.

At me.

For just another second, I'm staring.

He ain't senile.

I keep walking.

Doors close by themselves behind me, and it's a little cooler outside by now. Sun's almost gone and I'm not quite boiling out here anymore. Shore up my backpack.

Heat's still bad enough that I'm kinda dreading just coming back out here tomorrow after work for the actual housesitting. Momma and Daddy can't get back soon enough.

Kinda frowning. Kinda thinking, letting my brain wander under its own power.

Brushing an idle hand over my stomach, too, apparently.

Kinda not frowning anymore, I think.

Weird or not, we did kinda get along. I don't want that poor old guy to get lonely without me.

Some voice in the back of my brain telling me… maybe I should visit him sometime.

Think I might.