Sephalla, My Nightmare, Ch. 5

 

Chapter 5: Body Worship

 

I’m…a little obsessed, I think.

Maybe it’s just the turn of events, the weird happenings, but I never really paid a huge amount of attention to Sephalla before. It was always more in my interest to avoid her and, in doing so, prevent any pain from coming my way.

But she is, undeniably, hot. A fucking ridiculous smoke-show of a woman.

Tall and quite muscular, made especially obvious when she’s in the midst of physical activity. When sweat glazes her finely black-furred body, it highlights the toned abs of her belly, the definition of her powerful thighs, the appealing lines of her shoulders.

I only spot her in passing, when PE has ended. She does kickboxing, not the lazy badminton I chose to avoid any serious effort. In a much-overworked sports bra, in shorts that sport a fat fucking bulge at the front and two huge hillocks at the back, I’m distracted. I find myself standing by the door, the other kids passing by and leaving for the changing rooms, while I stare dumbfounded at the nightmare’s form.

She’s so strong, so quick. A line of bags, sandbags upsized for the monster races, lie split and broken at the side of the room, a few meeker students looking on in terror as she slams and punches, spins and kicks, tearing and rending open the current article.

‘Ms Magnificent!’ her teacher shouts. ‘It’s time to go home!’

And thankfully the volume – that PE teacher trademark bellow – wakes me from my obsessive stupor.

But not before Sephalla catches me in her periphery, seizing me with a devilish smirk.

 

It’s a mistake, but I’m powerless to prevent it. I go slow, feigning changing and washing and preparing for home, caught up on a stupid idea.

When at last the moment arrives I slip out the other way, towards the now-empty gym corridors, and make for the kickboxing room. Why? Maybe I hope that smirk meant something, or that she’s dedicated, or that I can just…can just…

What’s wrong with me? Sephalla’s meant to be…I don’t know what she is.

The room is empty at a glance, but I go in. It bends around to the side, forming an alcove, a storage cupboard. ‘Ugh.’

Her moan hits, soft and low. I peek around the corner and there she is, sweaty and perfect, muscle and beauty. Sephalla the Magnificent, her vast demonic equine cock in both hands while she strokes it, milking it for all its worth. I suck in a sharp breath and she looks up, a playful, evil, dirty smile gracing her full blue-black lips. Her cheeks are flush, her eyes lustful.

‘Wanna help me out, or are you gonna be a pussy?’

Blushing, heart thumping in my chest, I turn around, but only go as far as the room’s main door. I shut it softly, locking it from the inside, and go back to the nightmare girl, sat as she is on a pile of discarded punching bags. At the threshold I hesitate, frozen, caught between the twin worlds of her beautiful, powerful femininity, and that gargantuan, deadly-looking dick. I really am a pussy, aren’t I?

Sephalla, halfway to nine feet, stacked to hell and back. Powerful arms, strong shoulders, a curvy yet athletic body, a mixture of both blessings. Huge – huge – breasts packed inside a sports bra, the heft of them bulging over the top, out from beneath the seams below. Her nipples, prominently pierced, poke through with a barbell on each. That stomach, flat and rippling in defined muscle, sweaty from her efforts. Those hips, full and wide and curved, dipping down onto thick thighs and between those…a blue-flame crotch from which a sheath protrudes, a sheath from which a three-foot penis protrudes, a three-foot penis below which hangs a sack of fat orange-sized nuts between her wide-parted legs. Her shorts linger around her left ankle, not yet fully discarded.

‘Don’t be scared,’ Sephalla says, patting a spot on the pile beside her. ‘I won’t bite, unless you’re into that.’ She winks, coal-flame eyes a marvellous thing.

I can’t deny that I’m hard as a rock, and I can’t deny that I’m deeply attracted to her, and…I can’t deny that her cock, somehow, fascinates me. Wrist-thick and arm-length, big even considering the massiveness of her inhuman body. A horse-like cock, fat with veins, ending in a flared cresting helmet, its edges stellated with backwards-facing nubs of flesh the same dark violet as the rest of her length. Her glossy-skinned smooth glans, sticky and gooey, glazed in its own juices, bulges slightly at the top, curves inward below, nestling around a dark outlet just above a cleft at the base.

‘This is mad,’ I say, going over to her. Rounding her parted knees, stepping over her feet, sitting on her right upon the stack of punching bags. ‘It’s insane.’

‘That I’ve got this?’ she says, giving her enormity a shake.

‘That we’re…that I’m…’

Sephalla puts a hand on my back, stroking me kindly, up and down, up and down. Despite her sheer strength, the motion wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly. ‘You’re crushing on me, aren’t you?’

I sigh. ‘Yeah.’

But she kisses the top of my head. ‘You really are pathetic.’

‘You’re still so cruel to me, man. I thought we were…are…’

‘What? Lovers? Sex-friends?’ Sephalla sniggers. ‘Jeez, dude. Your bully gives you one blowjob, and you’re smitten?’ She runs that hand up, tussles my hair with it as though I’m a child, despite her being the same age as me. ‘Shit, what if I’d let you fuck me? Would you crawl up my arse and live there?’

‘Fuck you, Sephy.’

She turns and grapples me, hands about my throat, tumbling the both of us to the floor. I do my best to grin through the primal fear of death, rolling about with this dangerous creature from another world. Sephalla smirks all the while, devilish and deviant, pushing me onto my back and planting herself down on my stomach, expertly applying only enough weight to pin me to the ground.

‘Cheeky little shit, aren’t you?’ She pushes against my throat with one hand, holding onto her towering cock with the other. It looms overhead, pulled up by her grip, such that the leaking helmet is positioned just above my face. ‘See how you like being splattered in precum, how about that?’

I shift uneasily on reflex but I’m excited, scared, confused. ‘Where are these…these people lining up to give you head?’

Her face changes minutely, a severity leaking into the dark humour. ‘I blew you, a little human, and what you took away from it was that I’ve got plenty of outlets?’ Sephalla screws up her face, mocking me. ‘Jeez, dude. That’s sad.’

I turn away, eyes shamefully wet. I’m possessive, aren’t I? I really am crushing on her, hard. This beautiful devil, out of my league. ‘There wasn’t anyone else in your book.’

She sighs loudly, rolls her eyes, and regains her feet. ‘Way to kill the mood, loser.’ Sephalla goes and fishes up her shorts, but then hesitates. ‘The book was just stupid dirty stories, all right? I only picked you, out of every boy in this shithole, because you’re the biggest loser of them all. Got it?’

‘Yeah. Got it.’

I sit upright, eyes hazy with tears. Stupid. Incredibly stupid. What was I expecting, mixing emotions into this, when all she wants is sex? It hurts, feels awkward to look to her, so I just roll onto my feet, make for the exit.

‘Are you for real?’ she says, stopping me in my tracks.

‘What’s that mean?’

‘Are you really jealous? Like, did you get hit in the head?’

‘Fuck you, man.’ I turn, try my best to glare, but she’s gorgeous, terrifying. ‘I preferred it when you were beating me up. It was fucking clear where I stood.’

Her hand comes down upon the back of my neck, pressing me to the wall beside the doorway. The damp heat of her body, the sheer mass of the towering nightmare, easily sandwiches me against the smooth cold plaster of the storage room.

‘Don’t get all sappy with me, idiot,’ Sephalla says. Her dark-syrup voice is warm, edged in humour. ‘But I didn’t take you for such a dirty little masochist, either.’

She slams her hips forwards, pressing something incredibly hard, incredibly hot, up against my backside. That pole of demonic equine meat finds no resistance. She must always get her way, I imagine, and her cock is just an extension of that privilege. I shudder and shiver, try to extricate myself, but Sephalla is too strong, too heavy.

‘Seph…’

‘How are you going to make it up for me, for ruining a good moment?’

‘What?’

‘Come on, dickhead,’ she says, and chuckles. ‘You really think I didn’t expect you to come find me? I’ve been waiting.’

She leans down, kisses my throat, predatory, violent almost. Hot wet lips, followed by a lap of a tongue, the strange warmth of that metal stud. Sephalla reaches around and below, snatching upon my clothed erection, giving it a firm squeeze.

‘You’re so easy, jeez. Do you have any idea how hot it is, bullying you, getting this reaction?’

It’s scary how strong she is, how malleable I am in her hands. Sephalla grabs my shoulders and twists me about to face her such that the tip of her erection is pushed downwards, sliding up between my legs. Her stink is strong, sweet and sulphurous, exotic and feminine. I’m facing her muscled belly, slick and glistening. To look up is to stare at the underside of her breasts, bulging plumply below the poorly-fitted confines of the sports bra.

‘Kiss my abs, loser,’ she says, teasing fingers through my hair. ‘Lick them clean.’

‘I…’

But what am I really going to say? Sephalla sniggers, that hand cupping the back of my head. I’m so pathetic and yet so ridiculously aroused by her, madly attracted to her. I lean in, pressing my face against her damp belly, the muscles firm as rock, hot against my skin. She strokes my head like I’m a baby, a pet, as I press my lips to her abdomen, wetting my mouth with salty demonic sweat.

‘I did mean it, you know,’ she says. ‘You are cute.’

‘I thought I was the biggest loser of them all,’ I say, between gentle kisses.

‘Yeah, and? Those aren’t oxymorons, dude.’ Sephalla tussles my hair. ‘You’re a complete fucking loser and you’re pretty cute.’ She chuckles. ‘Which is why I’m letting you make it up to me.’

I lick my lips, tasting the salt of her finely furred belly. ‘What an honour.’

She reaches down and pinches the tip of my cock. Light, but enough to provoke a wince, a shudder. ‘You should be thanking me. I’m your fucking goddess, got it?’

‘Y-es, Sephalla, oh Magnificent one,’ I say, through gritted teeth. ‘Thank you for letting me kiss your sweaty muscles.’

And while I attempt humour, and while on some level I feel stupid for even going along with this, on another – and what is thankfully in line with my fate – I want to taste more of her perspiration, to feel the chiselled definition of her gorgeous flesh against the delicate contours of my tongue.

‘Oh, you’re very welcome, loser.’

She does something, as I’m digging my tongue into her sculpted muscles with a newfound lusty abandon. Sephalla reaches down and unhitches the tip of her length from between my legs, nestled as it was against the underside of my balls. Out it springs and she guides it up, giving me pause, making my heart thump away behind my ribs. Dirty, pseudo-gay excitement, that interest in her equine phallus.

‘Don’t stop,’ she says, releasing my head, then fiddling with the underside of her sports bra and stuffing the flared head of her meat up inside it, stashing it between her enormous breasts. ‘Work around it.’ Sephalla giggles, pats my head. ‘You can always kiss that as well, if you want to. I won’t mind.’

I pause, press my hands to her damp hips, relishing the feel of those fatty curves, that womanly give and softness. The perfect, powerful female body is distorted now, the vertical intrusion of her mammoth and undeniably male component having scrambled the vista. Not ruined, by any stretch – try as I might to be sane, to be straight-forwardly straight, I’m fascinated by her penis – but it’s certainly made confusing.

Below, strained and made obvious by the angle, her gigantic balls wobble and bounce, sagging in their smooth blackish-blue sack against my belly. Above me her cock disappears under a flap of fabric, nestled in the most marvellous environment I can imagine, between the two mountains on her chest.

‘I don’t feel that mouth, dickhead.’

‘Sorry, I’m just–’

‘Stop apologising,’ Sephalla says. ‘Give me your hands.’

‘My hands?’

‘Yeah.’ She reaches down, takes each hold of each wrist. ‘I’ll keep them, put them to use. You just keep licking my belly, okay?’

Blushing, horny, trembling, I nod. ‘Y-eah.’

As I lean in again, moving to the right of her disruptive shaft, Sephalla lifts my hands up over my head. She casually brings them down upon two soft, slightly moist surfaces, clearly fabric, but…

‘Woah.’

‘Yeah.’ She chuckles. ‘Titties, huh? But don’t stop. Get licking.’

I lose myself in the moment, the heat and wonderful musk of her body enchanting. The sensation of my hands, pressed upon by hers, sinking into the fat heft of her enormous boobs, is otherworldly. Her nipple bars press into my palms, each a protrusion of solid heat amid the pillowy softness of each massive breast.

‘Mhm.’ She moans, calm and low, as I lick her abs. ‘Good boy. Worship your queen.’

‘Y-es. Schlup. Slurp.’

I realise what she’s doing, now. Her cock, sandwiched up in her bra, is being milked by her milkers, my hands the masturbatory implement, made to shift her resplendently heavy chest up and down, though I realise she’s doing the actual work. It must be tight enough without any real pressure, given that the bra is a size or two too small, and that her chest is so overwhelmingly gigantic.

Her tail swishes wildly as I kiss and lick, as my hands are forced to heave against those incredibly heavy tits. I’m jealous of that cock, so fat and huge and thick, getting massaged by her perfect chest. Sephalla grinds slowly against me, her weighty balls bouncing and pressing into my gut. There’s definitely more than four, and each is like a big orange, round and bulky, pleasantly warm.

‘Mhm-hm, that’s it. Damn, my tits feel good.’

‘I bet,’ I say. ‘Mhm. Schlup.’

‘Bet you wish it was your dick, huh?’

‘Y-eah.’

She giggles. ‘Yours would get lost, idiot. We’d never find it again!’

I should be upset, insulted even, but her words come to mind: nice cock, by the way. She loves this, mocking me, mistreating me, and…I think I like it, too. The proof is in the pudding, don’t they say? If she really didn’t like me, really was disgusted by me, I wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening.

So…Sephalla likes me. And I, obviously, like Sephalla.

Which is why, when I forget what I’m doing and follow the line of an abdominal muscle horizontally until my tongue comes into collision with a bulging vein on the side of her enormous penis, I’m struck with strange and erotic thoughts.

Should I…? I should, shouldn’t I? I want, more than anything, to pleasure her.

‘Ugh. Well, um, I didn’t actually expect that.’

It’s hot, against my tongue. Hot, throbbing, salty. Where it rises from her sheath, beyond the confines of the leathery black flesh that ends in a thick black ring, her cock becomes this beautifully deep shade of indigo-violet, glossy almost, smooth and slick. It shouldn’t be tasty, but it is. I like the saltiness, the faint bitterness. It’s musky, heady, potent, bestial, demonic. And ever so hot against my tongue.

‘You wanted to be worshipped, right?’ I say, not fully believing my boldness, the low sensuality in my voice. I kiss the underside of her shaft, where that broad cum-vein bulges prominently. ‘Besides, whatever your plan is, maybe I want to see it blow up in your face. Literally.’

She thrusts forwards, balls slapping my gut and pinning me against the wall, keeping my mouth pressed to the underside of her cock. ‘You’re fucking naughty dude, jeez. Did I make you like this, or were you always a filthy little human pervert?’

I find myself laughing. ‘You definitely helped.’ I smooch, kiss, lap. ‘Is it good, uh…Mother?’

‘Mother?!’

Eroticism gives way to laughter, stupid laughter, starting from her and reaching me and going back again. Sephalla releases my hands, almost buckles over, pressing against the wall for support, in the process flattening the backs of my fingers and palms against the plaster, her bountiful breasts warming the other side. Her monstrous cock smashes against the side of my face, a hot lance of horse-meat.

It’s stupid. We’re stupid. This is silly, insane, weird, wonderful.

‘I just…Christians call their God Father, right?’ I say, managing restraint, and to tilt my head sideways enough. ‘And if you’re my goddess, then, uh…you get where I’m coming from?’

She pats my head. ‘I do, you fucking weirdo. I do, but jeez! I’m meant to be cumming, not laughing.’

‘Sorry, Seph.’

Sephalla cups my chin. ‘What did I say about apologising, loser?’ She steps backwards, still holding me, putting enough distance between us that our eyes can meet, though my neck does ache to look up at her pseudo-equine face. Her muzzled beauty is breath-taking, her coal-fire eyes alive and aglow with humour, her voluptuous blue-black lips fending off a goofy smile that does nothing to diminish the womanly gorgeousness of her usually controlled, sultry looks. ‘You need to stop talking, all right? Your mouth chats utter shit.’

‘Sor–I mean, I’ll stop.’

She moves towards the discarded punching bags, then turns about. Sephalla smirks at me as she descends, legs in a wide stance. The nightmare sits down on the pile of bags, her heaving testicles drooping over the edge, her mightily erect phallus pointing up from out of that azure fiery shock of pubic hair.

‘Kneel,’ she says. Seph makes a show of pointing at the floor between her parted knees. ‘Go on, Jake. Get on your knees.’

I hesitate, frozen. Knowing what she means, knowing what she wants. Her monstrous demonic erection rises up from beneath those perfect muscular legs, its stellation-ringed crown vertically-clefted, staring at me cycloptic. The vaguely heart-shaped flare-tip, narrowest at the bottom, widest at the top, glistens a smooth dark purple in the artificial light of the equipment cupboard.

‘You want me to…to give you head?’ I say.

Seph rolls her coal-fire eyes. ‘Duh. Don’t you? You can’t take your eyes off it.’

She’s right. I can’t. ‘Last time…wasn’t exactly comfortable.’

A pang of something, almost certainly guilt, passes her looks. ‘That was a one-off. I give you permission to suck me as slowly as you want, so long as you do a good job.’

Beyond the nervousness, the curiosity, I find myself smirking. ‘Permission? Lucky me.’

‘Yes, permission.’ Sephalla grins at me, all mischief and naughtiness. ‘So get on your knees, and take advantage of this one-time special offer.’

It’s…it’s not that I don’t want to.

Sephalla is gorgeous, drop-dead-gorgeous. Her demonic equid cock, intimidating as it is, is not so foreign to me. Its colour is beautiful, its shape oddly alluring. Were it on a man, I’d have no interest, but for it to be hers makes it something rather special.

But a thought occurs. A self-affirming thought.

‘I want something in return,’ I say, with only the faintest tremble in my voice.

Something swims across Sephalla’s coal-flame eyes. Something I’ve not seen before. It’s fleeting, momentary, but it’s sexy as hell. ‘What makes you think you can ask?’

When she speaks, her voice isn’t as confident as usual. That dark sultry syrupy sweetness has to it just a hint of uncertainty. And the look, instantly, makes sense: as much as she acts contrary, she doesn’t want to just have her own way.

‘The fact that I’d be doing you a favour, as well?’ I manage a shaky smile. ‘I’ll give you a blowjob, and in return…I want to see your tits.’

Sephalla cocks her head, eyes aflutter. ‘Just see them?’

No. More than that. Be bolder. ‘I want to play with them,’ I say. ‘I…want to suck on them. I want…I want to fuck them.’

She produces a mocking smile with that dark-lipped mouth, hinting at white teeth. ‘Are you an idiot, Jake? Didn’t I tell you that we’d never find it again?’

‘That sounds pretty fucking perfect to me, Seph.’

Her face doesn’t show the internal process, but her cock twitches. Just a shudder, just a ripple along its powerful length, but it happens all the same. ‘Fine,’ she says.

I did it. I stood up for myself. I’ve actually been fucking brave.

And my reward is…holy fucking shit.

Sephalla straightens her back, a veritable giant, my height and half of it again. Even sat, she’s much taller than I am. I, uh, really like it. I’d never thought much for the appeal of tall women but damn, there’s just so much of her. Exemplified, especially, by the sheer plump form-suiting mass of those mammoth tits.

I watch, hard as a rock, as she digs her fingers into the undersides of that overworked sports bra. The nightmare gets a good grip and pulls upwards, straining at the surely magical fabric as breast meat bulges forth, a handful – for me at least – at a time. My eyes must be saucers, and Sephalla blushes, almost looking shy, but it’s hardly like I’m taking a good inventory of her face right now.

‘Holy shit,’ I say, when gravity asserts itself.

Outside of the bra, her boobs look even bigger. They drop with a healthy jiggle, swaying as the enormous mounds come to a natural rest against her torso. Each is larger than my head, maybe even twice the size. A pair of what must be the biggest, fullest, plumpest midnight-blue mammaries in the world, their noticeably puffy areolae wide and a lighter shade of azure, the proud nipples half the length of my thumbs and a fair bit thicker. In the light, glazed as they are with her sweat, the simple silvery bars skewering each nipple glisten and shine.

Of course they sag a bit, given their sheer mass. They’re way perkier than I’d expect even so, given the ridiculous volume of beautiful demonic heaviness contained in each boob. God, they’re the best tits in the world.

‘Are you just going to stare?’ Sephalla says.

‘They’re fucking amazing.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Dude, you’ve literally not looked at my face for the entire duration of this.’ The nightmare chuckles. ‘Well, if I ever need your attention, I know what to do. Are you going to fucking touch them, loser? Or should I put them away again?’

I go to her with a bit of a skip in my step, hit by the potent warmth of her body, the tantalising sweat of her finely-furred form, and all those distinctive Sephalla smells – sweet brimstone, smoky fruitiness, girly muskiness – rush into my nose.

She seizes me by the shoulders and pulls me down onto her lap, my knees jamming against her muscular fat thighs, and she easily supports my weight on the tremendous power of that equine cock. I shiver as its width presses up between my butt cheeks, some vague threat despite the actual tip being a good distance away from my puckered arsehole. The worry distracts me from the reason behind sitting this close to her.

‘Seph…’

‘If we’re doing this, it’s on my terms,’ she says, taking hold of my buttocks and squeezing. ‘Now stop being a pussy about it and give my tits the attention they deserve.’

I glance up, meeting her dangerous gaze. Sephalla, her face that of an anthropoid horse, stares down at me along the length of her muzzled visage. Her sexy mouth, dark-lipped, beneath a blunt snout with cute nostrils, is at odds with the ferocity in her eyes. It hints, with the gentlest of twitches, at a kind of hesitant nervousness.

Lowering my gaze, I take a sharp intake of breath. Beneath her pretty collarbone, below the muscular definition of her shoulders, Sephalla’s enormous breasts await my interest. They make me forget, for the most part, the three-foot horse dick upon which I sit. All the world is the nightmare girl’s gigantic tits, huge and plump, a pair of wonderful perkily sagging weapons of mass distraction.

I don’t know what comes over me. It’s a thing like before, when I was getting my cock sucked. A different impetus towards her, towards this bully-turned-fuck-friend. A desire to be the man, and not the loser she sees me as.

‘Shit,’ Seph says, her voice distant, weak. ‘Jake. What the fuck…’

I’m ravenous. Her height makes it easy, means I don’t need to bend forwards much. I slam my face against her right tit and get my mouth around the nipple, the bar tapping my teeth before it meets my tongue with its body-heat and metallic taste. The fur of her breasts is so fine, so minute, it might as well be skin with its velvety smoothness. And the nipple itself is exposed flesh, all the same.

Sephalla clenches down on my bum with her hands, letting out a sweet stifled moan. ‘Oh.’

‘Mhm.’

My own sound is an innate response to the satisfaction that washes over me, tasting the salty sweat of her breast. I suckle hard, without remorse, nursing in mad lusty panic on the pierced bosom, suckling as if my life depends on the full yielding softness of this most magnificent of tits.

I bring up a hand to support my sucking, but her chest is simply too heavy to position. Still, the warmth and the dampness and the silky feeling of her body against mine is good enough reason to push my fingers and palm up into the curvaceous underside her boob, and to press my other hand against the free tit, massaging as much as I can of her immense milker given the way her body dwarfs mine.

‘Jake…you’re…this is so…’

She groans, squeezing me more tightly. I’m lost to the sheer joy of nursing on her, tongue tracing out wild shapes across the metal bar and the firm nipple it skewers, suckling harshly on the gorgeous horse-demon’s chest.

I could do this forever. The plump yield of her flesh, the saltiness – and is there sweetness, as well, or am I imagining it? – to her nipple, the girly musk of her body, the welcoming warmth of being so close to her.

But then Sephalla takes hold of my throat.

I’m forced backwards so easily by the mighty demoness. Her coal-fire eyes glare down her muzzle at me, terrible and infernal. Something inside my soul quivers, staring into something that fundamentally outclasses me.

And then she’s kissing me, forcing her mouth upon mine, that studded tongue once again seeking out mine and loading my tastebuds with the sweet smoke of her spit. ‘Mhm.’

I’m moaning, or she’s moaning, or we’re both moaning. A subtle symphony, a synchronised low vocalisation of mutual pleasure. The horse-demon’s lips are so full and delicate, so hot and pleasant against mine. Her mouth is so much bigger, her tongue so much larger that I’m practically sucking on it. My cock aches and hers twitches against my backside, a feral heat that so easily holds my weight.

When Seph retreats a moment she bites my lower lip, gently pulling it backwards. I’m staring up at those amazing eyes, intense with lust, aflame with an excitement that mirrors my own.

‘I’m gonna lay down,’ she says, ‘and you’re gonna stick your cock between my tits.’

‘Okay.’

‘And while you’re doing that, you’re going to suck my dick. Got it?’

I nod. I nod, and Sephalla takes control.

So easily she hauls me up, an arm around my waist, tearing my shorts off in a smooth motion. Seph spins me about at the hip and lays down on her back, bringing me to rest so that I’m facing her feet and my arse is not far from her face. She releases my waist and takes up those big breasts beneath me, readily engulfing my small – above average for a human, but all is relative – dick between her enormous mammaries.

I tense up as the tightness swallows up my cock. Sephalla wasn’t lying. A glance down confirms that yes, my member has utterly vanished, so massive is her chest. I tremble, grit my teeth, but not from fear of losing myself.

Holy shit, I didn’t imagine such soft pillowy tits could, when sandwiching my cock, produce a sensation like being practically crushed. In the absolute best way possible.

‘Ugh.’

‘Don’t go shooting your paltry little load for nothing,’ Sephalla says from behind and beneath me. ‘You have a job to do, loser.’

With a twitch of her groin, the vast equid lance reminds me of its existence.

I take a sharp breath, startled by the sight of the gorgeous demoness’s penis. Not quite horse, not quite demon, something different than either. A black sheathe at the base, a thick ring of tissue, beyond which protrudes several feet of indigo cock meat culminating in a proud flared glans with a stellated crown. Already the dick’s squashed broad head is glistening, drooling with her precum.

While Seph holds my own cock captive between her massive tits, I lean forwards and take hold of what, at this point, can only be destiny.

Jesus, the thing heats up the air around it. So thickly laced with veins it is, so intimidating, as much a weapon as a sex organ. How on Earth did she jam that down my throat? How on Earth am I going to do a good job of sucking on it?

‘Seph…’

She squeezes her breasts together, sending an electrifying ripple up my spine. ‘Stop being a loser, Jake. I’m making you feel good, right? Just return the favour.’

She’s right. And it’s not even that I don’t want to touch it. Not even that I don’t want to taste it. Sephalla the Magnificent, in every way, continues to be magnificent. But her huge bestial cock has something at once terrible and alluring about it, and the juxtaposition gives me pause.

I never imagined I’d be looking at a monstrous dick and actually wanting it.

But here we are, aren’t we?

Sephalla almost bucks at me when I get my hands around her shaft. Our sizes are so disparate but her dick is sufficiently gigantic that it’s easily within reach. It’s vaguely sticky against my skin. It throbs so powerfully, so demandingly, as arrogant a thing as she is.

‘You’re so fucking big,’ I hear myself say, a thought becoming noise.

‘You like it, huh?’

It stinks richly, muskily, at once smoky and demonic while being animalistic and wild. A demon-horse, a nightmare, a fusion of wild and wicked. I’m actually salivating. The broad glans, bulging at the bottom – ordinarily the top, but the perspective is flipped – is marked by a vertical indent, with an obvious cum-hole opening beneath the bulge.

The raw smouldering heat of it widens my nostrils as I lean closer, wetting my lips. Mere inches separate my mouth from her futanari manhood.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I think it’s…I think you’re beautiful.’

I lose myself in the moment. The only sound in the little room is that of smooching and kissing, the wet smacking of my lips as I appreciatively peck and praise my former bully’s big beautiful horse-cock.

Seph bucks again, punching my kisser with her meaty helmet. ‘Suck,’ she says. ‘None of this romance bullshit. Get that fucking dick in your mouth, loser.’

‘Hey, fuck you,’ I reply, in good humour.

Sephalla responds by crushing my dick between her pillowy tits. ‘Look, dickbag, I’m pretty sure my tongue will reach your prostate, but we’ll never find out if you don’t suck my fucking dick.’ And then, with gentleness, Seph adds, ‘Kiss it next time. I just really need to nut, okay?’

I give her one last smooch, and taste my lips. Oily, gooey, salty-sweet. Just like before.

‘Okay.’

She groans as I slide my lips around her tip and settle for a dirtier kind of kiss. Sephalla bucks again and spills out a voluminous dribble of that interesting lubricant, which has me roll my tongue about to taste it, which in turn doubles to massage the engorged crown that dominates the entirety of my mouth with ease.

A tremble runs through her, felt where my cock is imprisoned between her hefty R-cup tits, and again where my hands struggle to reign in a tremendous horse, and finally in my mouth and between my lips where her imposing lance throbs and pulsates.

‘Ughn. Such a sweet mouth,’ she says. ‘You’re a lucky little loser, Jake.’

The heat and dampness of her breath between my butt cheeks makes the bones in my spine contort. Sephalla squeezes down against my dick, and starts to shift her chest about. Subtle movements, but the vice-like grip of her monster titties does most of the work anyway. I groan around her cock and dig my fingers into its unyielding bulk for stability, which the nightmare seems to greatly enjoy given that her manhood rewards me with a thick release of salty-sweet glaze.

Her dick is in my mouth for a second time, and this time it’s far more agreeable. The interesting shape of the thing, the pleasant taste of it, the heat and sheer presence of it – it’s simply so fucking huge – are all, individually and together, amazing.

I run my eyes down her penis towards the black sheath that makes up maybe a fifth or a sixth of its total length, spotting the quivering ever-living blue fire that makes up her pubes. Her thick muscular thighs are straining, and resting upon the space between them – so heavily built is she that there’s no hint of a gap between her legs – rolls about that interesting set of huge bollocks in their smooth leathery black sack.

Six. In the light, that’s the total number. Six individual testicles, each of which is about the size of a particularly fat orange.

A dirty intrusive thought occurs: Sephalla must produce an absolute motherlode of sperm.

I try to push the thought away, to focus on the milking pressure of her perfect breasts, or the heat of her breath against my crack – is she closer now? – but the penis in my mouth, that male organ, equid and demonic and immense, has pretty much a single purpose.

I’ve tasted Sephalla before. That rich, meaty, creamy, thick, ropey, squirming-with-seed produce of her hefty sextet of loins. The demonic and bestial release of a nightmare, a horse-demon. Her genes, her essence, the ejaculate form of her potency.

I…want to taste her again. I want her inside me, in the filthiest way I can imagine. In the most intimate way, besides.

‘Mhm.’

The thought provokes me to moan around her dick, to tug and stroke harder, to suck in my cheeks and bob my head up and down the immense crown of her weapon. It tickles my mouth with those stellated nubs, heats my face with its raw power, strains my lips with its girth and demanding pulses.

‘Oh shit,’ Seph says, a sweet surprise in her voice. Dark and sultry, yes, but girly, cute, as well. ‘The fuck has…you’re…jeez, Jake.’ A wetness presses against my backside, between my cheeks. A flicker, and what feels like a smooch. ‘Don’t you dare–ugh–show me up, you fucking loser.’

I groan around her dick, almost choke when a spurt of oily precum spits out across the roof of my mouth. Something hot and wet and powerful slips up inside of me, swimming against the walls of my arsehole. I’d be forced to wonder if not for one detail unmistakeable: a firm bump, like a piece of metal surrounded by fleshy musculature.

Sephalla’s tongue. In my butt.

She rubs her boobs in opposite directions upon my cock, the fat cushioning mounds doing plenty to make me blow my top without the added danger of this newfound brilliance born of the wet strength of her tongue, which tickles against a certain spot I’ve never before put to use.

My prostate. It must be. Just like she aimed for.

Well, she hit the bullseye.

‘Fuck. Jesus,’ I say, not hearing the tell-tale pop of my overworked lips leaving her cock. ‘Seph…it’s so–ughn–good.’

She’s doing it too well, if anything. I can hardly focus on blowing her when her powerful tongue is repeatedly hitting a spot that makes my eyes roll back into their sockets. My back is arched to a strenuous degree, my belly aflame with this spreading heat, and the tight squishiness of those mammoth boobs does nothing to help matters.

‘Mhm.’

Seph makes a noise, a sweet moan, as if appreciating the process. Or maybe it’s a victory noise, a contented affirmation of having outdone me in whatever competition we’re apparently engaged in. But whatever it is, the outcome on my end is indisputable.

I cum, hard. The sound that escapes me is barely human, a raging roar, as the most powerful orgasm of my life seizes control of the important regions of my brain and sends me into blissful chaos.

Sephalla produces this other sound, a kind of sensual surprise. I must clamp down on her tongue, locking her briefly in place, face nuzzled into my arse. Those perfect breasts, devourers of cock and now semen, hide any sign of the front end of my climax.

In the shock of it, the overwhelming force of it, I lean forwards and fall prone across her body, face coming to rest upon her muscled abdomen. I’m still gripping her cock, for whatever good its support does, shattered as I am, drained to the point of using the nightmare’s gorgeous form as a makeshift mattress.

‘So fucking weak,’ Sephalla says, obviously managing to free herself. ‘A little bit of butt-stuff and you fall apart. How am I going to get that blowjob now, loser?’

Fuck. I didn’t know cumming could take it out of me like this. And much as she’s stopped, much as there’s just the passive – and now, somewhat gooey – tightness of her tits milking me, the orgasm feels like it just goes on and on and on.

I try to stroke her, try to lift myself up, but all strength is gone. I am weak. I really am.

But then Seph’s hand comes down on the back of my head, kind and caring. She pets me, goes so far as to brush my cheek with a gentle thumb. ‘It’s okay, loser. Honest.’

‘R-eally?’

‘Yeah, dude. You were doing well. For a moment it felt like you were gonna try and suck my soul out.’ Sephalla chuckles sweetly. ‘Maybe last time we did this, I somehow put a bit of succubus in you, huh?’

‘But…we were trading…’

There’s a pause, even for the movements of her hand. It’s an awkward silence, but the nightmare breaks it. ‘Maybe I just wanted to make you cum,’ Seph says. ‘Maybe I like you enough to do that. Maybe.’

‘I really like you, man.’

‘You’re such a loser.’ But the petting resumes. ‘The other day, when I blew you? I lied.’

‘About what?’

‘I get a lot of offers, Jake. Demon horse-dick is pretty popular, y’know?’ She tickles me behind an ear. ‘But I don’t accept. I’m…I’m pretty boring, man. It’s enough stress dealing with one person at a time. That probably sounds silly, but–’

Somehow I find strength. Quaking, shaking, innards still pulsating, but I manage to sit up and throw myself about. Her iron-chiselled gut ignores my weight, but Sephalla the Magnificent blushes brightly when our eyes meet.

‘Be my girlfriend,’ I say, tone unsteady. My heart is racing. ‘I want to go out with you.’

‘Jake. Do you hear yourself?’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘Did you hit your head, loser? You have friends. People like you. You don’t have a weird smut diary in circulation.’ Sephalla’s eyes grow hooded, and she sighs. ‘You don’t want to be with the kind of dickhead who raped you. If you want to mess around, fine, but don’t bring feelings into it. You’re a total loser, but not that much of one.’

I smile faintly. ‘Don’t you go getting all fucking soft on me, idiot. I like it when you scare me a bit. It’s kind of a rush.’

Seph easily sits upright and I slide onto her lap, my side pushed against her throbbing length. God, she’s a big girl. Broader and taller and all-around frightening. But her face is all kinds of trouble, and none of it is dangerous.

‘You mean it?’

‘Of course. Treat me a bit mean, like today, but–’

‘I mean about the girlfriend thing, you fucking weirdo.’ She flicks my chest. ‘You want me to be your girlfriend?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

She wets those delicious-looking black lips. ‘I won’t be hidden. I want to sit with you. I’ll not be kept at arm’s length.’

I stare up at her beautiful face, beyond that lovely muzzle and snout, to those coal-fire eyes. So powerful, yet so awash with concern. ‘Why the fuck would I want to hide you? Who hurt you, man?’

‘Nobody,’ she says. Sephalla cups my face. ‘But Jake, I’m much bigger than you. I’m not exactly, uh, girly. And I’m certainly not – no matter what those fucking stories said – going to be some submissive little girl. You are going to get fucking railed, at least sometimes.’

I reach up and stroke the side of her beautiful muzzle, and to my great surprise, she leans into my hand. ‘You’re plenty girly. Just…there’s more girl to you than most.’

‘You really are weird, loser.’

I roll my eyes. ‘That makes two of us. And…the railing thing is fine.’ I brush her erection with my other hand, unable to deny the thoughts it stirs in me. If her tongue did what it did…what the hell would that do? ‘But I’d like to take turns, as well. I want you to be the girl sometimes.’

She rubs her face against my hand, takes hold of it at the wrist. ‘That’s the only way this thing works, dude. Loser as you might be, I actually like it when you’re a bit, y’know, demanding.’

‘And if I want to fuck you?’

Sephalla smirks, showing pretty teeth. ‘You’ll need to practise actually taking control.’

‘I can do that. Happily.’

‘We’ll see,’ she says. Seph lifts my face. ‘You have a dick-sucking quota to meet, first.’

But as the blush creeps into my face, and that lively thought returns, someone hammers their fists upon the outer door of the kickboxing room. A PE teacher shouts, demanding we open up. Sephalla rolls her eyes, then leans down and gives me a quick but passionate kiss, tasting my lips with her studded tongue.

‘Tomorrow. I’ll find you.’ She nuzzles my face. ‘Boyfriend.’

And my heart flutters.