The Harmony Room was different, refurnished in Diane’s whirlwind of renovations. The bed remained the same, though the sheets looked fresh and more heavy-duty, feeling like layers of cloth but smelling like plastic with the crimson covers offering a bright sheen. A cabinet in one corner was filled with potions of all kinds, though most of them were the familiar paired vials of C&As. There was also a dancer’s pole to one side and a sex swing opposite it. One wall - looking like the tool collection of some mancave - held all the various massagers, dildos, vibrators, whips, leather straps and other toys Honoka had no name for even as she couldn’t fathom how they were used or where they went inside. Looking in the bathroom, she became immediately ecstatic to find her old power dildo machine installed in the shower with a TV fitted above, one of her old shower heads replacing the stock one previously there. The waterproof mattress was also present, but the stall wasn’t as large as the one in her old apartment so it leaned against a wall, ready to slide into place when needed.
“It was mostly Eve,” Quinn said, coming into the bathroom behind Honoka, wearing a loose button-up flannel shirt, open in the bottom to expose her curvy abdomen. Matching cutoff pajama bottoms finished the casual ensemble, her whiskers twitching as she motioned to the whole room with her head. “Me an’ Banda helped, but the greenie stayed up all night gettin’ it done. I’m surprised she’s still conscious at this point after two all-nighters.”
“Out like a light, snoring up a storm,” Banda interjected, ducking into the room with Diane. Banda lacked many options for sleepwear, wearing the same black gym shorts and massive sports bra Honoka remembered from the sleepover only a few nights before. When it came to Race, practical trumped fashion every time. The big holstaur girl covered a yawn with a large three-fingered hand before continuing. “As soon as I’m done here, I’m joining her.”
Diane looked Honoka up and down. “We need to buy you some breakaway pants or something,” the succubus commented, dressed in a tight green spaghetti tank with shamrocks on it and a pair of painted-on red yoga pants, so snug they looked vacuum-sealed into her every crevice, clearly wearing no panties at the moment. Her luscious fiery hair was tied up in a chopstick bun, she looked like the no-nonsense cougar that lived up the street, her glasses only adding to the allure.
Honoka sighed, thinking the same thing as she pulled down her roomy white cotton Men’s PJ bottoms, the spring of her erection flinging a few drops of precum across the room. As she pulled her white tank off, Honoka flopped on the bed and looked up at Banda with some concern. “Any idea what’s about to happen?”
“Just some videos on porn sites. No idea what this will do to you.” Banda pulled out her phone, checked it for a minute then put it away. Murmuring something Honoka missed, the holstaur’s hands radiated light and heat as she waved them over the sixteen inches of girl sausage erect between them. Honoka didn’t feel much other than a tingling warmth, maybe a little more flushed, but the effect became apparent when Banda pulled away and Honoka spurted a steady stream of premen down her shaft instead of the occasional dribble.
“All y’all will get a detailed report, now shoo!” Quinn put her empty vials in the cabinet and forcibly shoved a laughing Banda and Diane out of the room before shutting the door and locking it. Spinning around, the otter girl leered at the now worried Honoka before heading over to the Wall Of Toys and picking a massive egg insertion vibrator. A thin cord trailed out, Quinn plugging the device into the wall outlet - which was oddly recessed and had a plastic door that closed to keep it waterproofed - and moseyed over, fiddling with her phone.
“Most of the toys are Diane’s an’ Eve’s,” Quinn said, finishing with her phone and tapping it, a slight vibration coming from the egg, “but this here is mine. The most powerful model made by OhMiPussy, may I present the OhMiGeddon.” She tapped her phone again and held it, the egg shaking so hard in her hand she couldn’t stop her entire arm from moving. “BT synced, fifty to two hundred hertz, two separate displacement motors, the website advertises this baby as showing up on the Richter Scale.”
A little frightened, Honoka edged back along the bed, leaving a trailing river of her clear ooze. “I don’t know if you understand, but using that…”
“Diane told me everything,” Quinn replied, languidly crawling up on the bed like a predator to prey, her eyes smoldering while she crept closer. “She’s been givin’ all us girls lessons, homework, access to your porn folder.” That saucy tart! Honoka thought, yet Quinn stalked the futa-girl relentlessly. “What I think ya need ta learn about me is Beastkin aren’t as horny or nympho as succubi, but we’re close. Especially with our mates: its a Race thing.”
Honoka hit the headboard, unable to move any further back. Quinn’s smile widened, lightly pressed the egg against Honoka’s folds, tapping very gently on her phone. Honoka felt those vibrations from her pussy to her diaphragm, forcing a sharp intake of breath when she tensed. Quinn teased, moving it up and down her vulva, soaking it in her copious amounts of precum before slowly pushing it in. Unable to stop herself, Honoka clamped down, keeping it inside, but using two fingers, Quinn pushed it back to Honoka’s cervix before removing her hand and slowly licking fingers clean. Then she pulled away and tapped furiously on her phone.
At first, Honoka flinched sharply away, ready to die by vibrator. When nothing happened, it actually grew worse. The anticipation of it happening was a gnawing, building thing in Honoka’s mind, and after a full minute, the young black woman gasped for air from the anxiety of what would cum.
“There,” Quinn finally said while she tossed the phone, rolling onto her back and deftly slipping off her cutoff PJs, revealing a blue-yonder pair of damp, thin, fishnet/foil double-layered panties. “I set ‘Geddon to go off at intervals based on my playlist, each song’s rhythm, pitch an’ tone determinin’ what you’re going to experience. The volume is down to subsonic, so only I’ll be able to hear it. Ya won’t know what’ll hit ya.” The panties came off so fast Honoka thought this must be prom night, but the action gave Honoka a clear view of the girl’s broad, furry mons and bright pink slit underneath, her labia swollen and wet. Rolling back up, Quinn yanked her shirt open and tossed it to the side, her furry melons held high and tight with a matching blue-yonder fishnet/foil layered demi unlined bra. “The playlist is an hour long.”
*vrr vrr vrr*
The black hermaphrodite felt it within herself, barely a nudge, but she received no warning, gasping more in surprise as her thighs came together and clenched around the egg. Then nothing, her body wanting more. Just as she relaxed, it began again, stronger.
*vrrRRrr*
“Oh, my word!” Honoka’s hands spread out, the vibration throbbing inside her for just a moment as it climbed then ebbed, causing her to grasp the covers and claw at them, her whole body wanting more and trying to escape.
“That’s just the first notes,” Quinn whispered, her nose tickling Honoka’s ear. Then she leaned back and stood up on the bed, straddling across her wife’s chest, her thick tail moving back and forth across Honoka’s dick. “Ever tried Crab Position?”
Honoka hadn’t. Another buzz inside her cunt stopped her from saying anything and Quinn just went right into it, leaning back and impaling herself onto Honoka’s swollen tip. The otter girl wasn’t expecting something so large and thick, her scream filled with pain that she bit off before Honoka stopped her, the young girl easing the meaty knob in further and further with circular hip motions, whimpering as she dipped glacially slow down the veiny girth.
*VvrrRrrrrRRRrrrRRRRrrrrrrRRRrr*
At this point, Honoka lost a few seconds, her female orgasm cresting closer and higher as whatever song played picked up the pace, the egg moved to the beat without stopping. The tiny vibrator proved potent, shaking Honoka’s whole body with thumping movements and rattling her teeth. The beastkin girl slid a little past halfway along the shaft and picked up speed, a river of precum leaking out the sides providing ample lubrication as she relaxed and slid downward.
“…ya are definitely…” Quinn forced down another inch, groaning when she felt herself bottom out at thirteen inches. Honoka understood some anatomy. It must be because of Quinn’s extended abdomen, there was more room in the canal. Quinn continued after a sharp grunt, “…the biggest I’ve…ug…guess I can’t get you…sk…all the way…” The otter girl then bent back, scootching with her tail and arms straight behind her on the bed between Honoka’s spread legs, her own furry feet fitting under Honoka’s armpits, her body now at a forty-five-degree angle away from Honoka. The black woman, panting, her penis still in the otter girl, bent away from her new wife as they copulated. While Honoka experienced a little strain, it was lost in the feeling of her rod buried in the tight boiling sea of teenage pussy, the last few inches of exposed shaft brushing deftly against the silky fur of Quinn’s mons and thighs.
*vrr vrr vrr…vrvrvrvrvrvrvrvrvr*
The song changed tracks. For a moment of stillness, they both breathed, but just as the song picked up to something much faster-paced Quinn swung back and lunged her entire body forward, crushing the glans with her cervix, again, again, picking up pace until she moved with the same beat as the egg in Honoka’s twat pulsed. Quinn proved very athletic, suspending her body above Honoka’s with her arms, legs and tail, panting breaths exhaling ecstasy at being filled.
For three songs, she kept that up.
Honoka lacked the endurance to hold off during the first one, the fast-paced vibrations forcing her over the edge. She howled a silent cry as her back arched and tried to simultaneously pull in deeper and push out the egg as it continued unabated in her engorged vagina. By the second song, Honoka felt Quinn’s first orgasm, her tight cooch growing painfully cramped as rasping breaths exploded out of her lungs, ululating a kind of sing-song cry, though not slowing down a bit as she kept ramming up and down Honoka’s dark meat. The third song was the longest and Honoka crested into her second female coitus while Quinn slowed down and transitioned into a grinding motion, playing with her own clit in slow, sensuous motions.
“…hff…hff…y’all gotta work…on yer dirty talk…hff…” Quinn said, trying to catch her breath as she rested on her tail and shook her arms out to keep them from cramping. “I get ya not likin’ swears, but nothin’s as hot sometimes as bein’ told ya’s a dirty slut.”
“…never understood it…” Honoka replied, her body so close, straining to reach that second O but also feeling the impending storm building in her gut. “…why would I want to tell someone I love…that they’re a slut…?”
*vvvvvvvvRRRRRRVVVRRRRVVVVRRRRRVVVVRRRR*
Maybe Quinn responded to the question, but she never got to voice it as the egg switched to another song. This one was likely power metal because the intensity in her snatch turned up to DragonForce levels. Honoka fem-came for the second time. This arched her body upward, pushing the otter woman back with a yelp. The vibrations grew so strong they traveled up her shaft and the black woman reached her limit.
“Time to ride herd!” Quinn sensed it, the girth of Honoka’s penis swelling an extra inch from thirteen inches to fourteen, the contractions almost bucking her off, yet this was what the otter girl had been waiting for. Quickly, even as she felt the thick cylinder of Honoka’s urethra expand impossibly huge and stretching her to the point of pain, Quinn went backward flat on her back and clamped both her arms and legs around Honoka, digging her claws in without breaking skin but still making sure she remained as secure as possible for the coming tide.
“YOU DIRTY SLUT!!” Honoka did not know why she said that, thinking wasn’t something she had complete control of at that moment. It was something Quinn only asked her to do seconds ago, but it came out anyway when the opening tsunami flooded into Quinn. The beastkin’s cunt was already filled to capacity with dick, so the blowback sprayed a thick white wave washing over Honoka but also splattered plenty onto the furred beastkin. Honoka’s small abdomen contracted over and over - muscular contractions - painfully pushing more and more spunk out like she was giving birth to a swimming pool.
“Maximum effort!” Honoka had no idea what Quinn was doing, but the black woman felt the otter girl moving. “This is a lot harder than I thought.” Now Honoka was curious - as curious as a woman was in the middle of two orgasms could be - raising her head slightly and moving one arm limply in the way of the oncoming backsplash of cream to see.
Locked as they were in the Tug Of Love position, Quinn used her tail primarily to stay in place, but also her firm grip on Honoka’s body to frantically ride Honoka’s ejaculating shaft. The pressure was immense, so the otter girl let the hot stream push her up about six inches, then she would dig in with her claws and stop herself, using her tail to give her the leverage to push back. Each time Quinn performed the maneuver, the reservoir of cum in her snatch expelled in an inundating, squelching tide. The otter girl remained exhausted from earlier, yet she moved like a woman possessed, each motion picking up speed until she was pumping quicker in the more technically tricky Tug than she had been in the Crab.
Quinn reasoned human physiology did not apply to Honoka. Fountaining jizz from her cock as Honoka’s pussy contracted in alternating rhythm with her penis, the otter woman tried to force another orgasm out of the Beast before the first one finished.
This is madness, Honoka thought, her mind in a haze as she continued to dual cum. Something started happening that really shouldn’t have been possible: she felt a larger climax building. Panicking, Honoka tried to pull out, but her feeble attempts proved useless as her abdomen expanded rapidly with backed up love mayo, reaching the size of a basketball belly in seconds before Honoka reared back and let loose the dogs of war!
Fireworks shot in the black woman’s head, every muscle in her body seizing. Banda’s blessing held firm and she didn’t black out like she usually did. Not from lack of sensation, instead because her mind had been expanded and reinforced to experience more. Black spots covered her vision and her jaw locked up in rictus as the strength of her erection lifted Quinn off the bed. Then, the power of her ejaculation shot the otter woman off Honoka’s black staff like a bottle rocket. The futanari was shoved to the headboard and banged her head, her pelvis pushed deep into the covers and even tossing the black woman into a sitting position, some of the hot stream scraping against Honoka’s cheek while she plastering the ceiling.
Quinn came for a second time and smiled when she saw the batter baby growing in Honoka’s tummy, though no woman is ever prepared to shoot off another woman’s dick. Yelping in surprise when she lifted into the air from an erection, Quinn couldn’t ready herself while she flung tail over teakettle into the air - full ten on her aerial somersault - hitting the edge of the soaked bed then tumbling to the floor like a discarded wet noodle. Twitching a bit from post-coitus, she weakly moved a hand over her nose to prevent the waterfall of slime from the edge of the bed drowning her. A deluge of more splooge drizzled from the ceiling, her body screaming in pain from her recent tumble, Quinn softly giggled after the whole experience.
********************
“Booyah! Forty-one points!” Quinn used multiple colored dry-erase markers on the small whiteboard in Honoka’s and Diane’s common area, the reflective rectangle labeled High Score at the top. 41 was artfully drawn with plenty of flowers, embellishments and what looked like a cartoon otter sticking out her tongue and pulling down one eyelid. Quinn was soaked - in water right now - still dripping from her fur onto the stone and rugs while she danced in front of the board.
Because there were children in the complex, a no naked rule was enforced outside of locked rooms. Quinn had found her panties at the bottom of Lake Jizz and slapped them on before sauntering outside. “All y’all better get comfortable in second place ‘cause ain’t noneya gonna beat this!”
Honoka was conflicted. On the one hand, not blacking out from pain meant she experienced the euphoria and immense pleasure she usually feared before. The half-african futa-girl was also sore, but it was more a pleasant ache instead of jabbing pain. All around, it had been a stellar experience. Then Diane barged in, took one look at the room and went into the bathroom. She procured a hose and hooked it up to the shower with a handy attachment and sprayed the entire place down. Nothing and no woman was safe, both Honoka and Quinn sputtering clean obscenities as they weakly tried to escape, but Diane remained relentless. The succubus did pause when Quinn scooped up her phone from the floor, though.
For the first time, the black woman noticed - as she crawled across the wet floor - the rugs were taken out of the Harmony room in preparation for regular hosings. At least the water stayed hot, the place quickly steaming up as Honoka and Quinn grabbed towels and left. Right now, Honoka dozed while she recovered on some cushions, wrapped up in her towel completely - white tank and PJs from earlier clinging to her wet body underneath - and tried not to take it personally she was treated like a muddy puppy only a few minutes ago.
“I didn’t think of it, but we need a rotating cleanup schedule,” Diane announced as she walked into the commons, wet and trailing steam from the room, flicking bits of ceiling cum off her wings and unable to see through foggy glasses. “Thank goodness for the dungeon draining the hazmat, or else we’d soon be swimming in it.”
“I’ll put on a maid outfit, dust the furniture, cum on the chandelier.” Honoka tried for joking, but it came off a little biting.
Diane paused, wiping her glasses on her shirt and sitting next to Honoka on the cushions, giving her a hug and a kiss. “You ok?”
Honoka sighed, deflating as she snuggled into the hug. “Yeah. It is one thing to talk about doing this scheduled race to the harmonization finish line, but the reality of it is I feel like a jizz dispenser. I don’t want to, my brain knows better, but its what it feels like.” Honoka laughed, reaching out and hugging Diane tighter. “This is just round one of a hundred, already I’m getting cold feet?”
“If you don’t want to…”
“No.” Honoka disengaged and sat up, putting the towel under one arm but shuddering a little from the AC. “I agree this is the best way, every time I do this everyone becomes a little safer. If I need to flood this entire dungeon to keep everyone safe, I would. And besides,” Honoka said, walking over to Quinn - who still victory danced - and gave her a quick peck before heading out the door, “it is not like cumming is boring: orgasms are awesome. First world problems, amiright?”
Padmava was Honoka’s next appointment. Maybe thinking she would be able to dry off, the damp dark-skinned woman decided to walk outside. The wall of humidity and heat that assaulted her felt refreshing, warming her up while she sauntered across the courtyard, though it did little to make her less wet. Halfway across, Honoka regretted her decision as she slumped along, still worn out from her hat trick earlier and sweat mingling with her overall dampness.
How do people live without AC? Honoka asked herself, not even able to admire the architecture like she would ordinarily. She glanced around nervously as she walked now. Honoka couldn’t place it, and nothing seemed out of place or sounded abnormal, but she felt like she was being watched. Chalking it up to dungeon weirdness, the black woman hurried her pace and hurried inside the main building as quickly as she possible.
“Moooooom! Where’s my stick?!”
Honoka dodged out of the way of a speeding green train, Jaya rushing past wearing athletic goggles and a white jersey uniform with a red number eleven on it.
“Hi, Honoka mom! Bye!” Then the energetic child disappeared around a corner before Honoka said anything.
“Here is your stick!” Padmava entered the room, two hands on one side holding a large yellow lacrosse stick, waving it around. Jaya came back, grabbing the stick and giving a quick hug and snakey tongue kiss on her mother’s cheek before scooping up a surprised Honoka and receiving the same snake tongue on her own cheek, the kid waving while she zoomed out the door.
Honoka wasn’t expecting the affection, but as she wiped the copious saliva off her face, she smiled and warmed inside. Is this what it feels like to raise a child? Honoka asked herself, enjoying the emotions.
“All the kids are homeschooled down here, though only the Lair has any significant underage population.” Padmava wore a gold silk robe with small black designs lining the edges, folding both sets of arms while she watched her daughter cross the courtyard at the same speed as a car. “An enterprising young man formed a sports club. He is making money hand over fist because every parent is desperate to toss their kids out of the house and someplace safe for a few hours every day.”
“I’d like to watch any games she plays in, if that’s ok,” Honoka said, also following the girl when she opened the front gate and slithered out. “I’m sure the rest of the girls would like to as well.”
Padmava practically glowed, immensely happy at showing off her daughter to her wives, planting a lot of snake tongue all over the front of Honoka’s face. “I’ll forward the game schedule to Diane. Jaya won’t know what to do with an entire cheer section in the stands.”
“We’ll make signs, wear face paint.” Honoka wiped her face clean. Although the monstrous peculiarities of her wives grew on her, Racial love remained a messy business.
“Ha! That’ll show those uppity Wimbledons!” Then the naga sagged, her hood drooping as she despondently led the way back into the house. “Aruna hasn’t returned home yet.”
“Is he alright? Do you know where he is?”
“I have no idea,” Padmava said, worry written all over her scaled face. “I’m only a little concerned - alright, a lot! - because this isn’t the first time he’s done this. When his father died, he delved thirty floors down and stayed away for five days. I hired a guild still friendly to me to track him and bring him home.”
“Does he have his phone?” Honoka asked, reaching up and putting her hand on one of Padmava’s warm arms.
The naga shook her head, opening the door to her bedroom and slithering in. “It isn’t that simple. Outside of Harvardtown and a few safe zones on some floors, Di-Fi doesn’t work in most of the dungeon. Communication is the hardest part of delving. And even if he did find a safe zone, he’s mad at me and probably turned his phone off.”
Honoka heard the tears behind the words, reaching around and hugging the large snakewoman’s waist. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it, ask and we’ll be there.”
“Thank you.” Padmava reached down and hugged back, the two of them taking their time to give and receive comfort.
“Changing the subject, Quinn’s been texting nonstop to the wives since you finished and I need to say, I’m a little jealous and frustrated,” Padmava said, locking the door and removing her robe. Underneath, the filled out a black longline strapless corset that mixed sheer with peekaboo lace in a kind of half-teddy style. The underwire did its job and both scaly breasts pressed together, all previously unnoticed because of the looseness of the robe. Honoka was so transfixed upon her tracts of land the black woman had to force her gaze downward to witness Padmava’s bare pussy. At the moment, only a slim purple slit, the woman not yet receiving any foreplay, but Honoka was eager to oblige.
“What are you jealous of?” Honoka asked honestly, leering and drooling a bit at those luscious breasts pressed so high and tight.
“If I’d known I wouldn’t receive any points when collected, I would have saved that tailjob for a later date.” Padmava coiled around Honoka and slithered behind her, using both sets of arms to take off the tank and PJs at the same time. “Now how am I supposed to break over forty points in just an hour?”
“You were mind-blowing, nothing wrong with a repeat performance.” Honoka had been mostly flaccid but a pair of hands reached around to caress her black cock to life.
“No, I understand the most important rule to a happy sex life is variety.” Guiding the black woman backward with her other set of hands, Honoka found herself lounging on a bed made of Padmava’s body, a few loose coils looping back around to keep her in place. The black hermaphrodite’s head was situated below those two glorious breasts, close enough to wear them as a hat.
Honoka couldn’t resist and reached up, groping over the corset and enjoying the feeling of the warm scales underneath. Padmava hissed out a moan, her forked tongue shooting down and licking along Honoka’s hands in appreciation.
“Do you know that I used to own a small shop before the Change and my family moved down here?” Padmava asked while she slowly lurched her body in the direction of the bathroom, keeping her hands busy along Honoka’s hard penis and the other hands lightly kneading her shoulders. “I was a licensed masseuse and had been trained by my family in ayurveda. Though there was nothing explicit done or offered, I played up the sex sells philosophy and called my place Kāma Sensual.”
“What’s ayurveda?” Now in the steaming bathroom, Honoka was washed over by the most relaxing combination of scents. The strongest was something Americans didn’t care for, the pungent burnt odor of sesame seed oil, followed by a musky, earthy smell and all of it emphasized with a sweet fruity floral. It didn’t seem like these would go together, but Honoka immediately felt relaxed and light.
“Ayurveda is an Indian way of bringing harmony between the body and nature. Strong scents, deep massages and oil rubs bringing healing and rejuvenation.” Padmava emphasized her spiel by taking a jug of oil that the smell came from and liberally coating Honoka’s naked body in it, then skillfully took her four hands and slowly worked it into Honoka’s dark skin. “With your temperament and…Racial peculiarities, I pegged you as possessing a strong Vata dominant dosha, or Air aligned energy type. Ashwagandha, licorice and passionflower in a sesame base should do wonders in bringing you back into balance.”
Honoka was already in love with this, noticing the difference in technique from other massages she previously experienced. Mostly, Padmava kept pouring the warm oil over her regularly, like the idea was to cleanse the body with the oil or use it to pull out the impurities in her body, the essence and odor filling her entirely and bringing her peace. The naga’s other three hands kneaded her tense muscles but also poking in strange ways, like not just her tissues but also nerves and bones got worked on. It was intense. Honoka turned to jelly as she lost what felt like hours to the sensations. Particular attention was given to Honoka’s scalp, and that head massage was so erotically charged Honoka moaned in pleasure while fifteen fingers danced and worked into every hair follicle. Neither was her penis forgotten, her shaft kept hard from the ministrations but only enough to bring her up to a point before other parts of her body were attended to.
“Now that you are nice and relaxed, let’s flip you over and work on your back.”
Honoka had become putty, smiling a dopey grin without realizing what flipping onto her front meant when the massage table was a woman, but her eyes opened wide when Padmava used her hands and tail to flip her around, easing Honoka in slowly to hilt herself all the way into the naga’s giant snatch. The oil Padmava used was a perfect lubricant, Honoka’s massive tool fitting in without any problems despite the naga’s only mild arousal. Honoka grew excited as she relished the differences, mostly in size but also feeling the warm scales all along the front of her body was blissful and inviting. Mainly, though, Honoka realized that not only were naga’s warm-blooded, but they must live at over a hundred degrees because her pussy wasn’t just warm, it boiled inside. If Honoka wasn’t slowly introduced to the warmth of the heated oil, she might have hissed and worried about burns. As it was, right now, it felt like Honoka was sixteen inches inside a jacuzzi while Padmava worked her ayurveda magic on Honoka’s backside.
“At the end of the day,” Padmava said, licking Honoka’s ear as she spoke softly and sensually, “when I think about how lucky I was to know my husband, I believe he would have liked to meet you.” The tensest parts of Honoka’s body were her shoulders and the naga worked them harder than anywhere else, eliciting groans that escaped from a primal place inside Honoka. “You are like him if you can believe it. Soft spoken, caring beyond measure, more concerned for others than is good for you. Passionate.”
Padmava did not move her hips, nor was Honoka moving at all, both locked in place as one woman, neither gyrating to the most carnal of dances. However, when Padmava said passionate, she clenched her vagina and then released, a simple motion that sent a shock into the chocolate futa. The naga’s warm hands continued their massage working and kneading every inch of her, even along the cameled folds of her labia majora, but only teasing around the outside, increasing her arousal gently without inflaming her to monumental need and lust. The whole effort slowly built from the start, like hiking the long trail up a mountain instead of a roller coaster screaming to the peak.
“I love my husband, he was such a generous man and an amazing father.” Another clench, longer this time, holding around Honoka’s now throbbing shaft, some precum already drooling out of the sides of Padmava’s pussy. “I honestly don’t know how I survived an entire year without him.”
Honoka barely paid attention, her body completely relaxed even as she felt herself climbing to an orgasm. It was a strange disconnect like her body was going to just let it happen instead of the usual frantic need and release. She really possessed no comparison to what she experienced, another clench and the tip of her knob flexed with a feeling that enveloped her entire body but didn’t cause her to contract, only her penis now regularly pumped at the base without any input from the rest of her body and she readied for the coming torrent.
“We talked about having another child, but he died before that happened.” Leaning down, her mouth next to Honoka’s as she clenched down one last time, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t take the potions.”
It was too late, Honoka’s hips giving an involuntary push downward as her semen shot into the hot hole and quickly flooded the tight chamber, spurting out in all directions over the naga’s scaled body. In a panic, Honoka tried to pull out, never mind being far too late. Padmava held onto her like a woman possessed and pushed the black woman even more inside, jizz spilling out like a broken fire hydrant.
“Yes! Give me your seed, give me a child!” Amid Honoka’s ongoing orgasm, the naga woman shuddered in her own climax, the idea of becoming pregnant enough to finish the MILF off.
Honoka was also - in the lizard part of her brain - aroused beyond caring at knowing this was going to lead to a baby. As if her penis understood such base thoughts, the volume of her cum increased and the two women became drenched while Honoka wrapped her arms around the waist of her wife and screamed a cry of joy and possessive need into her corseted bosom. A few minutes later, Honoka stopped cumming and the two lay there, on the stone floor, the white flood quickly absorbed by the dungeon.
Still riding off the emotional high, Honoka finally found the strength to lift her head up and look Padmava in the eye. She is so beautiful, Honoka thought, pulling her flaccid self out of Padmava’s hole and crawling up to give the naga a passionate kiss.
“Thank you,” Honoka said, running her hand along the generous, scaled mouth, “but you probably just made a lot of girls very angry.”
“They don’t know,” Padmava said with tears in her eyes, using her arms and tail to prop herself up and return the kiss with her tongue, “what it means to lose a spouse. Tomorrow could be too late.”
“Still, it might have been more politick to talk to them first.”
Padmava turned away, her scales glowing a little red in color when she blushed, gently guiding both of them to the large and steaming bath. “It wasn’t entirely without thinking about them. Nagas possess a little known ability similar to snakes: we can store sperm in our bodies for years before fertilizing an egg. Essentially, while you will eventually be responsible for impregnating me, it is my choice when that will happen.”
“That’s…” When they both entered the bath and soaked, Honoka burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. Padmava, still blushing, joined in quickly. Soon, the bathroom rung with laughter. This was how Diane found them when she came to announce Padmava was way over time and the succubus had a schedule to keep.
The Harmony Room was different, refurnished in Diane’s whirlwind of renovations. The bed remained the same, though the sheets looked fresh and more heavy-duty, feeling like layers of cloth but smelling like plastic with the crimson covers offering a bright sheen. A cabinet in one corner was filled with potions of all kinds, though most of them were the familiar paired vials of C&As. There was also a dancer’s pole to one side and a sex swing opposite it. One wall - looking like the tool collection of some mancave - held all the various massagers, dildos, vibrators, whips, leather straps and other toys Honoka had no name for even as she couldn’t fathom how they were used or where they went inside. Looking in the bathroom, she became immediately ecstatic to find her old power dildo machine installed in the shower with a TV fitted above, one of her old shower heads replacing the stock one previously there. The waterproof mattress was also present, but the stall wasn’t as large as the one in her old apartment so it leaned against a wall, ready to slide into place when needed.
“It was mostly Eve,” Quinn said, coming into the bathroom behind Honoka, wearing a loose button-up flannel shirt, open in the bottom to expose her curvy abdomen. Matching cutoff pajama bottoms finished the casual ensemble, her whiskers twitching as she motioned to the whole room with her head. “Me an’ Banda helped, but the greenie stayed up all night gettin’ it done. I’m surprised she’s still conscious at this point after two all-nighters.”
“Out like a light, snoring up a storm,” Banda interjected, ducking into the room with Diane. Banda lacked many options for sleepwear, wearing the same black gym shorts and massive sports bra Honoka remembered from the sleepover only a few nights before. When it came to Race, practical trumped fashion every time. The big holstaur girl covered a yawn with a large three-fingered hand before continuing. “As soon as I’m done here, I’m joining her.”
Diane looked Honoka up and down. “We need to buy you some breakaway pants or something,” the succubus commented, dressed in a tight green spaghetti tank with shamrocks on it and a pair of painted-on red yoga pants, so snug they looked vacuum-sealed into her every crevice, clearly wearing no panties at the moment. Her luscious fiery hair was tied up in a chopstick bun, she looked like the no-nonsense cougar that lived up the street, her glasses only adding to the allure.
Honoka sighed, thinking the same thing as she pulled down her roomy white cotton Men’s PJ bottoms, the spring of her erection flinging a few drops of precum across the room. As she pulled her white tank off, Honoka flopped on the bed and looked up at Banda with some concern. “Any idea what’s about to happen?”
“Just some videos on porn sites. No idea what this will do to you.” Banda pulled out her phone, checked it for a minute then put it away. Murmuring something Honoka missed, the holstaur’s hands radiated light and heat as she waved them over the sixteen inches of girl sausage erect between them. Honoka didn’t feel much other than a tingling warmth, maybe a little more flushed, but the effect became apparent when Banda pulled away and Honoka spurted a steady stream of premen down her shaft instead of the occasional dribble.
“All y’all will get a detailed report, now shoo!” Quinn put her empty vials in the cabinet and forcibly shoved a laughing Banda and Diane out of the room before shutting the door and locking it. Spinning around, the otter girl leered at the now worried Honoka before heading over to the Wall Of Toys and picking a massive egg insertion vibrator. A thin cord trailed out, Quinn plugging the device into the wall outlet - which was oddly recessed and had a plastic door that closed to keep it waterproofed - and moseyed over, fiddling with her phone.
“Most of the toys are Diane’s an’ Eve’s,” Quinn said, finishing with her phone and tapping it, a slight vibration coming from the egg, “but this here is mine. The most powerful model made by OhMiPussy, may I present the OhMiGeddon.” She tapped her phone again and held it, the egg shaking so hard in her hand she couldn’t stop her entire arm from moving. “BT synced, fifty to two hundred hertz, two separate displacement motors, the website advertises this baby as showing up on the Richter Scale.”
A little frightened, Honoka edged back along the bed, leaving a trailing river of her clear ooze. “I don’t know if you understand, but using that…”
“Diane told me everything,” Quinn replied, languidly crawling up on the bed like a predator to prey, her eyes smoldering while she crept closer. “She’s been givin’ all us girls lessons, homework, access to your porn folder.” That saucy tart! Honoka thought, yet Quinn stalked the futa-girl relentlessly. “What I think ya need ta learn about me is Beastkin aren’t as horny or nympho as succubi, but we’re close. Especially with our mates: its a Race thing.”
Honoka hit the headboard, unable to move any further back. Quinn’s smile widened, lightly pressed the egg against Honoka’s folds, tapping very gently on her phone. Honoka felt those vibrations from her pussy to her diaphragm, forcing a sharp intake of breath when she tensed. Quinn teased, moving it up and down her vulva, soaking it in her copious amounts of precum before slowly pushing it in. Unable to stop herself, Honoka clamped down, keeping it inside, but using two fingers, Quinn pushed it back to Honoka’s cervix before removing her hand and slowly licking fingers clean. Then she pulled away and tapped furiously on her phone.
At first, Honoka flinched sharply away, ready to die by vibrator. When nothing happened, it actually grew worse. The anticipation of it happening was a gnawing, building thing in Honoka’s mind, and after a full minute, the young black woman gasped for air from the anxiety of what would cum.
“There,” Quinn finally said while she tossed the phone, rolling onto her back and deftly slipping off her cutoff PJs, revealing a blue-yonder pair of damp, thin, fishnet/foil double-layered panties. “I set ‘Geddon to go off at intervals based on my playlist, each song’s rhythm, pitch an’ tone determinin’ what you’re going to experience. The volume is down to subsonic, so only I’ll be able to hear it. Ya won’t know what’ll hit ya.” The panties came off so fast Honoka thought this must be prom night, but the action gave Honoka a clear view of the girl’s broad, furry mons and bright pink slit underneath, her labia swollen and wet. Rolling back up, Quinn yanked her shirt open and tossed it to the side, her furry melons held high and tight with a matching blue-yonder fishnet/foil layered demi unlined bra. “The playlist is an hour long.”
*vrr vrr vrr*
The black hermaphrodite felt it within herself, barely a nudge, but she received no warning, gasping more in surprise as her thighs came together and clenched around the egg. Then nothing, her body wanting more. Just as she relaxed, it began again, stronger.
*vrrRRrr*
“Oh, my word!” Honoka’s hands spread out, the vibration throbbing inside her for just a moment as it climbed then ebbed, causing her to grasp the covers and claw at them, her whole body wanting more and trying to escape.
“That’s just the first notes,” Quinn whispered, her nose tickling Honoka’s ear. Then she leaned back and stood up on the bed, straddling across her wife’s chest, her thick tail moving back and forth across Honoka’s dick. “Ever tried Crab Position?”
Honoka hadn’t. Another buzz inside her cunt stopped her from saying anything and Quinn just went right into it, leaning back and impaling herself onto Honoka’s swollen tip. The otter girl wasn’t expecting something so large and thick, her scream filled with pain that she bit off before Honoka stopped her, the young girl easing the meaty knob in further and further with circular hip motions, whimpering as she dipped glacially slow down the veiny girth.
*VvrrRrrrrRRRrrrRRRRrrrrrrRRRrr*
At this point, Honoka lost a few seconds, her female orgasm cresting closer and higher as whatever song played picked up the pace, the egg moved to the beat without stopping. The tiny vibrator proved potent, shaking Honoka’s whole body with thumping movements and rattling her teeth. The beastkin girl slid a little past halfway along the shaft and picked up speed, a river of precum leaking out the sides providing ample lubrication as she relaxed and slid downward.
“…ya are definitely…” Quinn forced down another inch, groaning when she felt herself bottom out at thirteen inches. Honoka understood some anatomy. It must be because of Quinn’s extended abdomen, there was more room in the canal. Quinn continued after a sharp grunt, “…the biggest I’ve…ug…guess I can’t get you…sk…all the way…” The otter girl then bent back, scootching with her tail and arms straight behind her on the bed between Honoka’s spread legs, her own furry feet fitting under Honoka’s armpits, her body now at a forty-five-degree angle away from Honoka. The black woman, panting, her penis still in the otter girl, bent away from her new wife as they copulated. While Honoka experienced a little strain, it was lost in the feeling of her rod buried in the tight boiling sea of teenage pussy, the last few inches of exposed shaft brushing deftly against the silky fur of Quinn’s mons and thighs.
*vrr vrr vrr…vrvrvrvrvrvrvrvrvr*
The song changed tracks. For a moment of stillness, they both breathed, but just as the song picked up to something much faster-paced Quinn swung back and lunged her entire body forward, crushing the glans with her cervix, again, again, picking up pace until she moved with the same beat as the egg in Honoka’s twat pulsed. Quinn proved very athletic, suspending her body above Honoka’s with her arms, legs and tail, panting breaths exhaling ecstasy at being filled.
For three songs, she kept that up.
Honoka lacked the endurance to hold off during the first one, the fast-paced vibrations forcing her over the edge. She howled a silent cry as her back arched and tried to simultaneously pull in deeper and push out the egg as it continued unabated in her engorged vagina. By the second song, Honoka felt Quinn’s first orgasm, her tight cooch growing painfully cramped as rasping breaths exploded out of her lungs, ululating a kind of sing-song cry, though not slowing down a bit as she kept ramming up and down Honoka’s dark meat. The third song was the longest and Honoka crested into her second female coitus while Quinn slowed down and transitioned into a grinding motion, playing with her own clit in slow, sensuous motions.
“…hff…hff…y’all gotta work…on yer dirty talk…hff…” Quinn said, trying to catch her breath as she rested on her tail and shook her arms out to keep them from cramping. “I get ya not likin’ swears, but nothin’s as hot sometimes as bein’ told ya’s a dirty slut.”
“…never understood it…” Honoka replied, her body so close, straining to reach that second O but also feeling the impending storm building in her gut. “…why would I want to tell someone I love…that they’re a slut…?”
*vvvvvvvvRRRRRRVVVRRRRVVVVRRRRRVVVVRRRR*
Maybe Quinn responded to the question, but she never got to voice it as the egg switched to another song. This one was likely power metal because the intensity in her snatch turned up to DragonForce levels. Honoka fem-came for the second time. This arched her body upward, pushing the otter woman back with a yelp. The vibrations grew so strong they traveled up her shaft and the black woman reached her limit.
“Time to ride herd!” Quinn sensed it, the girth of Honoka’s penis swelling an extra inch from thirteen inches to fourteen, the contractions almost bucking her off, yet this was what the otter girl had been waiting for. Quickly, even as she felt the thick cylinder of Honoka’s urethra expand impossibly huge and stretching her to the point of pain, Quinn went backward flat on her back and clamped both her arms and legs around Honoka, digging her claws in without breaking skin but still making sure she remained as secure as possible for the coming tide.
“YOU DIRTY SLUT!!” Honoka did not know why she said that, thinking wasn’t something she had complete control of at that moment. It was something Quinn only asked her to do seconds ago, but it came out anyway when the opening tsunami flooded into Quinn. The beastkin’s cunt was already filled to capacity with dick, so the blowback sprayed a thick white wave washing over Honoka but also splattered plenty onto the furred beastkin. Honoka’s small abdomen contracted over and over - muscular contractions - painfully pushing more and more spunk out like she was giving birth to a swimming pool.
“Maximum effort!” Honoka had no idea what Quinn was doing, but the black woman felt the otter girl moving. “This is a lot harder than I thought.” Now Honoka was curious - as curious as a woman was in the middle of two orgasms could be - raising her head slightly and moving one arm limply in the way of the oncoming backsplash of cream to see.
Locked as they were in the Tug Of Love position, Quinn used her tail primarily to stay in place, but also her firm grip on Honoka’s body to frantically ride Honoka’s ejaculating shaft. The pressure was immense, so the otter girl let the hot stream push her up about six inches, then she would dig in with her claws and stop herself, using her tail to give her the leverage to push back. Each time Quinn performed the maneuver, the reservoir of cum in her snatch expelled in an inundating, squelching tide. The otter girl remained exhausted from earlier, yet she moved like a woman possessed, each motion picking up speed until she was pumping quicker in the more technically tricky Tug than she had been in the Crab.
Quinn reasoned human physiology did not apply to Honoka. Fountaining jizz from her cock as Honoka’s pussy contracted in alternating rhythm with her penis, the otter woman tried to force another orgasm out of the Beast before the first one finished.
This is madness, Honoka thought, her mind in a haze as she continued to dual cum. Something started happening that really shouldn’t have been possible: she felt a larger climax building. Panicking, Honoka tried to pull out, but her feeble attempts proved useless as her abdomen expanded rapidly with backed up love mayo, reaching the size of a basketball belly in seconds before Honoka reared back and let loose the dogs of war!
Fireworks shot in the black woman’s head, every muscle in her body seizing. Banda’s blessing held firm and she didn’t black out like she usually did. Not from lack of sensation, instead because her mind had been expanded and reinforced to experience more. Black spots covered her vision and her jaw locked up in rictus as the strength of her erection lifted Quinn off the bed. Then, the power of her ejaculation shot the otter woman off Honoka’s black staff like a bottle rocket. The futanari was shoved to the headboard and banged her head, her pelvis pushed deep into the covers and even tossing the black woman into a sitting position, some of the hot stream scraping against Honoka’s cheek while she plastering the ceiling.
Quinn came for a second time and smiled when she saw the batter baby growing in Honoka’s tummy, though no woman is ever prepared to shoot off another woman’s dick. Yelping in surprise when she lifted into the air from an erection, Quinn couldn’t ready herself while she flung tail over teakettle into the air - full ten on her aerial somersault - hitting the edge of the soaked bed then tumbling to the floor like a discarded wet noodle. Twitching a bit from post-coitus, she weakly moved a hand over her nose to prevent the waterfall of slime from the edge of the bed drowning her. A deluge of more splooge drizzled from the ceiling, her body screaming in pain from her recent tumble, Quinn softly giggled after the whole experience.
********************
“Booyah! Forty-one points!” Quinn used multiple colored dry-erase markers on the small whiteboard in Honoka’s and Diane’s common area, the reflective rectangle labeled High Score at the top. 41 was artfully drawn with plenty of flowers, embellishments and what looked like a cartoon otter sticking out her tongue and pulling down one eyelid. Quinn was soaked - in water right now - still dripping from her fur onto the stone and rugs while she danced in front of the board.
Because there were children in the complex, a no naked rule was enforced outside of locked rooms. Quinn had found her panties at the bottom of Lake Jizz and slapped them on before sauntering outside. “All y’all better get comfortable in second place ‘cause ain’t noneya gonna beat this!”
Honoka was conflicted. On the one hand, not blacking out from pain meant she experienced the euphoria and immense pleasure she usually feared before. The half-african futa-girl was also sore, but it was more a pleasant ache instead of jabbing pain. All around, it had been a stellar experience. Then Diane barged in, took one look at the room and went into the bathroom. She procured a hose and hooked it up to the shower with a handy attachment and sprayed the entire place down. Nothing and no woman was safe, both Honoka and Quinn sputtering clean obscenities as they weakly tried to escape, but Diane remained relentless. The succubus did pause when Quinn scooped up her phone from the floor, though.
For the first time, the black woman noticed - as she crawled across the wet floor - the rugs were taken out of the Harmony room in preparation for regular hosings. At least the water stayed hot, the place quickly steaming up as Honoka and Quinn grabbed towels and left. Right now, Honoka dozed while she recovered on some cushions, wrapped up in her towel completely - white tank and PJs from earlier clinging to her wet body underneath - and tried not to take it personally she was treated like a muddy puppy only a few minutes ago.
“I didn’t think of it, but we need a rotating cleanup schedule,” Diane announced as she walked into the commons, wet and trailing steam from the room, flicking bits of ceiling cum off her wings and unable to see through foggy glasses. “Thank goodness for the dungeon draining the hazmat, or else we’d soon be swimming in it.”
“I’ll put on a maid outfit, dust the furniture, cum on the chandelier.” Honoka tried for joking, but it came off a little biting.
Diane paused, wiping her glasses on her shirt and sitting next to Honoka on the cushions, giving her a hug and a kiss. “You ok?”
Honoka sighed, deflating as she snuggled into the hug. “Yeah. It is one thing to talk about doing this scheduled race to the harmonization finish line, but the reality of it is I feel like a jizz dispenser. I don’t want to, my brain knows better, but its what it feels like.” Honoka laughed, reaching out and hugging Diane tighter. “This is just round one of a hundred, already I’m getting cold feet?”
“If you don’t want to…”
“No.” Honoka disengaged and sat up, putting the towel under one arm but shuddering a little from the AC. “I agree this is the best way, every time I do this everyone becomes a little safer. If I need to flood this entire dungeon to keep everyone safe, I would. And besides,” Honoka said, walking over to Quinn - who still victory danced - and gave her a quick peck before heading out the door, “it is not like cumming is boring: orgasms are awesome. First world problems, amiright?”
Padmava was Honoka’s next appointment. Maybe thinking she would be able to dry off, the damp dark-skinned woman decided to walk outside. The wall of humidity and heat that assaulted her felt refreshing, warming her up while she sauntered across the courtyard, though it did little to make her less wet. Halfway across, Honoka regretted her decision as she slumped along, still worn out from her hat trick earlier and sweat mingling with her overall dampness.
How do people live without AC? Honoka asked herself, not even able to admire the architecture like she would ordinarily. She glanced around nervously as she walked now. Honoka couldn’t place it, and nothing seemed out of place or sounded abnormal, but she felt like she was being watched. Chalking it up to dungeon weirdness, the black woman hurried her pace and hurried inside the main building as quickly as she possible.
“Moooooom! Where’s my stick?!”
Honoka dodged out of the way of a speeding green train, Jaya rushing past wearing athletic goggles and a white jersey uniform with a red number eleven on it.
“Hi, Honoka mom! Bye!” Then the energetic child disappeared around a corner before Honoka said anything.
“Here is your stick!” Padmava entered the room, two hands on one side holding a large yellow lacrosse stick, waving it around. Jaya came back, grabbing the stick and giving a quick hug and snakey tongue kiss on her mother’s cheek before scooping up a surprised Honoka and receiving the same snake tongue on her own cheek, the kid waving while she zoomed out the door.
Honoka wasn’t expecting the affection, but as she wiped the copious saliva off her face, she smiled and warmed inside. Is this what it feels like to raise a child? Honoka asked herself, enjoying the emotions.
“All the kids are homeschooled down here, though only the Lair has any significant underage population.” Padmava wore a gold silk robe with small black designs lining the edges, folding both sets of arms while she watched her daughter cross the courtyard at the same speed as a car. “An enterprising young man formed a sports club. He is making money hand over fist because every parent is desperate to toss their kids out of the house and someplace safe for a few hours every day.”
“I’d like to watch any games she plays in, if that’s ok,” Honoka said, also following the girl when she opened the front gate and slithered out. “I’m sure the rest of the girls would like to as well.”
Padmava practically glowed, immensely happy at showing off her daughter to her wives, planting a lot of snake tongue all over the front of Honoka’s face. “I’ll forward the game schedule to Diane. Jaya won’t know what to do with an entire cheer section in the stands.”
“We’ll make signs, wear face paint.” Honoka wiped her face clean. Although the monstrous peculiarities of her wives grew on her, Racial love remained a messy business.
“Ha! That’ll show those uppity Wimbledons!” Then the naga sagged, her hood drooping as she despondently led the way back into the house. “Aruna hasn’t returned home yet.”
“Is he alright? Do you know where he is?”
“I have no idea,” Padmava said, worry written all over her scaled face. “I’m only a little concerned - alright, a lot! - because this isn’t the first time he’s done this. When his father died, he delved thirty floors down and stayed away for five days. I hired a guild still friendly to me to track him and bring him home.”
“Does he have his phone?” Honoka asked, reaching up and putting her hand on one of Padmava’s warm arms.
The naga shook her head, opening the door to her bedroom and slithering in. “It isn’t that simple. Outside of Harvardtown and a few safe zones on some floors, Di-Fi doesn’t work in most of the dungeon. Communication is the hardest part of delving. And even if he did find a safe zone, he’s mad at me and probably turned his phone off.”
Honoka heard the tears behind the words, reaching around and hugging the large snakewoman’s waist. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it, ask and we’ll be there.”
“Thank you.” Padmava reached down and hugged back, the two of them taking their time to give and receive comfort.
“Changing the subject, Quinn’s been texting nonstop to the wives since you finished and I need to say, I’m a little jealous and frustrated,” Padmava said, locking the door and removing her robe. Underneath, the filled out a black longline strapless corset that mixed sheer with peekaboo lace in a kind of half-teddy style. The underwire did its job and both scaly breasts pressed together, all previously unnoticed because of the looseness of the robe. Honoka was so transfixed upon her tracts of land the black woman had to force her gaze downward to witness Padmava’s bare pussy. At the moment, only a slim purple slit, the woman not yet receiving any foreplay, but Honoka was eager to oblige.
“What are you jealous of?” Honoka asked honestly, leering and drooling a bit at those luscious breasts pressed so high and tight.
“If I’d known I wouldn’t receive any points when collected, I would have saved that tailjob for a later date.” Padmava coiled around Honoka and slithered behind her, using both sets of arms to take off the tank and PJs at the same time. “Now how am I supposed to break over forty points in just an hour?”
“You were mind-blowing, nothing wrong with a repeat performance.” Honoka had been mostly flaccid but a pair of hands reached around to caress her black cock to life.
“No, I understand the most important rule to a happy sex life is variety.” Guiding the black woman backward with her other set of hands, Honoka found herself lounging on a bed made of Padmava’s body, a few loose coils looping back around to keep her in place. The black hermaphrodite’s head was situated below those two glorious breasts, close enough to wear them as a hat.
Honoka couldn’t resist and reached up, groping over the corset and enjoying the feeling of the warm scales underneath. Padmava hissed out a moan, her forked tongue shooting down and licking along Honoka’s hands in appreciation.
“Do you know that I used to own a small shop before the Change and my family moved down here?” Padmava asked while she slowly lurched her body in the direction of the bathroom, keeping her hands busy along Honoka’s hard penis and the other hands lightly kneading her shoulders. “I was a licensed masseuse and had been trained by my family in ayurveda. Though there was nothing explicit done or offered, I played up the sex sells philosophy and called my place Kāma Sensual.”
“What’s ayurveda?” Now in the steaming bathroom, Honoka was washed over by the most relaxing combination of scents. The strongest was something Americans didn’t care for, the pungent burnt odor of sesame seed oil, followed by a musky, earthy smell and all of it emphasized with a sweet fruity floral. It didn’t seem like these would go together, but Honoka immediately felt relaxed and light.
“Ayurveda is an Indian way of bringing harmony between the body and nature. Strong scents, deep massages and oil rubs bringing healing and rejuvenation.” Padmava emphasized her spiel by taking a jug of oil that the smell came from and liberally coating Honoka’s naked body in it, then skillfully took her four hands and slowly worked it into Honoka’s dark skin. “With your temperament and…Racial peculiarities, I pegged you as possessing a strong Vata dominant dosha, or Air aligned energy type. Ashwagandha, licorice and passionflower in a sesame base should do wonders in bringing you back into balance.”
Honoka was already in love with this, noticing the difference in technique from other massages she previously experienced. Mostly, Padmava kept pouring the warm oil over her regularly, like the idea was to cleanse the body with the oil or use it to pull out the impurities in her body, the essence and odor filling her entirely and bringing her peace. The naga’s other three hands kneaded her tense muscles but also poking in strange ways, like not just her tissues but also nerves and bones got worked on. It was intense. Honoka turned to jelly as she lost what felt like hours to the sensations. Particular attention was given to Honoka’s scalp, and that head massage was so erotically charged Honoka moaned in pleasure while fifteen fingers danced and worked into every hair follicle. Neither was her penis forgotten, her shaft kept hard from the ministrations but only enough to bring her up to a point before other parts of her body were attended to.
“Now that you are nice and relaxed, let’s flip you over and work on your back.”
Honoka had become putty, smiling a dopey grin without realizing what flipping onto her front meant when the massage table was a woman, but her eyes opened wide when Padmava used her hands and tail to flip her around, easing Honoka in slowly to hilt herself all the way into the naga’s giant snatch. The oil Padmava used was a perfect lubricant, Honoka’s massive tool fitting in without any problems despite the naga’s only mild arousal. Honoka grew excited as she relished the differences, mostly in size but also feeling the warm scales all along the front of her body was blissful and inviting. Mainly, though, Honoka realized that not only were naga’s warm-blooded, but they must live at over a hundred degrees because her pussy wasn’t just warm, it boiled inside. If Honoka wasn’t slowly introduced to the warmth of the heated oil, she might have hissed and worried about burns. As it was, right now, it felt like Honoka was sixteen inches inside a jacuzzi while Padmava worked her ayurveda magic on Honoka’s backside.
“At the end of the day,” Padmava said, licking Honoka’s ear as she spoke softly and sensually, “when I think about how lucky I was to know my husband, I believe he would have liked to meet you.” The tensest parts of Honoka’s body were her shoulders and the naga worked them harder than anywhere else, eliciting groans that escaped from a primal place inside Honoka. “You are like him if you can believe it. Soft spoken, caring beyond measure, more concerned for others than is good for you. Passionate.”
Padmava did not move her hips, nor was Honoka moving at all, both locked in place as one woman, neither gyrating to the most carnal of dances. However, when Padmava said passionate, she clenched her vagina and then released, a simple motion that sent a shock into the chocolate futa. The naga’s warm hands continued their massage working and kneading every inch of her, even along the cameled folds of her labia majora, but only teasing around the outside, increasing her arousal gently without inflaming her to monumental need and lust. The whole effort slowly built from the start, like hiking the long trail up a mountain instead of a roller coaster screaming to the peak.
“I love my husband, he was such a generous man and an amazing father.” Another clench, longer this time, holding around Honoka’s now throbbing shaft, some precum already drooling out of the sides of Padmava’s pussy. “I honestly don’t know how I survived an entire year without him.”
Honoka barely paid attention, her body completely relaxed even as she felt herself climbing to an orgasm. It was a strange disconnect like her body was going to just let it happen instead of the usual frantic need and release. She really possessed no comparison to what she experienced, another clench and the tip of her knob flexed with a feeling that enveloped her entire body but didn’t cause her to contract, only her penis now regularly pumped at the base without any input from the rest of her body and she readied for the coming torrent.
“We talked about having another child, but he died before that happened.” Leaning down, her mouth next to Honoka’s as she clenched down one last time, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t take the potions.”
It was too late, Honoka’s hips giving an involuntary push downward as her semen shot into the hot hole and quickly flooded the tight chamber, spurting out in all directions over the naga’s scaled body. In a panic, Honoka tried to pull out, never mind being far too late. Padmava held onto her like a woman possessed and pushed the black woman even more inside, jizz spilling out like a broken fire hydrant.
“Yes! Give me your seed, give me a child!” Amid Honoka’s ongoing orgasm, the naga woman shuddered in her own climax, the idea of becoming pregnant enough to finish the MILF off.
Honoka was also - in the lizard part of her brain - aroused beyond caring at knowing this was going to lead to a baby. As if her penis understood such base thoughts, the volume of her cum increased and the two women became drenched while Honoka wrapped her arms around the waist of her wife and screamed a cry of joy and possessive need into her corseted bosom. A few minutes later, Honoka stopped cumming and the two lay there, on the stone floor, the white flood quickly absorbed by the dungeon.
Still riding off the emotional high, Honoka finally found the strength to lift her head up and look Padmava in the eye. She is so beautiful, Honoka thought, pulling her flaccid self out of Padmava’s hole and crawling up to give the naga a passionate kiss.
“Thank you,” Honoka said, running her hand along the generous, scaled mouth, “but you probably just made a lot of girls very angry.”
“They don’t know,” Padmava said with tears in her eyes, using her arms and tail to prop herself up and return the kiss with her tongue, “what it means to lose a spouse. Tomorrow could be too late.”
“Still, it might have been more politick to talk to them first.”
Padmava turned away, her scales glowing a little red in color when she blushed, gently guiding both of them to the large and steaming bath. “It wasn’t entirely without thinking about them. Nagas possess a little known ability similar to snakes: we can store sperm in our bodies for years before fertilizing an egg. Essentially, while you will eventually be responsible for impregnating me, it is my choice when that will happen.”
“That’s…” When they both entered the bath and soaked, Honoka burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. Padmava, still blushing, joined in quickly. Soon, the bathroom rung with laughter. This was how Diane found them when she came to announce Padmava was way over time and the succubus had a schedule to keep.
