Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
The last time he had been to his home world—before the Darklings took over—T’zaren had seen such a trial. A female had caused the Sen Stripes of three different males to flare and of course it was her prerogative to choose which one she wanted. She had lined them up, seated on chairs with their naked, hard shafts sticking up, and had tested each in turn by sitting in his lap and allowing his shaft to sink deep in her pussy.
In this case, the female in question had been facing the males and allowing their primary shafts to fill her, while the secondary shafts teased her Goddess pearl. She had taken her time choosing, riding each male to test his endurance. If a male came—shooting his seed in her pussy—he was automatically disqualified. This happened to two of the contestants and it was the third male that the female chose to be her mate.
He alone had been able to withstand her sweet, sucking pussy milking his shaft as she rode him and let her breasts with their tight nipples bounce in his face. And thus he had been proclaimed the winner and had been able to claim her as his S’rentha while the other two had to go home in shame.
The fact that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming shamed T’zaren as well. He should have been able to hold out, he told himself—no matter how vigorously the entropy chair caused him to fuck the little blonde, he should have been able to stop himself from coming and filling her with his cream.
Yet he hadn’t been able to stop—Lucille had the sweetest, hottest, tightest pussy he’d ever felt and all he wanted was to fill her up again and again and bond her to him so he could go on doing it forever…
Stop it—what are you thinking? he asked himself. She can’t be your S’rentha—not really. You must stop thinking this way about her—stop feeling the need to claim her and possess her and serve her!
And yet the feelings continued to intrude, no matter how he tried to stop them. T’zaren tried to tell himself he was only feeling this way for the little female because his secondary shaft was still buried deep in her pussy…but he couldn’t quite make himself believe it.
He was beginning to have very strong feelings for the curvy little human in his lap and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop them.
TWENTY-EIGHT
LUCY
As it turned out, fleur’igan soup looked a lot like high quality olive oil. It was thick and viscous and clear with a slightly greenish tint to it. It wasn’t particularly hot either, which made Lucy wonder why Lady Twa’linda had been so anxious for it to get to the table before it “spoiled.”
One ate the soup using a long glass straw and the flavor reminded Lucy of wheatgrass juice, which wasn’t her favorite. Still, she sipped it politely as Lady Twa’linda chattered on about how rare it was and how difficult it was to get the ingredients.
Lucy nodded and smiled but all the while she felt like her pussy was getting hotter and more and more achy and swollen. What in the world was wrong with her? She didn’t dare to look down between her legs but she was extremely conscious of the fact that T’zaren’s thick shaft was still shoved all the way in her to the root, probably leaking more of that warming cream he had filled her with so copiously at the beginning of the meal.
She wished she could wiggle and try to get more comfortable, but she was well aware that might make him come in her again. So she sipped her soup through the clear glass straw and tried to smile and make polite conversation and ignore the fact that her clit with throbbing and her pussy was stuffed with the big Monstrum’s enormous cock.
Lucy was about to take another sip of her soup when she saw something strange was happening in the deep tureen the server had placed in front of her. Little black spots were appearing on the surface of the soup—little black blobs that looked like balsamic vinegar floating in olive oil, she thought.
“What are those?” she asked, using her straw to point at the black blobs.
“Oh, dear!” Lady Twa’linda sighed and put down her own straw. “They’re coming up in mine as well. Put your straw down, my dear—the soup is officially spoiled.”
“But what is it?” Lucy asked, frowning. “I mean, I don’t understand—how could the soup get ‘spoiled’ so fast when they just brought it out to us a few minutes ago?”
“Oh it has to do with the fleur’igans themselves—the tiny, microscopic creatures the soup is made of,” Lady Twa’linda explained.
“Uh…tiny microscopic creatures?” Lucy asked, feeling sick. “Seriously?”