Retribution The Grandparents Turn
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Priapus free porn video
February bought the painting on a Monday. On Tuesday she wondered whether it was suffering from moisture damage, and made a note to take it back to the painter for tips. On Wednesday she realized that she was dealing with something very, very odd, and held off on a trip to the painter. On Thursday, she started liking what she saw. By Saturday she had big secret that she wouldn’t share with anybody. By Sunday she knew she could use some help.
She bought it from a roadside artist, whom she praised for some of his pieces. Then he told her that if she really wanted his best pieces, he could show them to her in secret. He didn’t usually show those on the street, for a whole variety of reasons.
When she visited his shop, she knew why he didn't sell his best pieces. They would have been called pornography by people in public. They were all very artistic, in spite of their intensely carnal content, and one among them, in particular, called to her.
She told only Lauren, her best friend, about the painting, and both women went through an exchange that was one part consternation and two parts lasciviousness, although they pretended that it was two parts consternation and one part lasciviousness, in the interests of decorum.
Then Lauren joined her with her secret, and they spent the next week enjoying a very weird and a very paranormal fantasy between them and the painting. Then, they had to tell someone else. It was just too much to hold in. So they told their book club friend Anna.
And so it went, until a whole coterie of women were ensnared in the most lusty of fantasies.
The painting itself was done in the style of the Renaissance, and it was a painting that was titled ‘Priapus and the nymphs’. It was a scene that screamed schizophrenia. It was binary as things get. The left half was set in the forest, and right half in an open palace room that opened into the forest.
A half dozen women with milk white complexions were in different poses on the richly brocaded silks that covered palace divans on the right. Some supine, some recumbent, some standing, and some sitting and leaning forward. They were amply proportioned, according to the tastes of the times. Beauty standards in those times called for women to be plump, with broad hips and enough flesh on them for their husbands and mother in laws to think that childbirth would be a safe proposition. A whole army of pink nipples winked back at the viewer from the right half of the painting. The women were all partly draped in garments of different colors, whose purpose in the painter’s mind appeared to be to suggest their impending absence. All the women appeared either astonished, or lascivious or both.
On the left hand side of the painting, in the untamed wilds of the forest, stood one man. His skin was a gleaming bronze, and he had a handsome, regal face, with a luxuriant black beard framing it. He had a curly black mane that made him almost look like a lion. He sported a wicked smile showing his gleaming teeth. His upper body was fully draped in what looked like a tawny colored animal fur. A few feral sheep and goats milled about around him, and a cloud of honey bees formed a halo behind his head.
From the waist down he was buck naked, shamelessly displaying his most distinguishing feature - his gigantic bronze cock. His cock was completely out of proportion with the rest of his body, and was erect, and pointed towards the palatial room on the right. It was at least as long as his legs, from the length of it. Two giant, hairy testicles were affixed to its base. It appeared to be the reason for the consternation and lasciviousness of the women on the right. Some would argue this was a good reason by any measure.
It was for his genitalia that February bought the painting. She took one look at that eternally swollen cock made from oil paint, and decided that she wanted this painting in her bedroom. It was good for the morale of her loins. It appeared to be whispering to her, asking her to purchase it.
When she got home to hang up the painting, she read up the subject of the painting, Priapus, and found out that he was a minor rustic fertility God who was supposed by some to be the son of Aphrodite and Dionysus. She heard that travelers used to gain the favor of Priapus by rubbing the cock on his statues. What works for statues works for paintings, she thought, and so she rubbed his penis in the painting, gently, in case the oil paint was ruined.
The next day, a Tuesday, she noticed that the painting had developed what appeared to be a fold. Like wet paper that has dried out, and has billows since the fiber within the paper has soaked in the moisture. February suspected that something similar was happening with the painting, even though it was on canvas and not on paper.
The fold appeared along the length of Priapus cock, the very portion of the painting she had rubbed. Perhaps it was the bloody moisture from her body. She was worried, because his cock and balls were the best feature of the painting. So she determined to herself that she would take the painting back to its painter the next morning.
The next day she realized the supernatural nature of what she was witnessing. Only the entire length of Priapus shaft, and his balls, were emerging from the painting. They stood out like a mid-relief sculpture, very three dimensional, and very deliberate, as if the artist had intended precisely this. February was filled with a mixture of awe for how magnificent the cock looked as it emerged from the painting. She rubbed it a couple of times again, and then held herself back, wondering whether her rubbing it could indeed damage the painting. Perhaps her rubbing it was responsible for the emergence of the cock and balls into the three dimensional world.
She didn't really figure it out, and put off the trip to the painter, deciding instead to witness what happened next. The next day, a Thursday, the cock was like a high-relief sculpture. It was still fully joined to the painting, but had emerged enough that she could see the pink head of the cock, peeping out from foreskin that was straining to restrain it. She rubbed the foreskin, and was surprised at how flesh like it felt. She rubbed it again, feeling her cunt heat up in response to the touch, and then decided that she’d await the full emergence of the cock from the painting.
On Friday, the needful happened. The entire cock had come out of the painting. It was hard, felt like a rigid cock, and was pulsing, and full of life. It was still parallel to the surface of the painting, and the balls were in high-relief now. February rubbed them also, wondering whether the God would emerge from the painting as the days passed. February then licked the head of the God’s penis with her tongue, marveling at its sheer size and the audacity of whomsoever dreamed up Priapus himself.
On Saturday, his balls were fully three dimensional, and February couldn’t restrain herself anymore. She came home in the evening from her day job as a pharmacist and ran into her bedroom. The cock was now pointing at a right angle to the painting, waiting to invade one or another orifice. She started, seeing that the dark God had turned and was facing her, his eyes glinting with salacious evil.
She felt a compulsion within, and wolfed the cock down. She took it into her mouth, and found that the head of the cock barely fit when she opened her lips as wide as she could. She strained and somehow took the head inside her mouth. She slid herself along its shaft, the best she could, but started gagging when she took a third of the cock inside. This cock was meant for the mouths of giantesses.
By Sunday she had spent nearly twenty hours with that giant cock. She had taken it in her mouth, and in her cunt. She had even been brave enough to rub her buttocks against it, but she knew that she would be bleeding severely from her anus if she even entertained the idea of anal penetration. So she continued using the cock of the God to scratch that ever present itch in her cunt. It barely fit inside her cunt the first dozen attempts, but she sat on it, and forced it just an inch deeper each time, and crooned in pleasure at how full she felt. When cock fills a woman, she indeed realizes the importance of size.
She wanted to make Priapus discharge his divine essence, but nothing really worked. She had been reaching orgasm for days with his cock, and while plenty of precum dripped from it, and it was always well lubricated, she could never quite make the God cum. So it became an obsession with her, and she labored every weekend with his cock.
She put in her hours at the CVS where she worked, but stayed only barely able to hold her attention together when working. The painting, and Priapus, filled her mind and called forth unbidden all manner of fantasies inside her. She wondered whether her co-workers could tell that she was perpetually horny, but she didn’t really have as much of a hold on her fantasies anymore, with the painting in her house, and that massive cock just waiting for her attention.
February started guarding her lone time preciously, and called her girlfriends less for the next few weeks. She would find some way to get out of any and all social engagements, so that she could simply spend all her time with the painting. It was perhaps psychologically sick to do so, but she was beyond caring.
She allowed Lauren and some of her girlfriends to come and have turns enjoying the painting and playing with the cock that was fast emerging from it, but everyone else was persona non grata.
Exactly two months from the day she had bought the painting, she lay in her bed, trying not to look at the painting. A long day and lots of Cabernet helped her stay firm in that decision, and she would have fallen asleep if she hadn’t heard the oddest noise. It was low, throaty sound, that sounded like it was two thirds a choke and one third a growl. She froze. There was something in her room.
She heard the sound of hooves. And then a bristly mouth was thrust into hers. That something was kissing her. She was alarmed and tried to push it back. In her alarm, her right arm fumbled for something to use as a weapon, and hit the lamp switch. The lamp came on, and her eyes widened in shock.
It was him. He was no longer bound by the painting. His bronzed face and his luxuriant beard were right in her face. She didn’t have the recourse to look at the rest of him, since he was right there in her face, demanding her lips and attention. She looked in his eyes, and felt a wave of lust swamp her. They were hypnotic and blacker than coals. When the kiss ended a minute later, she was in three minds. One mind wanted her to call for help. One mind wanted someone to pinch her so she could wake up and go on with normal living. The third part, which was fully in control, was entirely in lust with him. She wanted to eat him up, suck him dry, fuck him silly, all of the above times twenty.
He was a few inches shorter than her, but he was randier than an army of billy goats, and as sexy as any man she’d lusted after. The bronzed muscles had the natural look of someone who works for a living, and not the artificial look of a steroid hungry bodybuilder. She kissed him this time, savoring his full lips, and feeling his powerful pectorals flattening her breasts. She felt his rock hard member pressing between her thighs. It wasn’t in her yet, and besides it was too large to enter her without entirely damaging her reproductive system. She felt panic mixed in with her lust. What if he should attempt to enter her? She would probably die. Or her uterus would be so thoroughly damaged that she could never bear a baby.
Lust took over before she could follow these thoughts. His hypnotic eyes sucked her mind right back into lust. She didn’t know when she had wanted to make love so badly. Not even her first time compared with this delicious feeling of wanton desire that danced inside her. She devoured his mouth, and felt his iron member against her thighs. She wanted to put her mouth on it, and find some way to make this God cum. But she wasn't running the show. He was.
He lifted her out of the bed, turned her around, and threw her back on the bed, so that she was on her knees. Then he took her doggy style. He didn’t and couldn’t fully enter her cunt with his massive member, but he thrust the head of his penis in there. She gasped, and bit her lips. She was full just from that purple head. He moved forward and she moaned and panicked for a moment. If he tried going deeper, he would tear her open. He seemed to know this. He had experienced tighter cunts than hers, but she didn’t know this. He thrust forward, expertly taking care to make her feel full, but not tearing her open so that she was damaged.
She heard his grunts. Guttural. Harsh. More beast than man. Yet they were intensely erotic. She had never heard more arousing noises in her life. It was as if sex had its own language, and he spoke it. In more ways than one.
He turned her around, and pushed her to her knees, and placed the head of his penis against her lips. She couldn’t wrap her lips around it, but she tried the best she could, nibbling one way and then another. His fiery eyes held her own, as though he were radiating electric pulses of lust into her. She felt herself tingle as she looked at him, trying to lick his penis the best she could. She took some initiative, and pulled it up, and her saliva dribbled down his giant shaft. She bent further, and sucked each of his gigantic testicles, enjoying the abrasive feel of the hair matted against them.
He let her do her thing for a few minutes, and then lifted her by taking her chin gently in his hand, and guiding her up. He kissed her mouth, and she felt giddier than a teenager making out for the first time. She felt a pulse of hormones inundating her body, asking her to lose control, which had become a thing of the past anyway. His tongue was on hers, and she felt his penis against her thighs.
He lifted it, and placed the head inside her vagina. He thrust forward and she felt full to bursting. He started thrusting, as gently as she could, and she felt uncomfortably full in her cunt, and her orgasm started building inside her. He thrust a little deeper each time, and she felt tingling pain as her cunt was torn open more than it ever had been. Her juices built up inside her, and Priapus’ visage and body made her lust rocket into the ionosphere.
Then he thrust a few inches more than she could take, and she felt the head of his penis buried inside her, against her womb. She felt herself exploding inside, quivering, as she gripped him with a violence that had never been part of her life. She felt as though she her entire womb was full. She saw a wild gleam in his eyes. After several days of teasing, sucking, titillating, and finally fucking, his eyes bespoke his impending climax. She was going to make the God cum, and she felt a pride added to her mad lust as orgasm swamped her.
She didn’t know what Priapus ejaculation would be like. His guttural grunts became louder, almost like screams, and she felt something molten gushing into her. If she felt full earlier, she felt full to bursting now, as a steady sea of thicker than gel semen filled her. She backed away instinctively, knowing she was already full, and his penis leaped out, gushing forth a torrent of white. Priapus had the same gleam in his eyes, as thick quarts of semen shot out against her belly, and as he angled his penis upward, she felt a geyser of molten cum hitting her forehead, and drenching her.
She closed her eyes and tried to duck, but there was no escape. He was a God, after all. She felt stream after stream of thick cum falling all over her, drenching her hair, and covering her breasts. She fell to her knees, and understood that the God had a lot more to give. Just when she thought he was done, a new sea of juices erupted from his member, giving her another shower.
It didn’t end for many hours, and February felt a lightheadedness as it went on. Every time she felt his cum, she felt hornier still, and the lust that usually lessens after orgasm came over her again. She was bathed in semen many times over. Semen dripped from her hair, and a thick coat of semen covered every inch of her skin. She had a belly full of semen. Then she lost consciousness.
Ending one (Happy ending)
When she came to, she was clean. Absolutely clean, and in her bed. The God was back in the painting, which was no different from when she had bought it. She knew that something had happened, however, and she felt very different for some reason.
Later that week, she started throwing up. Intense nausea gripped her in the morning, and she was frightened for her life. She went to her regular OBGYN, Dr. Gupta. Dr. Gupta ran all the tests, and gave her the news.
February couldn’t believe it. All the tests indicated it, but it was impossible. She was having a baby!
She had had herself tested many times. Her tubes were defective. She wanted motherhood, but she could never have a baby. So, she distracted herself with erotic fantasies instead. Now, she was having a baby. She felt a peace she had never felt in the past. She now wondered if the gleam in the God’s eye was something far superior to lust. Some call it love.
Ending two (Horror ending)
When she came to, she was clean. She was in a forest. There was thick foliage all around, and she called out to no one in particular. She heard a voice in the distance, speaking antiquated English.
She walked in the direction of the voice, calling out at intervals to get the direction right. In a few minutes, she emerged in a clearing in the foliage. She reeled from what she saw. It was the same army of women, voluptuous, their nipples winking at her. He was there in the midst of them, with that same gleam in his eye. She felt her mind slipping again, as she felt the fire of lust possess her body.
She bought it from a roadside artist, whom she praised for some of his pieces. Then he told her that if she really wanted his best pieces, he could show them to her in secret. He didn’t usually show those on the street, for a whole variety of reasons.
When she visited his shop, she knew why he didn't sell his best pieces. They would have been called pornography by people in public. They were all very artistic, in spite of their intensely carnal content, and one among them, in particular, called to her.
She told only Lauren, her best friend, about the painting, and both women went through an exchange that was one part consternation and two parts lasciviousness, although they pretended that it was two parts consternation and one part lasciviousness, in the interests of decorum.
Then Lauren joined her with her secret, and they spent the next week enjoying a very weird and a very paranormal fantasy between them and the painting. Then, they had to tell someone else. It was just too much to hold in. So they told their book club friend Anna.
And so it went, until a whole coterie of women were ensnared in the most lusty of fantasies.
The painting itself was done in the style of the Renaissance, and it was a painting that was titled ‘Priapus and the nymphs’. It was a scene that screamed schizophrenia. It was binary as things get. The left half was set in the forest, and right half in an open palace room that opened into the forest.
A half dozen women with milk white complexions were in different poses on the richly brocaded silks that covered palace divans on the right. Some supine, some recumbent, some standing, and some sitting and leaning forward. They were amply proportioned, according to the tastes of the times. Beauty standards in those times called for women to be plump, with broad hips and enough flesh on them for their husbands and mother in laws to think that childbirth would be a safe proposition. A whole army of pink nipples winked back at the viewer from the right half of the painting. The women were all partly draped in garments of different colors, whose purpose in the painter’s mind appeared to be to suggest their impending absence. All the women appeared either astonished, or lascivious or both.
On the left hand side of the painting, in the untamed wilds of the forest, stood one man. His skin was a gleaming bronze, and he had a handsome, regal face, with a luxuriant black beard framing it. He had a curly black mane that made him almost look like a lion. He sported a wicked smile showing his gleaming teeth. His upper body was fully draped in what looked like a tawny colored animal fur. A few feral sheep and goats milled about around him, and a cloud of honey bees formed a halo behind his head.
From the waist down he was buck naked, shamelessly displaying his most distinguishing feature - his gigantic bronze cock. His cock was completely out of proportion with the rest of his body, and was erect, and pointed towards the palatial room on the right. It was at least as long as his legs, from the length of it. Two giant, hairy testicles were affixed to its base. It appeared to be the reason for the consternation and lasciviousness of the women on the right. Some would argue this was a good reason by any measure.
It was for his genitalia that February bought the painting. She took one look at that eternally swollen cock made from oil paint, and decided that she wanted this painting in her bedroom. It was good for the morale of her loins. It appeared to be whispering to her, asking her to purchase it.
When she got home to hang up the painting, she read up the subject of the painting, Priapus, and found out that he was a minor rustic fertility God who was supposed by some to be the son of Aphrodite and Dionysus. She heard that travelers used to gain the favor of Priapus by rubbing the cock on his statues. What works for statues works for paintings, she thought, and so she rubbed his penis in the painting, gently, in case the oil paint was ruined.
The next day, a Tuesday, she noticed that the painting had developed what appeared to be a fold. Like wet paper that has dried out, and has billows since the fiber within the paper has soaked in the moisture. February suspected that something similar was happening with the painting, even though it was on canvas and not on paper.
The fold appeared along the length of Priapus cock, the very portion of the painting she had rubbed. Perhaps it was the bloody moisture from her body. She was worried, because his cock and balls were the best feature of the painting. So she determined to herself that she would take the painting back to its painter the next morning.
The next day she realized the supernatural nature of what she was witnessing. Only the entire length of Priapus shaft, and his balls, were emerging from the painting. They stood out like a mid-relief sculpture, very three dimensional, and very deliberate, as if the artist had intended precisely this. February was filled with a mixture of awe for how magnificent the cock looked as it emerged from the painting. She rubbed it a couple of times again, and then held herself back, wondering whether her rubbing it could indeed damage the painting. Perhaps her rubbing it was responsible for the emergence of the cock and balls into the three dimensional world.
She didn't really figure it out, and put off the trip to the painter, deciding instead to witness what happened next. The next day, a Thursday, the cock was like a high-relief sculpture. It was still fully joined to the painting, but had emerged enough that she could see the pink head of the cock, peeping out from foreskin that was straining to restrain it. She rubbed the foreskin, and was surprised at how flesh like it felt. She rubbed it again, feeling her cunt heat up in response to the touch, and then decided that she’d await the full emergence of the cock from the painting.
On Friday, the needful happened. The entire cock had come out of the painting. It was hard, felt like a rigid cock, and was pulsing, and full of life. It was still parallel to the surface of the painting, and the balls were in high-relief now. February rubbed them also, wondering whether the God would emerge from the painting as the days passed. February then licked the head of the God’s penis with her tongue, marveling at its sheer size and the audacity of whomsoever dreamed up Priapus himself.
On Saturday, his balls were fully three dimensional, and February couldn’t restrain herself anymore. She came home in the evening from her day job as a pharmacist and ran into her bedroom. The cock was now pointing at a right angle to the painting, waiting to invade one or another orifice. She started, seeing that the dark God had turned and was facing her, his eyes glinting with salacious evil.
She felt a compulsion within, and wolfed the cock down. She took it into her mouth, and found that the head of the cock barely fit when she opened her lips as wide as she could. She strained and somehow took the head inside her mouth. She slid herself along its shaft, the best she could, but started gagging when she took a third of the cock inside. This cock was meant for the mouths of giantesses.
By Sunday she had spent nearly twenty hours with that giant cock. She had taken it in her mouth, and in her cunt. She had even been brave enough to rub her buttocks against it, but she knew that she would be bleeding severely from her anus if she even entertained the idea of anal penetration. So she continued using the cock of the God to scratch that ever present itch in her cunt. It barely fit inside her cunt the first dozen attempts, but she sat on it, and forced it just an inch deeper each time, and crooned in pleasure at how full she felt. When cock fills a woman, she indeed realizes the importance of size.
She wanted to make Priapus discharge his divine essence, but nothing really worked. She had been reaching orgasm for days with his cock, and while plenty of precum dripped from it, and it was always well lubricated, she could never quite make the God cum. So it became an obsession with her, and she labored every weekend with his cock.
She put in her hours at the CVS where she worked, but stayed only barely able to hold her attention together when working. The painting, and Priapus, filled her mind and called forth unbidden all manner of fantasies inside her. She wondered whether her co-workers could tell that she was perpetually horny, but she didn’t really have as much of a hold on her fantasies anymore, with the painting in her house, and that massive cock just waiting for her attention.
February started guarding her lone time preciously, and called her girlfriends less for the next few weeks. She would find some way to get out of any and all social engagements, so that she could simply spend all her time with the painting. It was perhaps psychologically sick to do so, but she was beyond caring.
She allowed Lauren and some of her girlfriends to come and have turns enjoying the painting and playing with the cock that was fast emerging from it, but everyone else was persona non grata.
Exactly two months from the day she had bought the painting, she lay in her bed, trying not to look at the painting. A long day and lots of Cabernet helped her stay firm in that decision, and she would have fallen asleep if she hadn’t heard the oddest noise. It was low, throaty sound, that sounded like it was two thirds a choke and one third a growl. She froze. There was something in her room.
She heard the sound of hooves. And then a bristly mouth was thrust into hers. That something was kissing her. She was alarmed and tried to push it back. In her alarm, her right arm fumbled for something to use as a weapon, and hit the lamp switch. The lamp came on, and her eyes widened in shock.
It was him. He was no longer bound by the painting. His bronzed face and his luxuriant beard were right in her face. She didn’t have the recourse to look at the rest of him, since he was right there in her face, demanding her lips and attention. She looked in his eyes, and felt a wave of lust swamp her. They were hypnotic and blacker than coals. When the kiss ended a minute later, she was in three minds. One mind wanted her to call for help. One mind wanted someone to pinch her so she could wake up and go on with normal living. The third part, which was fully in control, was entirely in lust with him. She wanted to eat him up, suck him dry, fuck him silly, all of the above times twenty.
He was a few inches shorter than her, but he was randier than an army of billy goats, and as sexy as any man she’d lusted after. The bronzed muscles had the natural look of someone who works for a living, and not the artificial look of a steroid hungry bodybuilder. She kissed him this time, savoring his full lips, and feeling his powerful pectorals flattening her breasts. She felt his rock hard member pressing between her thighs. It wasn’t in her yet, and besides it was too large to enter her without entirely damaging her reproductive system. She felt panic mixed in with her lust. What if he should attempt to enter her? She would probably die. Or her uterus would be so thoroughly damaged that she could never bear a baby.
Lust took over before she could follow these thoughts. His hypnotic eyes sucked her mind right back into lust. She didn’t know when she had wanted to make love so badly. Not even her first time compared with this delicious feeling of wanton desire that danced inside her. She devoured his mouth, and felt his iron member against her thighs. She wanted to put her mouth on it, and find some way to make this God cum. But she wasn't running the show. He was.
He lifted her out of the bed, turned her around, and threw her back on the bed, so that she was on her knees. Then he took her doggy style. He didn’t and couldn’t fully enter her cunt with his massive member, but he thrust the head of his penis in there. She gasped, and bit her lips. She was full just from that purple head. He moved forward and she moaned and panicked for a moment. If he tried going deeper, he would tear her open. He seemed to know this. He had experienced tighter cunts than hers, but she didn’t know this. He thrust forward, expertly taking care to make her feel full, but not tearing her open so that she was damaged.
She heard his grunts. Guttural. Harsh. More beast than man. Yet they were intensely erotic. She had never heard more arousing noises in her life. It was as if sex had its own language, and he spoke it. In more ways than one.
He turned her around, and pushed her to her knees, and placed the head of his penis against her lips. She couldn’t wrap her lips around it, but she tried the best she could, nibbling one way and then another. His fiery eyes held her own, as though he were radiating electric pulses of lust into her. She felt herself tingle as she looked at him, trying to lick his penis the best she could. She took some initiative, and pulled it up, and her saliva dribbled down his giant shaft. She bent further, and sucked each of his gigantic testicles, enjoying the abrasive feel of the hair matted against them.
He let her do her thing for a few minutes, and then lifted her by taking her chin gently in his hand, and guiding her up. He kissed her mouth, and she felt giddier than a teenager making out for the first time. She felt a pulse of hormones inundating her body, asking her to lose control, which had become a thing of the past anyway. His tongue was on hers, and she felt his penis against her thighs.
He lifted it, and placed the head inside her vagina. He thrust forward and she felt full to bursting. He started thrusting, as gently as she could, and she felt uncomfortably full in her cunt, and her orgasm started building inside her. He thrust a little deeper each time, and she felt tingling pain as her cunt was torn open more than it ever had been. Her juices built up inside her, and Priapus’ visage and body made her lust rocket into the ionosphere.
Then he thrust a few inches more than she could take, and she felt the head of his penis buried inside her, against her womb. She felt herself exploding inside, quivering, as she gripped him with a violence that had never been part of her life. She felt as though she her entire womb was full. She saw a wild gleam in his eyes. After several days of teasing, sucking, titillating, and finally fucking, his eyes bespoke his impending climax. She was going to make the God cum, and she felt a pride added to her mad lust as orgasm swamped her.
She didn’t know what Priapus ejaculation would be like. His guttural grunts became louder, almost like screams, and she felt something molten gushing into her. If she felt full earlier, she felt full to bursting now, as a steady sea of thicker than gel semen filled her. She backed away instinctively, knowing she was already full, and his penis leaped out, gushing forth a torrent of white. Priapus had the same gleam in his eyes, as thick quarts of semen shot out against her belly, and as he angled his penis upward, she felt a geyser of molten cum hitting her forehead, and drenching her.
She closed her eyes and tried to duck, but there was no escape. He was a God, after all. She felt stream after stream of thick cum falling all over her, drenching her hair, and covering her breasts. She fell to her knees, and understood that the God had a lot more to give. Just when she thought he was done, a new sea of juices erupted from his member, giving her another shower.
It didn’t end for many hours, and February felt a lightheadedness as it went on. Every time she felt his cum, she felt hornier still, and the lust that usually lessens after orgasm came over her again. She was bathed in semen many times over. Semen dripped from her hair, and a thick coat of semen covered every inch of her skin. She had a belly full of semen. Then she lost consciousness.
Ending one (Happy ending)
When she came to, she was clean. Absolutely clean, and in her bed. The God was back in the painting, which was no different from when she had bought it. She knew that something had happened, however, and she felt very different for some reason.
Later that week, she started throwing up. Intense nausea gripped her in the morning, and she was frightened for her life. She went to her regular OBGYN, Dr. Gupta. Dr. Gupta ran all the tests, and gave her the news.
February couldn’t believe it. All the tests indicated it, but it was impossible. She was having a baby!
She had had herself tested many times. Her tubes were defective. She wanted motherhood, but she could never have a baby. So, she distracted herself with erotic fantasies instead. Now, she was having a baby. She felt a peace she had never felt in the past. She now wondered if the gleam in the God’s eye was something far superior to lust. Some call it love.
Ending two (Horror ending)
When she came to, she was clean. She was in a forest. There was thick foliage all around, and she called out to no one in particular. She heard a voice in the distance, speaking antiquated English.
She walked in the direction of the voice, calling out at intervals to get the direction right. In a few minutes, she emerged in a clearing in the foliage. She reeled from what she saw. It was the same army of women, voluptuous, their nipples winking at her. He was there in the midst of them, with that same gleam in his eye. She felt her mind slipping again, as she felt the fire of lust possess her body.
Gigi
- 16.12.2022
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- Fantasy & Sci-Fi
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