Yolanda and the Sprite
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Cum Girl's Faerie Tales: Yolanda and the Sprite
Author's Note: There is a vanity about faeries and it is their preference to tell tales about themselves. I have narrated this story as I heard it from Yolanda. I hope you enjoy it.
Cum Girl x
The pain was intense; fixed in her abdomen it sent forth slithers of agony making Yolanda's body twitch within her comfy bedding. It had started late in the afternoon; a dull rumbling rolling around her stomach, occasionally exacerbated by sharp cramps. Yolanda have decided that she was ill; that perhaps the Acorn Cutlet she'd eaten at lunch had been seasoned with too much Sage and that an early night and a good sleep would soon restore her to full health.
How wrong she had been. Now, surrounded by the gentle sounds of fairy slumber, Yolanda tossed in her bed as the troublesome rumbling continued to shake her slender frame. What time was it? Rolling onto her back she scanned the night skies taking in the familiar heavenly shapes. There was no sign of pre-dawn light as yet and from the stars configuration Yolanda reckoned that dawn was still some hours away.
This time the stab of pain bought a gasp to her lips and left her panting afterwards. To her left she heard Camilla stir in her sleep, could hear her mumbling to herself. "Probably dreaming about talking to birds again," thought Yolanda to herself, somewhat dismissively. Yolanda was one of the eldest faeries in the adolescent dormitory and increasingly her mind turned to joining adult faerie society. Camilla on the other hand was one of the youngest and still wrapped up in the pleasures of the young; cultivating the forest, talking with birds and animals, listening to the jangle of bluebells ... things that Yolanda now considered "babyish".
Maybe someone had done this to her. Maybe someone had planted pumpkin seeds coated with faerie dust in her soup, maybe she had a pumpkin growing in her right now; or worse a squirrel. She was sure she could remember some tale were a malignant faerie had; no this was silly. She didn't have a squirrel or pumpkin growing inside her, but there was some magic here she didn't understand.
Quite where the thought came from Yolanda couldn't say. One minute her mind was full of squirrels, pumpkins and Camilla sucking hungrily on her thumb; the next she had a vision of herself soaring across a meadow, the wind filling her wings as she tracked and hunted; but what? What was it scurrying through the undergrowth far beneath her? Yolanda shielded her eyes from the sun, peered down at the rustling brush, and espied an upright, furry, brown creature scuttling furtively. A Sprite; it was a Sprite. She should go Sprite hunting.
Instantly, as if in approval of the thought, the pain in her stomach ceased and a singular calmness settled over her. That was better; she could get some sleep now and then perhaps in the morning she'd talk to Godmother Swinina about sprites and what...
The pain was horrific; bringing tears to Yolanda's eyes, causing her nose to run and leaving her stood at the side of her bed clutching her stomach and wiping at her streaming face.
"Okay, okay. I'll go Sprite hunting first thing in the morning just let me get a few hours' sleep."
As soon as the words left her mouth Yolanda knew they were inappropriate. That restful slumber was not to be hers that night and whatever it was trapped inside her would allow her no more sleep. Sighing, she threw on her dress, straightened her bed and, throwing baleful glances at the happily dreaming forms of her friends, headed off to go sprite hunting.
Poor Yolanda; it had been such a frustrating morning. If the truth be told, she really knew nothing at all about sprites and really had no idea as to how or where to begin hunting them. She had wandered aimlessly through the forest, head lowered, eyes fixed on the floor as if deep in thought. At first she tried tracking; peering at the debris of leaves, twigs, beech and acorn kernels for any sign of Sprites passing, but if she'd seen anything she hadn't recognised it for what it was and for most of the morning she meandered with a miserable mien across her face, dragging her feet and kicking up little dust trails as she passed.
The good news was the pain had subsided. In fact, it wasn't really a pain anymore; more a deep pleasurable thrum lighting up Yolanda's whole body with sensation. Her neck prickled, the fine downy hair on her shoulders and back was erect, vibrating beneath the sun's touch, her small breasts ached and the tiny nubs of her nipples pushed hard against the thin fabric of her dress, caressing themselves endlessly against the material's soft touch, whilst her lower stomach tingled as a never ending drumbeat of sensation played within her and between her legs. Well in truth, Yolanda, didn't really know what was happening between her legs. One moment it was awash with butterfly caresses, the next she would be overcome by a series of fierce spasms that would make her legs shake and leave her panting. All the while she was dribbling; an unstoppable, endless flow of moisture was seeping from her, sliding down her legs, leaving her thighs soaking, shiny, and aromatic.
She felt unclean; this liquid, her liquid, the liquid coating her nether regions had a strange musty smell. It felt thick in her nostrils, reminded her of bodies that had lay too long asleep or danced until their skin had glowed and small droplets of moisture had formed. It wasn't like the clean, fresh waters of a stream or the morning dew. It was brackish and when she tasted it ... well how was she to know what it was if she didn't hold it up to the her nose or reach out with her tongue to lick some off her finger ... she'd noticed that it tasted thick and sticky like honey but with a warm, salty, slightly stale flavour. She'd tried to clean herself with her hand, but every time she wiped the liquid away, a spasm shook her body and fresh juices seeped down to replace what she'd removed.
Actually, although the flavour was a bit strange at first she was beginning to enjoy it and was happily sucking and licking at the three liquid coated fingers that seemed to have become near permanent residents in her mouth as she wandered along.
Suckling happily at her fingers, Yolanda, barely notice the thinning of the trees as she approached the forest edge, and she passed down amongst the thick long stems of the meadow grasses. Butterflies fluttered about her, bees zipped past on important business, crickets and grasshoppers chirruped out greetings but Yolanda was unaware of anything beyond the steadily building crescendo of her own bodily needs.
If she was wet before, she was drenched now; where her fingers had once tasted pleasant now they seemed coated in nectar; where once her skin had been happily caressed by the breeze now it burned at its touch. Now her breasts throbbed and her nipples were a thousand pinpricks of delight. And between her legs ... oh most majestic Titania ... between her legs was an inferno, every step a tumult of throbbing, quivering, aching, and spasming pleasure; every step leaving her breathless beneath the baking midday sun.
Quite how she got to the stream she did not know. The journey from forest to waters edge was a blur, but she had never been more pleased to see water in her whole life. Fortunately, the stream had a little sand beach and Yolanda fell to her knees, formed a cup with her hands and sated her thirst with the clean fresh water.
Kneeling, hands clasped helpless in front of her, droplets of water trickling down her face, droplets of cum streaking her thighs, Yolanda never saw him until he was stood over her, till his reflections sat beside hers in the ever-changing mirror of the water's surface, till his hand was in her hair turning her towards him.
He was magnificent. A little bigger than herself and certainly broader, his skin sun bronzed with just a fine layer of brown fur, his arms and legs muscled, his hands strong, with talon like claws on their ends, making her shrink back a little in fear. She looked up at his face, tried to read his intentions, but it was indecipherable, though rather pleasant to gaze upon.
Yolanda had found her Sprite.
She was transfixed. Kneeling on all fours before him she found herself unable to move, found herself lost in his green and hazel flecked eyes, found herself with gaping mouth awaiting him.
Something came between them. Something grew out the thick fur between his legs. Something long and thick and smooth, gradually yet steadily expanded out until it hung in mid-air before Yolanda's face. Hung their demanding recognition, demanding attention, demanding that she ... what should she do?
She could see that the shiny, bulbous end seemed to be coated in moisture and that there was a thin slit with fine dew trickling down the head to form a pearlescent droplet on the underside of her Sprite's protuberance. With the taste for her own moisture still fresh in her mouth, Yolanda couldn't help but wonder whether this new liquid would be so delightfully flavoured. Without a second thought she began to extend her tongue. Her heart thumped noisily inside her chest at the excitement, the danger, the tension. She was quite helpless knelt like this and had no idea how he would react but that single droplet looked so tempting, so tasty, so in need of a hungry little mouth to savour it.
There Yolanda knelt, hands and knees covered in dust, her tongue poised no more than hair's breadth beneath his dewy moisture. She shut her eyes, held herself steady and slowly started to glide her tongue upwards. Upwards till she felt the droplet collect amongst her saliva, upwards so that she might feel his soft brown fur, upwards so that she could slide her tongue over his shiny end collecting more moisture along the way, upwards so that she could press her tongue into his tiny slit and lap at the liquid held within, upwards till she passed over the top of his stiff shaft and her tongue hovered once again in mid-air. Her Sprite moaned; a long exhalation of breath squeezed out between quivering lips.
He tasted ... Yolanda's mind searched frantically for the answer. He tasted as she tasted; yet more so or may be less. It was the same yet different; where she tasted of the air, the trees, acorns and forest, he tasted of grass and earth and water and him; and Yolanda loved it.
She flicked her tongue out again, found his end, and ran herself across it, lapping at his fur, soaking him, her saliva mingling with his heady scent. It was fabulous, it was wonderful; it was not enough. She needed to wrap her tongue around him, hold him along His length, slide her silken skin over his warm fur, dribble over him till he was as soaked as the hot slit between her legs, and squeeze him so that she could feel the stiff muscle at his core, then slowly but surely feed him into her warm wet mouth.
Gradually, she wrapped her tongue round him; willing it to extend until it coiled like a snake around his branch. Yolanda slid it slowly back and forth till she had embraced it all. Beneath her ever moving tongue she could feel him growing; pushing hard against her constraining coils, expanding ever outwards as if it was filling with something.
Yolanda's body shook as a spasm flooded out from between her legs. Whatever it was making his 'thing' expand she wanted it and she wanted it now. Squeezing with her tongue she dived her head forward, opened her mouth as wide as nature would allow and tried to get her distended lips over his bulbous head. It was a struggle, but with a little effort she soon had succeeded in sucking at least his head inside her.
She'd been hoping to suck on him, to use her mouth to strip him of all his fabulous flavouring and drink down his delicious droplets; what she hadn't realised was that his shaft would get bigger and bigger and bigger.
Should we leave it there? Yolanda on her hands and knees before her Sprite, her jaw aching as his cock expands ever outwards filling her needy mouth till is stuffed to overflowing, whilst her soaking pussy cries tears of cum, desperate for the Sprite's cock's fulsome attention. Perhaps I should to save Yolanda the embarrassment of what happened next; but surely it would be a shame to leave the rest untold.
He came. The Sprite came.
Now I have heard plenty of tales of prodigious cum; of humans who have coated their partners with shot after shot of shiny semen but they cannot compare to the sheer volume of cum produced by a Sprite and nothing in Yolanda's life had prepared her for this moment.
Yolanda's mouth was stretched beyond endurance, stuffed with her Sprite's pulsating hot flesh, thick globules of cum shooting down her yawning throat, coating her oesophagus and bubbling back up to her cock filled mouth. She tried to swallow, tried to take it all down, tried to feast on her Sprite's delectable thick semen but there was too much. This would be her end, another faerie light snuffed out of existence, choking on a gargantuan Sprite member whilst her tiny body vibrated in pleasure.
The ache; the delectable shuddering ache between her legs; not so much an ache anymore but endless spasms pushing wave upon wave of sensation through her soaked and dribbling nether regions. If only he'd fill her there. If only he'd take his tumescent pulsating thing, position it behind her upturned rear and ram it deep into the centre of her pleasure.
Maybe it was the bucking of her hips that grabbed his attention or perhaps the gasping redness of her
face that inspired him. Maybe he simply could read Yolanda's mind for with one swift movement he pulled himself free of her clutching lips. Hungrily Yolanda gulped in air, her head swimming dizzily. Hot sticky liquid splashed across her face, nestled in her hair, splattered against her fluttering wings as her Sprite coated her with his pleasure. Yolanda lashed her tongue across her cheeks determined not to waste a single drop of his sweet essence.
As she licked happily at her chin, she felt a spurt of liquid hitting her rounded arse cheeks, felt it trickling down to pool between her pinched waist in the small of her back. He was behind her. Her furry brown muscled Sprite was behind her. Did he know what she wanted? Did he know what she needed? Yolanda thrust her hips upwards and backwards offering him a home in her squelching pink centre.
He thrust into her and she opened before him eager to feel his length within her, eager to have his cock spread her aching muscles, eager for his head to nestle in her stomach. He thrust again driving her forward in the dirt, pushing her along on her hands and knees, unbalancing her so that she had to rest her cum sticky face in the dust to absorb him. Her hair, streaked and glistening with his cum fell over her face to halo her head. Stable, Yolanda pushed back, meeting his next thrust with one of her own and was rewarded with the feeling of him sliding to her depths. His fur tickled the backs of her thighs. His muscled stomach pushed firmly into the soft flesh of her arse. Yolanda moaned, lost in pleasure.
She could feel him pulsing deep inside her; feel his cum spurting forth to coat her from the inside; feel her own wetness surrounding and absorbing him, making him part of her. She could feel his cum cascading out of her dripping flesh to splash down and wet her knees. His hands found her hips, and she relaxed in his grip, gave herself to him, became one with the hard burning flesh that filled her to her very core, that was pistoning into her, pummelling her, stretching her, caressing her, fucking her in an escalating frenzy of flesh, juices and pleasure.
Yolanda's body tensed. The muscles in her stomach gripped down firmly on her Sprite's intrusion, held him fixed, squeezed him, milked him, throbbed as if with a life of their own. Then it started. A tingling in her toes growing stronger and stronger till her feet were shaking uncontrollably, till vibrations spread up her aching calves to her quivering thighs. Her stomach was jelly, her breasts wobbling beneath her shuddering shoulders, her neck tense and her dribbling mouth panting into the dust.
She felt a slither of pleasure between her legs and her muscles contracted in reply. A second, more intense, and another on top of that; more and more, faster and stronger, wave after wave of sensation building and growing till there was nothing but his stiff cock filling her wet pussy and everywhere white hot burning pleasure. And then...
When she was found Yolanda was still lying face down in the dirt by the riverbank coated in dust and cum. Her skin was bruised and cut, her wings stuck to her back soaked through with semen, thick and aromatic juices dripped out of her pussy which still bucked and quivered in mid-air. The faeries that found her carried Yolanda to the river and revived her in its sparkling waters. As they fussed around her, cleansing her skin and tending to her abrasions, Yolanda sat silently amongst them, her eyes half closed, her mind elsewhere and a beatific smile playing around her bruised and swollen lips.
Now that is the tale as Yolanda told it. But, as she talked I couldn't help but notice that there was much snorting, giggling and muttering behind hands as the story unfolded. Faeries are usually a very attentive audience so this was not at all normal.
Yolanda pointedly ignored such rudeness; thrust her shoulders back, held her head up high and delivered the tale with all the dignity she could muster. However, even though she was lit only by starlight, it was obvious that her face reddened and her wings quivered with fury. No sooner had she finished than she spun round, turned her nose upwards as if a bad smell had assailed it and fluttered off in search of a drink of honeydew.
The laughter at her retreat was uproarious and I glanced around questioningly at my faerie hosts for truly I had never experienced such behaviour before. Eventually, the hilarity subsided and a small faerie stepped forward. She had a boyish face framed by deep brown hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders.
"Poor Yolanda grows more innocent with each telling, Cum Girl."
I looked questioningly at her.
"My name is Arenta and Yolanda and I shared the adolescent dormitory together. She was always brazenly flirtatious especially in the company of Sprites. Contrary to what Yolanda would have you believe, we knew the Sprites of the river grasses well, played with them often in our youth and came to eye their tumescent members with lascivious desire as we experienced our own sexual awakening."
"Yolanda was always a tease; fluttering her wings and eyelashes, tossing her hair, always quick with a tender peck to the cheek or a casual caress to the arm. Certainly she never missed an opportunity to rub her soft pale flesh up against any Sprite she should encounter."
"I myself have enjoyed the pleasure of having my body filled with a Sprite's pulsing cock and felt its hot cum splatter over my skin, for I am no innocent. I was one of the faeries that found Yolanda kneeling on all fours by the riverbank, her face pushed into the dust, her hair filled with cum, her wings coated and stuck to her back, her upturned arse bespattered, her thighs slick, her pussy plundered and overfilled with sticky creamy juices that were dribbling down to pool between her grazed knees."
"I was one of the faeries who lifted her face out of the dirt, helped her to her feet, washed her in the stream and tended to her filthy, cut and bruised body before bringing her back to our faerie home and I believe that more than one Sprite had his use of Yolanda that day."
"Quite what happened I can only conjecture, for as you have heard, Yolanda has found her own 'truth' about that day and she will not be shaken from her tale."
Now I do not know who tells the truth; Arenta or Yolanda. Both versions have their merits. Which do you prefer? Do you see Yolanda as an innocent experiencing the transition from adolescence to adulthood? Or perhaps you'd prefer her as a wanton; stuffed and surrounded by cocks, moaning in pleasure and showered in cum? Certainly, I think she would look delightful with all her orifices cock filled, her wings fluttering helplessly above her as cum rained down onto her tiny soaked and orgasming body. Yes, I think she'd be a very pretty and lucky faerie indeed.
Cum Girl x
Author's Note: There is a vanity about faeries and it is their preference to tell tales about themselves. I have narrated this story as I heard it from Yolanda. I hope you enjoy it.
Cum Girl x
The pain was intense; fixed in her abdomen it sent forth slithers of agony making Yolanda's body twitch within her comfy bedding. It had started late in the afternoon; a dull rumbling rolling around her stomach, occasionally exacerbated by sharp cramps. Yolanda have decided that she was ill; that perhaps the Acorn Cutlet she'd eaten at lunch had been seasoned with too much Sage and that an early night and a good sleep would soon restore her to full health.
How wrong she had been. Now, surrounded by the gentle sounds of fairy slumber, Yolanda tossed in her bed as the troublesome rumbling continued to shake her slender frame. What time was it? Rolling onto her back she scanned the night skies taking in the familiar heavenly shapes. There was no sign of pre-dawn light as yet and from the stars configuration Yolanda reckoned that dawn was still some hours away.
This time the stab of pain bought a gasp to her lips and left her panting afterwards. To her left she heard Camilla stir in her sleep, could hear her mumbling to herself. "Probably dreaming about talking to birds again," thought Yolanda to herself, somewhat dismissively. Yolanda was one of the eldest faeries in the adolescent dormitory and increasingly her mind turned to joining adult faerie society. Camilla on the other hand was one of the youngest and still wrapped up in the pleasures of the young; cultivating the forest, talking with birds and animals, listening to the jangle of bluebells ... things that Yolanda now considered "babyish".
Maybe someone had done this to her. Maybe someone had planted pumpkin seeds coated with faerie dust in her soup, maybe she had a pumpkin growing in her right now; or worse a squirrel. She was sure she could remember some tale were a malignant faerie had; no this was silly. She didn't have a squirrel or pumpkin growing inside her, but there was some magic here she didn't understand.
Quite where the thought came from Yolanda couldn't say. One minute her mind was full of squirrels, pumpkins and Camilla sucking hungrily on her thumb; the next she had a vision of herself soaring across a meadow, the wind filling her wings as she tracked and hunted; but what? What was it scurrying through the undergrowth far beneath her? Yolanda shielded her eyes from the sun, peered down at the rustling brush, and espied an upright, furry, brown creature scuttling furtively. A Sprite; it was a Sprite. She should go Sprite hunting.
Instantly, as if in approval of the thought, the pain in her stomach ceased and a singular calmness settled over her. That was better; she could get some sleep now and then perhaps in the morning she'd talk to Godmother Swinina about sprites and what...
The pain was horrific; bringing tears to Yolanda's eyes, causing her nose to run and leaving her stood at the side of her bed clutching her stomach and wiping at her streaming face.
"Okay, okay. I'll go Sprite hunting first thing in the morning just let me get a few hours' sleep."
As soon as the words left her mouth Yolanda knew they were inappropriate. That restful slumber was not to be hers that night and whatever it was trapped inside her would allow her no more sleep. Sighing, she threw on her dress, straightened her bed and, throwing baleful glances at the happily dreaming forms of her friends, headed off to go sprite hunting.
Poor Yolanda; it had been such a frustrating morning. If the truth be told, she really knew nothing at all about sprites and really had no idea as to how or where to begin hunting them. She had wandered aimlessly through the forest, head lowered, eyes fixed on the floor as if deep in thought. At first she tried tracking; peering at the debris of leaves, twigs, beech and acorn kernels for any sign of Sprites passing, but if she'd seen anything she hadn't recognised it for what it was and for most of the morning she meandered with a miserable mien across her face, dragging her feet and kicking up little dust trails as she passed.
The good news was the pain had subsided. In fact, it wasn't really a pain anymore; more a deep pleasurable thrum lighting up Yolanda's whole body with sensation. Her neck prickled, the fine downy hair on her shoulders and back was erect, vibrating beneath the sun's touch, her small breasts ached and the tiny nubs of her nipples pushed hard against the thin fabric of her dress, caressing themselves endlessly against the material's soft touch, whilst her lower stomach tingled as a never ending drumbeat of sensation played within her and between her legs. Well in truth, Yolanda, didn't really know what was happening between her legs. One moment it was awash with butterfly caresses, the next she would be overcome by a series of fierce spasms that would make her legs shake and leave her panting. All the while she was dribbling; an unstoppable, endless flow of moisture was seeping from her, sliding down her legs, leaving her thighs soaking, shiny, and aromatic.
She felt unclean; this liquid, her liquid, the liquid coating her nether regions had a strange musty smell. It felt thick in her nostrils, reminded her of bodies that had lay too long asleep or danced until their skin had glowed and small droplets of moisture had formed. It wasn't like the clean, fresh waters of a stream or the morning dew. It was brackish and when she tasted it ... well how was she to know what it was if she didn't hold it up to the her nose or reach out with her tongue to lick some off her finger ... she'd noticed that it tasted thick and sticky like honey but with a warm, salty, slightly stale flavour. She'd tried to clean herself with her hand, but every time she wiped the liquid away, a spasm shook her body and fresh juices seeped down to replace what she'd removed.
Actually, although the flavour was a bit strange at first she was beginning to enjoy it and was happily sucking and licking at the three liquid coated fingers that seemed to have become near permanent residents in her mouth as she wandered along.
Suckling happily at her fingers, Yolanda, barely notice the thinning of the trees as she approached the forest edge, and she passed down amongst the thick long stems of the meadow grasses. Butterflies fluttered about her, bees zipped past on important business, crickets and grasshoppers chirruped out greetings but Yolanda was unaware of anything beyond the steadily building crescendo of her own bodily needs.
If she was wet before, she was drenched now; where her fingers had once tasted pleasant now they seemed coated in nectar; where once her skin had been happily caressed by the breeze now it burned at its touch. Now her breasts throbbed and her nipples were a thousand pinpricks of delight. And between her legs ... oh most majestic Titania ... between her legs was an inferno, every step a tumult of throbbing, quivering, aching, and spasming pleasure; every step leaving her breathless beneath the baking midday sun.
Quite how she got to the stream she did not know. The journey from forest to waters edge was a blur, but she had never been more pleased to see water in her whole life. Fortunately, the stream had a little sand beach and Yolanda fell to her knees, formed a cup with her hands and sated her thirst with the clean fresh water.
Kneeling, hands clasped helpless in front of her, droplets of water trickling down her face, droplets of cum streaking her thighs, Yolanda never saw him until he was stood over her, till his reflections sat beside hers in the ever-changing mirror of the water's surface, till his hand was in her hair turning her towards him.
He was magnificent. A little bigger than herself and certainly broader, his skin sun bronzed with just a fine layer of brown fur, his arms and legs muscled, his hands strong, with talon like claws on their ends, making her shrink back a little in fear. She looked up at his face, tried to read his intentions, but it was indecipherable, though rather pleasant to gaze upon.
Yolanda had found her Sprite.
She was transfixed. Kneeling on all fours before him she found herself unable to move, found herself lost in his green and hazel flecked eyes, found herself with gaping mouth awaiting him.
Something came between them. Something grew out the thick fur between his legs. Something long and thick and smooth, gradually yet steadily expanded out until it hung in mid-air before Yolanda's face. Hung their demanding recognition, demanding attention, demanding that she ... what should she do?
She could see that the shiny, bulbous end seemed to be coated in moisture and that there was a thin slit with fine dew trickling down the head to form a pearlescent droplet on the underside of her Sprite's protuberance. With the taste for her own moisture still fresh in her mouth, Yolanda couldn't help but wonder whether this new liquid would be so delightfully flavoured. Without a second thought she began to extend her tongue. Her heart thumped noisily inside her chest at the excitement, the danger, the tension. She was quite helpless knelt like this and had no idea how he would react but that single droplet looked so tempting, so tasty, so in need of a hungry little mouth to savour it.
There Yolanda knelt, hands and knees covered in dust, her tongue poised no more than hair's breadth beneath his dewy moisture. She shut her eyes, held herself steady and slowly started to glide her tongue upwards. Upwards till she felt the droplet collect amongst her saliva, upwards so that she might feel his soft brown fur, upwards so that she could slide her tongue over his shiny end collecting more moisture along the way, upwards so that she could press her tongue into his tiny slit and lap at the liquid held within, upwards till she passed over the top of his stiff shaft and her tongue hovered once again in mid-air. Her Sprite moaned; a long exhalation of breath squeezed out between quivering lips.
He tasted ... Yolanda's mind searched frantically for the answer. He tasted as she tasted; yet more so or may be less. It was the same yet different; where she tasted of the air, the trees, acorns and forest, he tasted of grass and earth and water and him; and Yolanda loved it.
She flicked her tongue out again, found his end, and ran herself across it, lapping at his fur, soaking him, her saliva mingling with his heady scent. It was fabulous, it was wonderful; it was not enough. She needed to wrap her tongue around him, hold him along His length, slide her silken skin over his warm fur, dribble over him till he was as soaked as the hot slit between her legs, and squeeze him so that she could feel the stiff muscle at his core, then slowly but surely feed him into her warm wet mouth.
Gradually, she wrapped her tongue round him; willing it to extend until it coiled like a snake around his branch. Yolanda slid it slowly back and forth till she had embraced it all. Beneath her ever moving tongue she could feel him growing; pushing hard against her constraining coils, expanding ever outwards as if it was filling with something.
Yolanda's body shook as a spasm flooded out from between her legs. Whatever it was making his 'thing' expand she wanted it and she wanted it now. Squeezing with her tongue she dived her head forward, opened her mouth as wide as nature would allow and tried to get her distended lips over his bulbous head. It was a struggle, but with a little effort she soon had succeeded in sucking at least his head inside her.
She'd been hoping to suck on him, to use her mouth to strip him of all his fabulous flavouring and drink down his delicious droplets; what she hadn't realised was that his shaft would get bigger and bigger and bigger.
Should we leave it there? Yolanda on her hands and knees before her Sprite, her jaw aching as his cock expands ever outwards filling her needy mouth till is stuffed to overflowing, whilst her soaking pussy cries tears of cum, desperate for the Sprite's cock's fulsome attention. Perhaps I should to save Yolanda the embarrassment of what happened next; but surely it would be a shame to leave the rest untold.
He came. The Sprite came.
Now I have heard plenty of tales of prodigious cum; of humans who have coated their partners with shot after shot of shiny semen but they cannot compare to the sheer volume of cum produced by a Sprite and nothing in Yolanda's life had prepared her for this moment.
Yolanda's mouth was stretched beyond endurance, stuffed with her Sprite's pulsating hot flesh, thick globules of cum shooting down her yawning throat, coating her oesophagus and bubbling back up to her cock filled mouth. She tried to swallow, tried to take it all down, tried to feast on her Sprite's delectable thick semen but there was too much. This would be her end, another faerie light snuffed out of existence, choking on a gargantuan Sprite member whilst her tiny body vibrated in pleasure.
The ache; the delectable shuddering ache between her legs; not so much an ache anymore but endless spasms pushing wave upon wave of sensation through her soaked and dribbling nether regions. If only he'd fill her there. If only he'd take his tumescent pulsating thing, position it behind her upturned rear and ram it deep into the centre of her pleasure.
Maybe it was the bucking of her hips that grabbed his attention or perhaps the gasping redness of her
face that inspired him. Maybe he simply could read Yolanda's mind for with one swift movement he pulled himself free of her clutching lips. Hungrily Yolanda gulped in air, her head swimming dizzily. Hot sticky liquid splashed across her face, nestled in her hair, splattered against her fluttering wings as her Sprite coated her with his pleasure. Yolanda lashed her tongue across her cheeks determined not to waste a single drop of his sweet essence.
As she licked happily at her chin, she felt a spurt of liquid hitting her rounded arse cheeks, felt it trickling down to pool between her pinched waist in the small of her back. He was behind her. Her furry brown muscled Sprite was behind her. Did he know what she wanted? Did he know what she needed? Yolanda thrust her hips upwards and backwards offering him a home in her squelching pink centre.
He thrust into her and she opened before him eager to feel his length within her, eager to have his cock spread her aching muscles, eager for his head to nestle in her stomach. He thrust again driving her forward in the dirt, pushing her along on her hands and knees, unbalancing her so that she had to rest her cum sticky face in the dust to absorb him. Her hair, streaked and glistening with his cum fell over her face to halo her head. Stable, Yolanda pushed back, meeting his next thrust with one of her own and was rewarded with the feeling of him sliding to her depths. His fur tickled the backs of her thighs. His muscled stomach pushed firmly into the soft flesh of her arse. Yolanda moaned, lost in pleasure.
She could feel him pulsing deep inside her; feel his cum spurting forth to coat her from the inside; feel her own wetness surrounding and absorbing him, making him part of her. She could feel his cum cascading out of her dripping flesh to splash down and wet her knees. His hands found her hips, and she relaxed in his grip, gave herself to him, became one with the hard burning flesh that filled her to her very core, that was pistoning into her, pummelling her, stretching her, caressing her, fucking her in an escalating frenzy of flesh, juices and pleasure.
Yolanda's body tensed. The muscles in her stomach gripped down firmly on her Sprite's intrusion, held him fixed, squeezed him, milked him, throbbed as if with a life of their own. Then it started. A tingling in her toes growing stronger and stronger till her feet were shaking uncontrollably, till vibrations spread up her aching calves to her quivering thighs. Her stomach was jelly, her breasts wobbling beneath her shuddering shoulders, her neck tense and her dribbling mouth panting into the dust.
She felt a slither of pleasure between her legs and her muscles contracted in reply. A second, more intense, and another on top of that; more and more, faster and stronger, wave after wave of sensation building and growing till there was nothing but his stiff cock filling her wet pussy and everywhere white hot burning pleasure. And then...
When she was found Yolanda was still lying face down in the dirt by the riverbank coated in dust and cum. Her skin was bruised and cut, her wings stuck to her back soaked through with semen, thick and aromatic juices dripped out of her pussy which still bucked and quivered in mid-air. The faeries that found her carried Yolanda to the river and revived her in its sparkling waters. As they fussed around her, cleansing her skin and tending to her abrasions, Yolanda sat silently amongst them, her eyes half closed, her mind elsewhere and a beatific smile playing around her bruised and swollen lips.
Now that is the tale as Yolanda told it. But, as she talked I couldn't help but notice that there was much snorting, giggling and muttering behind hands as the story unfolded. Faeries are usually a very attentive audience so this was not at all normal.
Yolanda pointedly ignored such rudeness; thrust her shoulders back, held her head up high and delivered the tale with all the dignity she could muster. However, even though she was lit only by starlight, it was obvious that her face reddened and her wings quivered with fury. No sooner had she finished than she spun round, turned her nose upwards as if a bad smell had assailed it and fluttered off in search of a drink of honeydew.
The laughter at her retreat was uproarious and I glanced around questioningly at my faerie hosts for truly I had never experienced such behaviour before. Eventually, the hilarity subsided and a small faerie stepped forward. She had a boyish face framed by deep brown hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders.
"Poor Yolanda grows more innocent with each telling, Cum Girl."
I looked questioningly at her.
"My name is Arenta and Yolanda and I shared the adolescent dormitory together. She was always brazenly flirtatious especially in the company of Sprites. Contrary to what Yolanda would have you believe, we knew the Sprites of the river grasses well, played with them often in our youth and came to eye their tumescent members with lascivious desire as we experienced our own sexual awakening."
"Yolanda was always a tease; fluttering her wings and eyelashes, tossing her hair, always quick with a tender peck to the cheek or a casual caress to the arm. Certainly she never missed an opportunity to rub her soft pale flesh up against any Sprite she should encounter."
"I myself have enjoyed the pleasure of having my body filled with a Sprite's pulsing cock and felt its hot cum splatter over my skin, for I am no innocent. I was one of the faeries that found Yolanda kneeling on all fours by the riverbank, her face pushed into the dust, her hair filled with cum, her wings coated and stuck to her back, her upturned arse bespattered, her thighs slick, her pussy plundered and overfilled with sticky creamy juices that were dribbling down to pool between her grazed knees."
"I was one of the faeries who lifted her face out of the dirt, helped her to her feet, washed her in the stream and tended to her filthy, cut and bruised body before bringing her back to our faerie home and I believe that more than one Sprite had his use of Yolanda that day."
"Quite what happened I can only conjecture, for as you have heard, Yolanda has found her own 'truth' about that day and she will not be shaken from her tale."
Now I do not know who tells the truth; Arenta or Yolanda. Both versions have their merits. Which do you prefer? Do you see Yolanda as an innocent experiencing the transition from adolescence to adulthood? Or perhaps you'd prefer her as a wanton; stuffed and surrounded by cocks, moaning in pleasure and showered in cum? Certainly, I think she would look delightful with all her orifices cock filled, her wings fluttering helplessly above her as cum rained down onto her tiny soaked and orgasming body. Yes, I think she'd be a very pretty and lucky faerie indeed.
Cum Girl x
Jeannie
- 11.06.2020
- 15
- 0
- Category:
- Supernatural
