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The Girl Who Wouldn't Cry free porn video
VIGNETTE: THE GIRL WHO WOULDN'T CRY
By C
So far, it had been a pretty easy week for Sly Foxx. His assignment: bringdown a gang of Full-Bodied Land-Fays who'd infested the woods and fields ofSnootley-under-Throckmorton. These bad girls had devoured produce, drainedthe blood of livestock, and driven the occasional farming family to madnessand death. But their fun was now over: for one by one, Sly had bagged themall. They were big and strong, but they had a weakness: the extreme tendernessof their quadruple D-cup breasts. Sly had leapt out at them from bushes, orfallen on them from branches overhead, or chased them until he cornered them—butthe endgame was always the same. He'd sink his sharp, envenomed teeth intoa big, trembling fairy bosom; the girl would scream in bitter hurt and despair;and that, as they say, was that.
It was noon on Sunday, when he returned to the clearing that served as hisheadquarters. With him he brought the ninth and last member of the gang, slumpedunconscious over his left shoulder. With no small strain, he laid her out,face up, on the grass right next to her equally unconscious partners in crime.Standing back, he wiped the sweat from his brow and admired what he had wrought.These nine were the very bloom of Full-Bodied loveliness: heads full of long,brightly colored hair (red, golden, black, pale green, and deep blue); perfectlyproportioned (albeit plump) faces; spectacular bosoms; full, soft tummies;and big, shapely thighs. Each fairy wore a waist-length tunic and high heels,both matching her hair--plus one more item of clothing: a tight, black thong.So snug were these undergarments that they revealed the exact swell and dimplingof each plump pussy. The sight filled Sly with lustful amusement, and the LadyKiller—his not-so secret weapon—stood up and saluted.
"Those can't be comfortable," the hunter said out loud, so he went down theline of girls and pulled their thongs to their knees. Thus he uncovered nineneat, surprisingly small muffs, all matching the hair on his victims' heads,but darker. The thongs were a protective measure, effectively masking a fairy'sscent. Now, sweet and musky at the same time, that scent filled the clearing. "Awwwww," saidSly, "you hid your perfume so you wouldn't get caught! I'd say there's no reasonnot to share it now." The aroma so excited him that he seized each thong againand yanked it past its owner's feet. The undies were soaked through with peeand fairy honey, and he drew in whiff after whiff as he clutched them in hisright paw.
After a while, he was ready to waken his guests. He tucked the thongs intothe knapsack he always wore; then he clapped his paws sharply together. Moaninga little, the nine doomed fairies returned to consciousness. Then they beganto cry: full-throated, heartbroken sobs. Well, all but one began to cry: theone he had most recently captured. She was a red-haired, freckled minx, withthe prettiest pussy in the bunch. But her face was anything but pretty at themoment: a study in hatred and barely-contained rage. (Her scarlet tunic andheels fit her apparent mood to a tee!)
"You . . . fucking . . . furry . . . bastard!" she said through clenchedteeth.
"Well, uh, yes," said Sly. "And what of it?"
"Ohhhhh! You . . . you took my thong, you big fuzzy prick!"
"Perhaps you don't quite appreciate the gravity of your situation, Miss.You see: I'm the catch er , and you're the catch ee ,and that means, by the Ancient Right of Predators, that everything of yoursdevolves to me, and so . . . ."
"Oh, shut the fuck up! If I could just . . ." (and she struggled now, withlittle success, against the power of his venom) ". . . ohhhhh, I'd show you,you panty-snatching, pointy-nosed, furry-assed . . . oh, fuck!"
"So," said the fox-man with a smirk, "you're not as prone to tearful surrenderas your comrades in crime. But you're still caught. Make it hard for yourselfor make it easy--it changes nothing from where I stand."
"Give me back my thong!" the redhead screamed.
"Not a chance," said Sly. "You don't need it any more. I've taken it downand it's staying down. It's going on display with my other trophies back atFoxx Manor. Do you know how many foolish, wicked fairies I've caught? I wishyou could see the trophy room: all the panties, thongs, bikini bottoms, highheels, and the rest. You're just one among dozens, so have a good cry, do allthe kicking you can, and . . . ."
At that moment, the redhead jumped up, strode over to Sly, and punched him,very hard, in the stomach. "Ooof!" he said, and fell to the ground. Then shekicked him in the side. "Mphhh!" he replied. She was about to stamp on hisback, when he forced himself up and took off, as fast as he could. She pursuedhim, and, injured as he was, she was gaining on him.
Luckily, Sly saw a big elm tree, in full leaf, just a few feet away. He dashedfor it, then clambered up its trunk. The girl was too heavy, of course, tofollow. She stood at the base of the tree, shouting: "Give me back my thong,you bastard!"
Sly climbed and climbed, until he reached a bough he knew would support hisweight. He slipped out onto it and found as much leafy cover as he could. Thenhe caught his breath. How could he have been so foolish? Clearly, this onewas resistant to his venom, or she couldn't have stayed so aggressive afterhe bit her. While he bandied words with her, the poison had worn off; and hewas up a tree now because he'd been too arrogant to notice the signs.
She yelled up to him: "You can't stay there forever, you furry fuck! Dropme my thong, and I'll let you go. Otherwise, you're dead meat, one way or another!"
He thought he could wait till she got tired or bored, and then slink off.But his pride rebelled against so cowardly a course of action. And what ofthe rest of his catch? If he waited too long, they'd shrug off his poison,too, and get away. Could he ever live down such a defeat? There must be somethingelse . . . .
He had an idea. She was resistant, but not entirely immune. He had gone forthe breasts with these girls, because it was easy; but if they were like otherfays, they were even more vulnerable somewhere else. He made sure he couldn'tbe seen from below, then pulled the thongs out of his knapsack. Which was hers?They all looked, smelled, and tasted the same. To hell with it! hethought, and he licked them all until they were saturated with foxy saliva.Next he waved them back and forth to dry them out. Fairies don't have a strongsense of smell, so if they were dry enough, she might not notice. Then he leanedout past his cover of leaves and called down to her: "Okay, okay! I'm droppingthem all now!"
"I don't care about the others; I just want mine!"
"Fine, fine . . . but I don't know which one is yours. You'll have to findit yourself!" And with these words, he let the thongs fall.
She rummaged through them, till she discovered hers. She gave it a sniff,and Sly had a tense second or two. Then she spoke: "How you could possiblyconfuse this with any of the others, I don't know; it's obviously the sweetestsmelling!" She quickly put it back on, tugging and fiddling with it till itwas in its proper place.
"Oh, you're back! You're back!" she cried, and did a happy sort of dance. "Oh,I'll never let you get away from me again, I'll . . . ." And then she stoodstill for a moment.
"Funny," she said. "I'm feeling a little warm . . . I . . . Oh! Ouch! No!" Shereached down with her hands and frantically rubbed her groin—but thatseemed to accomplish nothing. "Oh! Oh! Oh my God, it stings! It stings!" Shewas dancing once more, hopping from foot to pretty foot; but this time shedidn't look happy at all. Then, suddenly, she took off running.
Sly jumped down from the tree and followed her. She darted in one direction,then another, then in still another. Then she halted and tried to do what sheshould have done to begin with: pull off the thong. Alas, Sly's venom had weakenedher hands: she could only fumble at it ineffectually. No effort of hers wouldloosen it now. She screamed in frustration, pain, and fear—and fell toher knees. By the time he reached her, she was on her back, trembling fromher head to her heels.
"Oh God, it hurts!" she cried. "T-take it off! Take it off!"
"But you wanted it back," he said.
"Take it off, you son of a bitch! Take it off!"
"If that's how you feel now," said Sly, "but you know what you need to dofirst."
She looked at him for a moment . . . and tears at last filled her eyes. "There!" shesobbed. "Are you h-happy now? You . . . you win . . . you got me . . . andI'm c-crying now! I'm crying! I'm caught . . . I'm finished . . . I surrender. . . and I can't . . . can't stop crying
. . . Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" And then she just wept and wailed—for to havebeen tricked and caught again was bitter hurt indeed. Satisfied, Sly bent downand stripped off her thong.
The poisoned lingerie had made a good start on things, but the hunter wastaking no chances now. He gave her pussy a nice hard nip—enough to makeher squeal, but not to knock her out. Then he gathered her up in his arms andtook her back to where the other girls still lay, crying and kicking as hardas ever. They all looked safely subdued; but he nipped their pussies, too—madethem squeal just like their sister-villainess. This would be his practice fromnow on, no matter what kind of fay he bagged; for it was clear you couldn'trest easy with a bite to the bosom alone.
In the meantime, the redhead had softened up quite nicely; it was time forthe Lady Killer to do its magic. "Unnnnhhhhh," she groaned as he slipped itin, "you . . . pussy-killing bastard!" But, along with abuse, she gave himplenty of tears and sobs. And she had one hard, whimpery, kicky orgasm afteranother: eighteen in all. When she'd kicked her last, he went on to the others;and he sent them off in much the same way.
Years later, whenever he thought of this exploit, he dwelt with most pleasureon the girl who (for a time at least) just wouldn't cry.
THE END
Alma
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