My Minotaur Part II

As he worked the sturdy oars once again, I sat demurely in front of him this time, utterly cowed by the power of him.

I bought him with my money, but now it was he who owned me.

I studied the great muscles for perhaps the hundredth time. The disc of his bicep was pumping with each stroke, my eyes widening appreciably in time.

But somehow I tore my gaze from those engorged knots of strength to his equally impressive thews. Between those, the center of my world hung behind its curtain of simple dingy loincloth, which now I knew to be cut such that it barely could cover his incredible wares.

I reached for the cloth, fingers twitching with horny anticipation, but a contemptuous snort and reproachful glance from his large brown eyes stayed my hand.

His deep, big-balled, bass voice rumbled down my spine straight to my ravenous cunny.

“I did not say you could touch.”

And here I pouted briefly, driven both by his rebuff, and by my desire to show him what an enticing nest my lips could make to any eggs he might want to offer them. Huge, hot eggs. But then I got a better idea for what should be done with my pillow pucker.

I leaned down to one side, and I blew.

His loincloth softly fluttered at first, and then when I greedily unleashed a torrent of lusty air, it unfurled like a standard and flapped up his thigh, revealing my price.

And what a prize! My heart nearly stopped this time as I took it all in.

He was supremely un-aroused, 8 inches of length draped in front of him on the bench, another 6 dangling over the edge, swinging his head like a python unable to swallow a pomegranate.

“What are you doing?”

he snorted.

I lowered my still-pursed lips to the back of his dangling fuck-fruit, meeting the flared rim of his glans with the soft moist texture with them, tasting the velvet of his.

He looked stunned.

I swabbed the whole of his cockhead, accompanying the motion with my lips. I was not kissing nor sucking; merely smearing myself all over him, a messy sheen of saliva causing him to glisten.

When I pulled back and began to apply this technique to his humongous left bull-batter maker, I could hear the oars creak beneath his tightened grasp, and his sculpted brace of eight stomach muscles rolled in delight.

It was here that two things occurred to me.

The first was that Oluth had never before known the pleasure a lady’s mouth can bestow upon manhood, and was experiencing more sensation than he knew how to deal with.

The second was that his fabulous arms were now blurred like a hummingbird’s wings in their task. My feat of mouth-sex was going to get us to the mainland faster.

Spurned on by this I lathed my attention on his other bulging bullock, now sucking hard enough to bring the tang of his musk to the surface.

I tried hard to pop the immense oval into my mouth, but my jaw could not yield to the sheer amount of fat, tasty ball before it. Still I feasted on him as best as I could, frustrated mews of arousal escaping my throat as I worked his sac like a madwoman, nibbling with my too-soft lips, darting my tongue into every crease.

I became aware of a tension beneath my right breast.

Looking down, I saw his astonishing anaconda elevating as the blood I summoned to his head and balls began to fill out the shaft.

The husband I was leaving behind could hardly hold one of my famously weighty watermelons aloft with both hands.

Now my magnificent man-bull’s prodigious prick was accomplishing the task with ease.

As my tit rose, I tongued his bulging thighs and tugged his swelling pouch to encourage its course upwards.

Before long, I leaned back slightly to better observe the progress of this union of titanic titflesh and colossal cockmeat.

My right bosom had been scooped to shoulder height, the sight of it lifting from my bodice by strength of member alone causing pleasure to course though me, erecting my nipples and causing a fountain to gush from betwixt my thighs.

But here a strange struggle ensured. Would the massive obelisk cast off the burdensome milk-jug? Or would he be forced to concede the obvious superiority of my assets over his own?

I arched an eyebrow and looked up at him, peeling back my full-pout lips in a sneering challenge.

“What’s the matter stud-suitor? Not man enough for my treasures?”

I gave a giant nut one powerful squeeze between both hands, seeing what reaction I could get.

I got what I deserved, and if these events seem discombobulated, accept the fact that his cockhead’s mighty blow beneath my chin might have been hard enough to dull my brain.

*THWACK!*

The sound of this collision, obscene and echoing in the empty galley.

His cock smacked into the groove of his abdominal sculpting.

My right tit flew up hard, and rebounded with life of its own, the counterbalance on the other huge orb jiggling it up to join it’s twin in the open air.

My upturned face did not have time to recoil before the sudden up-spurt of arching precum stained with a wet splatter.

I blinked.

He smiled.

I stared at his 36 inch pillar of meat as droplets streaked down my cheeks, breasts now surging the open air.

“You disrobed me with a cockslap.”

I stated in disbelief.

“And you underestimated me.” He retorted. “Now continue this sucking.” He commanded. “it would seem that I like it.”

Wordlessly I launched myself into that which I do best.

* * *

There is an art to cocksucking, and I am a master of this form because I never forget the basic tools. The dick is a brush, and my face is a perfect canvas, waiting to explode with an act of creamy creation.

I started with the light touches, seizing his whopping weapon in both hands, shuddering through a mini-gasm at the mere sight of my two little fists, separated by some thirteen inches of meat, fingers unable to meet palm by the thickness that divided the two.

I leveled the opulent head and began basting myself in the face, coating cheeks, forehead, lips and jaw in his pearly precum. The stuff was as thick as a normal man’s full load, but this as endless in supply.

Of course I now knew his loads were as dense as paste, yet viscous as olive oil.

I’d have to earn that.

Lustily I spread his preload around, rubbing my liberally spunked visage up and down his rod, stroking more syrupy sauce from the head into my greedy face whenever I ran out. I was determined and with hard work, every inch of the mind-shattering fuck-sausage was glistening its own marinade.

I admired my work for only a moment before craning my neck down to get truly acquainted with his glans.

The Myrnotor cock was not circumcised of course, but the sheer enormity of his meat caused that skin to peel back, exposing his head an inch below the glans like some impossible banana.

If only any fruit could taste this good.

I swabbed my tongue deep into the trench of his glans, slowly circling cooing my pleasure at the ripe taste and velvet texture.

My plush lips were not idle. Taking advantage of the majestic sweep of his red ridge, they nibbled and tugged on the protrusion.

Then I curved my course to the tip, my eyebrows raising with my libido at the discovery of precum, pooled deep from my efforts.

His cock’s cum-cavern—cumslit would never do this opening justice—was now steeping in pungent jewel-juice.

First I licked my lips, then I licked the stray drop of overflow running over the rim, and lastly licked the liquid itself from this randy reservoir. Though my tongue was hooked into a scoop, I found myself slurping and gurgling to get it all.

Now it was time to get to the serious business of sucking this cock.

I found myself thwarted by the size at first. Try as I might, I could not mash this monster through my lips.

I tried different approaches, sucking on one “cheek” of his prong’s head, then the other.

No luck.

In frustration, I pulled his yard of shaft down like some lewd lever, a solid thump against my breastbone as the behemoth bone landed between my breasts.

The shock of the hot, huge hammer pounding me gave way to an idea.

Tits-first I slid down his shaft and quickly buried my nose in his firm, leady-heavy nuts. I munched heartily and strained to lift and massage them one at a time.

For my next trick, I was gong to need him extra hard, so knead him extra hard is just what action I took.

Back up to the object of my desire, the atrocity of an apple that crowned him.

I curled my lips in over my teeth, and wrapped both fists around the same part of his pulsing shaft. Incredibly, with both hands I could actually encircle him, fingertips touching, barely.

It was time to test my idea. Exerting all my strength on the steel-stiff-staff, I plied it to my covered teeth like a crowbar, groaning hornily as I punished my plumb bottom lip, wrenching and twisting, and torquing the tool against my jaw.

There was no dramatic pop, nor sudden unhinging of joints, just a rush of feeling and the briefest of pains.

My eyes teared up with triumph: I had engulfed him in my mouth.

He gave a great groaning cry in his nipple-stiffening bass octaves, thrusting his hips such that I had to stand on my tiptoes to avoid him fucking my head straight off.

He wanted my throat, but I could not let him have that yet; it would surely kill me.

But I would not fail bring content to my creature.

I began by taking advantage of my lip’s incredible elasticity. Even stretched tight, my purple prick-pillows still retained some fullness, and bobbing my head gently I could roll and unroll that moist pushiness on his head, slightly gargling tasty little offerings of precum his dick spurted up for me.

Then I began to bob my head with greater speed, filling every inch of my mouth cock steak, and every hollow of my cheek with spewing prespunk.

My hands were busy; they roamed all they could reach, fingers a flutter, palms roughly rubbing, nails gently grazing.

My elbows I sued to bat my tits around, veritably kissing his staggering scepter with my nipples, sometimes shifting the whole hulking hosepipe around with a full-bodied titslap.

One leg I raised, crooking my inner thigh to heat his shaft; the top of my foot would raise one bloated bullock after the other, gently stirring these pineapple-sized pearls to a rolling boil.

It was at this time I became aware of just how much his nuts could change. The cool night air could leave them as small as peaches, or just before cumming, they would swell as capacious as honeydew melons. But whatever fruit they matched in size, they were always so, so heavy.

But they were decidedly swelling now, as I played his insurmountable instrument, skillfully using my whole body to control him.

Well, as much as anyone could anyway, for as he roared to climax, it was obvious who the master of us both remained.

My world dissolved into pain as he up thrust, taking my throat for his own, jamming eight inches of ankle-thick shaft into it.

I coughed and gargled and sputtered and gagged all at the same time. This pushed him over the edge and a torrent of his codpiece killing jam blasted from both my nostrils, the pressure building still and blasting my head from him entirely as well.

He aimed his cock at me, but still keeping his hands on the oars, shot a blast from the tip with each quick stroke.

Again I found myself tossed about in a whirlwind of heavy wads, individual missiles of man-batter pelting my tits, causing each to shake in a different, crazy orbit. My left leg was taken out from under my by his eighth shot, and the 9th and tenth threatened to render me unconscious as they buffeted my head like so much tetherball. Still I fought to retain consciousness, eager to receive the reward my tongue craved, finally managing to take his largest shot of all to my mouth. The concussive force of it was such that it pressed me into an early swallow, the backflow painting the whole of my throat, the roof of my mouth, and entire jaw and neck. Cream-cascaded against cream in mid air as the those shots that which I coughed back was swept into another incoming blast, this one striking between my suddenly wild tits, knocking the wind from met.

Yet still I found the effort to stand, to turn, to shower in his gargantuan globs of goo, another outfit forever ruined at the worthy price of one of his loads.

Again I stood panting in the after math…but only stared at him, hard and respectfully as I shoveled palm-full after finger-full of tasty bull-seed to my mouth.

“I don’t…” *GULP* “get it…” *OLMPH!* “You’re supposed to have the lower body of a man.” *SLRRRP GLUP*

He seemed amused as I slowly asked the question between bites of his rich seed.

“What’s…” *GURGLE* “With the…” *HTHEOWP* “Two tons of cock?” *ULPULPULPULPULP*

He smiled.

“Funny story about that. For another time. We’ve arrived.”

I gave a little squeal as the bump of landmass jarred me from my feet.

Impossibly, my Myrnotor’s first blowjob had cased those arms to get us there in 20 minutes. It was a four-hour trip, even with him at the oars the first time across.

My pussy in almost weak competition with my mouth shuddered out a load of nectar as I came at the very thought of those biceps working that hard because of my mouth.

He pushed open the gangplank front, grabbed my wardrobe, and led me almost reluctantly to cleanse myself of seed in a sea that seemed suddenly unfamiliar.

But where were we going now?