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Dragonborn. Dragon-hung... (Pulse x Liminal)

P

Pulse

Moon
Joined
Jun 26, 2019
Rolf was panting, the big burly Nord was strong, but not made for cross-country running. He and Alette hadn’t slowed down for a moment since escaping Helgen, the searing heat of the scorching flames and the screams of cooking Imperials and prisoners still fresh in their memory.

Riverwood was a small, rural village mostly consisting of shacks and the necessities of farming life. Rough-speaking farmers, buxom peasant women and barefoot children scurried around the mud tracks, on with the day’s labour and play.

“Okay, we’ve made it here. My house is at the end of the street, you can stay with my family for a while until you work out what you want to do,” the heavily accented Nord offered, his honest blue eyes sliding over to his companion. As it had every time he’d looked at her, his face paled slightly at the sight – she was…not an average Nord, to say the least.

“Maybe…maybe you’d better put that thing away. The wife might complain.”
 
Alette fairly skidded to a halt as the town's wall, if it could be called that, came into view. Though nearly as tall as Ralof and in no worse shape, the flight had left her every bit as winded, sweat matting her blonde hair and giving her pale skin a faint sheen in the light of late afternoon. Despite the chill that prevailed even this close to the Cyrodiil border, almost all of that skin was exposed; while her arms and shoulders were protected by steel bracers and pauldrons, and her shins by greaves that looked to be a matched set, whatever other elements the armor had once included were nowhere to be seen, and the only other clothing she wore consisted of sturdy traveler's boots and a sword belt, from which hung one of the short, broad blades that a trained eye might have recognized as Imperial standard issue. Exposed, the hardened muscle and variety of scars that made up her figure made it clear she was no pampered housewife, though that impression stood at odds with her heavy, full breasts, pink nipples standing firm in the chill air, and the womanly swell of her hips.

What it stood at odds with rather less, if it could be believed, was the foot-long, mottled brown horse cock rising erect from between her legs. Though not quite as large as the genuine article, there was no mistaking the appendage for anyone the least bit familiar with horses. Flared at the head, its veiny length, easily as thick as Alette's wrist, was divided in the middle by a prominent medial ring, the base disappearing into a thick sheath of dark brown flesh, below which hung a heavy sack holding two orbs the size of chicken's eggs.

If the broad-shouldered woman was the least bit perturbed at being seen in such a state, she gave no sign as she straightened up from catching her breath. Her grey eyes meeting Ralof's blue, she gave him a look as though she thought him a bit dim. "You found any trousers that'll fit over it?" She had a point, he would have to admit. Seeming to think the matter bore no further discussion, Alette turned to regard the town. Not much to look at, for certain, but under the circumstances, she hardly thought herself in a position to be choosy.

The exertion of their retreat must have dulled her reason, because it was only now that it began to dawn on her what had just happened. One moment, the headsman looming, ready to bring down the axe...then her sanity must have left her rather suddenly, because there was still no way that had been a fucking dragon. And now, here she found herself, utterly penniless, all the plans she'd had coming back to Skyrim thoroughly smashed, with nowhere to go...except to rely on Stormcloak generosity.

Not that she even had anything against the rebellion. She just didn't like the idea of incurring debts when she could avoid it. No more than the prospect of being caught with a wanted fugitive.

She drew a deep breath. "I...don't know if I thanked you properly." She didn't quite meet Ralof's eyes this time. "But I'd probably be cinders about now if you hadn't pulled me out of there. So...you know." With an awkward sort of shrug, she gestured to the village. "I'm still following you for now."
 
Ralof gulped, looking over at the busty, practically nude woman standing their proud with her foot-long, thick animal shaft dangling in the cool breeze. That massive meaty length seemed utterly indifferent to the obscenity of its simply dangling there, out and proud and…drooling slightly? Rolf shook his head, not wanting to imagine what his sister or wife would think. Maybe he shouldn’t take Alette to…well, no choice now. The Imperials might have followed them, and it was the only safe place for miles.

He took her comment about trousers and, after a moment, nodded in rueful agreement.

“The merchants don’t really think about such things, true. Nor the armour makers.”

He nodded at her mention of gratitude though, the gruff Northman looking pleased but a little bashful.

“Couldn’t let anyone die like that, especially not a daughter of Skyrim. Anyway, come along. There’ll be stew already cooking!”

The blond Stormcloak proceeded on, heading to the mill run by his sister and her husband, with whom his wife was lodging for a time, since the Imperials had done a search that had nearly uncovered their previous lodgings, Stormcloak equipment and all. The mill currently was deserted, the family having retired to the kitchen to eat lunch, thus they made it to the front door without remark. Ralof knocked three times, in a distinct pattern, before opening the heavy wooden door.

“Ralof!” a pretty, perky young blonde woman, cried out, jumping from the table bench with spoon still in hand and springing over to him. Leaping into his arms, she hugged him dearly…until her eyes caught sight of Alette, and her jaw dropped.

“Birla!” Ralof returned, equally overjoyed, not aware of her sudden distraction, also calling to the older couple and boy still sat at the table, “and good to see you too Gerdur, Hod and Frodnar! I’d not hoped to see you before this winter, and if it weren’t for the disaster at Helgen, I think I wouldn’t have!”

Birla dropped from Ralof’s arms, still shocked into silence. Her eyes travelled down the near-nude Nord futa’s form, over the bare, fat tits, the scarred, muscled physique…the giant…well, yes, that.

“Who…?”
 
Ralof led them on a path that skirted the center of the village--probably for the best, Alette figured, what with the Imperials maybe still looking to behead the both of them. They encountered no one before reaching the door of a place near the currently-silent lumber mill. Alette knew she'd been away from Skyrim too long if she was really thinking of this kind of place as "rustic". Still, it looked cozy; not the kind of place that would stick out to soldiers, anyway. A solitary cow grazing outside lifted its head to regard them as they approached, and a pair of chickens hastened to move out of Ralof's way.

She followed him inside a step back, letting him bear the burden of initial greetings. From Birla's reception, Alette guessed her for Ralof's wife; she couldn't help but give her an approving once-over, not surprised a handsome fellow like him had done so well. As the thought entered her head, she was suddenly aware of the state of her cock, positively throbbing, thick pre-cum dripping from the flare to run down the bottom of the shaft. It wasn't often that she managed to forget about it, but the capture by the Imperials, and then the chaos at Helgen and the flight here, had done the job. And, with all that, she hadn't cum since the night before--nearly unprecedented.

Alette bit her lip--this wasn't the time. Composing herself with significant effort, she favored Birla with a friendly smile. "Alette Greenhand. Long story. He'll explain it better than me."
 
Ralof nodded as Alette passed the responsibility over to him, beginning to explain while Gerda hurried Frodnar into the other room, as he was gawking at Alette rather too blatantly for comfort.

"There was an attack at Helgen, and we were the only two I saw make it out alive. A...a dragon attack!"

He hurried on, over the confused, concerned noises from Birla, the older Gerda and Hod taking the new information seemingly in stride.

"The town was burned. Burned to ashes. If it wasn't for Alette, I may not have made it out alive. She's a traveler, coming in from Skyrim when she was taken into custody by the Imperials. She needs to go into hiding for a little, then I'll take her to see Ulfric. She's quite the fighter, we may be able to offer her some work."

Ralof's sister and her husband nodded, ushering Alette to come inside - her appearance was shocking to them, but more important was that she'd helped save Ralof's life, the rest could wait - but Birla was still aghast. Thick pearls of slippery pre-cum were plopping on the floor in fat little syrupy bursts.

"Why is she...? Why does she have...?"
 
Seeing the reaction of the other couple--the sister Ralof had mentioned, Alette presumed, and perhaps her husband--to their sudden arrival, and Ralof's story, Alette got the impression they were used to this kind of situation coming out of Ralof's work with the rebellion. She immediately felt safer being here. If they were in the know, that was less risk of either of them panicking and selling her and Ralof out. Family may have meant a lot to the Nords of Skyrim, but Alette had seen enough to know how that kind of thing so often fell by the wayside when soldiers came knocking with swords drawn.

The matter of the dragon, though...Alette was amazed they didn't burst out laughing. She was tempted to. The whole thing was so absurd: a dragon, just happening to attack Helgen right at the moment she was about to be executed? Why not Mehrunes fucking Dagon as well?

Birla's shocked stammering shook her back to the moment. "What, this?" she said with a grin, gesturing to her cock. "Short version, my father pissed off a witch who put a curse on his bloodline. Ask me about the long version sometime, it's much funnier." Turning to the sister, she composed herself more serious. "I appreciate the hospitality, really. If there's anything I can do to repay you, just ask." Part of her hoped they'd wave away the offer, but then, that would only leave the debt hanging over her head for later. Alette was far from a principled woman, but not paying back those who did you right was bad business as much as bad manners.
 
Ralof was equally shocked by how easily his family had taken the revelation of the dragon attack. Perhaps they were disbelieving, or thought it was a simplification...or, he reflected, perhaps they were all too shocked by the nude, enormously hung Nord woman he'd brought home with them and weren't processing his words all too well. Still, it made things simpler for the moment.

Birla seemed not especially comforted by Alette's explanation, and still had trouble tearing her eyes from the sheer size of the beast swinging between the mercenary's powerful thighs. She shook her head, trying to ignore it and pay attention to her returned husband like she ought.

"Um, the-there's stew if you're both hungry...?"

The two were led over to the long bench, with a large cast-iron pot bubbling in the centre full of a thick, meaty gravy, and a basket of steaming rolls just to the side. Birla leaned over the pot to ladle stew into bowls for her husband and their guest, while Hod leapt from the table to fetch more chairs from the other room. Ralof's wife was wearing a summery dress, much like Gerda, given the hot weather of late, and Birla's thighs were being quite boldly displayed to both Ralof and Alette. She'd clearly gotten used to dressing like only family were around.
 
The mention of food made Alette's stomach growl--she realized she hadn't eaten anything since the night before either. "Thanks much," she said with another smile at Birla, following the others over to the bench by the hearth.

As she waited for the others to settle in so she could find a seat herself, though, the sight of Birla's thighs beneath that short dress--well-toned, Alette noted, a sign of a working woman she respected--drew her attention back to the present state of her nethers, reminding her of her discomfort. Her balls ached with her lack of release; she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone this long without cumming. While the thought of waiting to eat was hardly appealing, she knew which was the more pressing concern. Hesitating, Alette considered her options. Under better circumstances, she might have seen if she could talk Birla or Ralof's sister around, but she didn't have the fortitude for the effort that would take. Another thought struck her...

"Actually, I need to step out for a minute," she said, turning to head for the door. "I'll be just outside. Don't wait."

The touch of the breeze sent a shiver through her, making her balls throb painfully. Shutting the door behind her, she spotted her goal: the family's cow, still standing just where it had been a minute ago, idly munching on the short grass outside the house. Approaching the beast from behind, she laid one hand on its rump to let it know of her presence, while with the other, she gently grasped its tail near the base and lifted it to the side. A glance down and a shifting of her hips; she felt warmth against the flared head of her cock, the entrance of the cow's sex. Without ceremony, Alette thrust her hips forward, burying herself in the animal, not quite to the base right away, knowing it would need a moment to adjust to the intrusion. However, she hardly paused before starting to work her hips back and forth, setting up an easy thrusting rhythm, working herself a little deeper each time.
 
Following Alette's direction, the family sat to lunch together - the first together in many months. Warm, crusty bread was broken. Stew, dark and thick with gelatin and marrow from the heavy mutton joint was ladled into heavy wooden bowls. Ralof answered questions - skeptical, astounded, horrified - as the group tried to come to terms with the fact that his choice of words had invoked no poetic exaggeration. A dragon had shown itself, real and mighty, roaring infernal flame from a bubbling throat, a piece of ancient history girt in armour too thick to be pierced by anything but the sharpest blade. Helgen was gone, razed to the ground. Hundreds had died. As his words sank in, lunch slowed, minds wandered and the gravity of the moment sobered the jollity of reunion.

It had been more than a couple of minutes, yet still Alette hadn’t returned. This slowly sank in, and Ralof seemed to notice it like a shock. She seemed well capable of taking care of herself, but he still felt a responsibility for her, after their shared experience.

“Alette’s not back. Better make sure she’s-“ he started, beginning to rise, but was stopped still by Birla placing her hand on his leg (rather close to his groin, his overheated libido noted, it having been some months of barracks-style living).

“No you don’t, you’re exhausted and you still haven’t properly eaten, answering all our questions. I’ll check on-“ she corrected, her melodious, sweet voice managing to be strangely stern, but she too was interrupted in turn by Gerdur’s mature, raspier Nordic drawl.

“No, you will both stay and I will check. I will not see you both separated again so soon.”

She rose, and Ralof sat. Gerdur was not a woman to be crossed once she’d made up her mind. Her long, farmhouse dress swayed to and fro as a powerful, shapely middle-aged body, one that had done it’s fair share of work, rose and exited the kitchen out into the yard. There was a…wet noise, rhythmic and quite distinct, that quickly led the woman to find Alette in her compromised position, slowly pressing her length back and forth into their heifer.

Gerdur was shocked, but Gerdur was also a woman of the world. She was not one to let her shock compromise her, even at the sight of a giant woman, pounding her cow right in their yard. Not to mention…the sight of that titanically long, thick, dripping slab of meat working its way in and out of their groaning beast…well, Gerdur’s husband Hod was dutiful, decent, but not powerful. The sight did put an itch in the woman that was difficult to ignore.

“I see you like your meat very fresh.” Gerdur remarked, dryly, as she approached carefully from the side.
 
It didn't take more than a few thrusts, once she bottomed out and felt her hips hitting the cow's backside, for Alette's senses to fog. The sound of talk from inside faded away with the rest of her surroundings, the lingering terror of her narrow escape from Helgen fell from her thoughts. All her attention was focused on what she was doing, the hot, wet passage hugging her erection, squeezing her tighter as the cow adjusted to the penetration.

The story she'd been told called it a curse. Alette had never liked to think of it that way. Certainly it had been a shock at first, waking up that morning as a teenager and finding her body so changed--but once she'd gotten used to it, she'd realized she couldn't be happier. Who cared if it made her stand out? Better than living her whole life without ever enjoying the wondrous, incredible pleasure it could bring her. Here she was, naked before the world, the sun and breeze on her skin, fucking like the animal she was currently balls-deep in, and she felt amazing. If that was wrong, she didn't want to be right.

The sound of the door opening hardly registered, but Ralof's sister's voice did succeed in bringing her back to reality somewhat. Alette chuckled, glancing over to regard her spectator through eyes lidded with pleasure. "I like to think of myself as a woman of taste..." For a second, she feared her hostess might try to stop her, but it seemed she had little to worry about. The feeling of curious eyes sent a thrill through her, spurring her to increase the force of her thrusts a step, hands braced on the cow's flanks. "Don't think I caught your name, by the way," she added, her voice a little breathy with the effort.
 
“Gerdur. Name’s Gerdur…” the woman mouthed, a little breathily as her eyes traced up the muscled legs and backside of Alette as they clenched and twitched with each thrust. She’d moved close enough now that they were practically standing side by side, the thick musk of sex and the wet, gooey noises of horse-cock penetrating obligingly moistening cow pussy filling the air.

Gerdur walked forward, reaching out a hand to trace fingertips alongside the cow’s – Tabby, as named by their child – flank. It was an odd thing, but she felt a need to see Tabby’s face. She wondered what it must feel like to have your moistening passage filled with so much throbbing meat.

The usually amiable, dim beast had stopped in its usual aimless chewing and was standing still, mouth lolled open and tongue licking mindlessly at empty air as it coped with the powerful sensations from its rear end. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes rolled back into her head. As Alette’s thrusts sped up, she lifted and lowered her hooves, walking briefly on the spot almost as though she was trying to flex and cope with the inner tension. Gerdur was fascinated, hearing a breathless grunt from her family cow – a noise she’d never heard before. She moved back to Alette, almost dreading the question she had to ask.

“Are you going to…finish in her? Can you…impregnate a cow? Just, you said it was a curse, so…maybe it would be better if you don’t finish inside?”

Gerdur almost, almost, blushed. A rare thing, indeed.
 
"Oh, don't worry about that," Alette replied. "I can only...mh...only knock up horses." She flashed Gerdur a grin. "Tell you the story of how I found that out sometime." She could see her impression hadn't been wrong: Gerdur's fascination was obvious. The mere fact that she hadn't shrieked and tried to drive Alette off with a stick showed it clear enough. Alette filed the knowledge away, in case she ended up staying on here a while, or came back another time...

Being asked about where she planned to cum had brought her nearly to the brink. As the cow's inner walls squeezed her particularly tightly, Alette felt her peak approaching. "Mm...hang on, one second..." Hilting herself all the way to the base, she rocked her hips in fast, shallow thrusts...almost...there. With a deep groan, Alette unloaded, her balls throbbing and tightening as they released their badly pent-up contents. Burying herself deep inside the cow, she felt the first thick spurt rush along the length of her cock before erupting, painting the animal's insides and overflowing to send droplets gushing out where their flesh joined. Of course, that was only the start of it--one regard in which her cock kept up with that of a real horse was in its output. Pulling back a fraction of an inch, Alette thrust in all the way again in time for the second spurt, as voluminous as the first. So she went on, for almost a minute--exceptional even for her, after going so long without--until thick, white horse spunk fairly poured out around her shaft.

At last, she felt the waves taper off into little ripples. Letting out a deep sigh, she steadied her footing and slowly withdrew her cock from the animal, her length sufficient that she actually had to take a step back to pull it out all the way. She felt a chill on her skin as the breeze cooled the slick of cum that still coated it. In the immediate aftermath of her orgasm, it had gone half-soft, a rarity; it hung heavy between her legs, thick drips of cum collecting at the tip of the flare before falling to land on the grass.

Catching her breath, she turned to face Gerdur, smiling. "Sorry about that. This thing needs a lot of attention, and it'd been a while." She glanced over her hostess' shoulder, toward the door. "Don't suppose there's any lunch left by now?"
 
Tabby the cow had no idea what was awaiting her, and neither did Gerdur. The married woman had heard Alette’s assurance and murmured a soft, pre-occupied “Oh, okay…” as though she’s been told something perfectly reasonable. Her hand had actually begun to slip between her thighs, pressing into her dress, when she’d heard Alette tell her to wait a second. It had taken more for a second for the woman to realise what was about to happen.

“Oh-oh wow” she breathed, as she could hear the first jet of cum working its way up that colossal length rammed inside her poor, unsuspecting animal. It was a wet, gurgling, frothing noise, dulled by hot flesh, not unlike the sound as the wedge was removed from the mill’s waterwheel and it started turning.

“Oh…Oh Talos…” came the unthinking moan from Gerdur, as she heard Tabby groan wildly, head swaying side to side as more thick, potent jizz pounded into her insides than any bull had ever delivered. The splashing of seed at their feet grew from drops into thick, creamy wads that burst onto the grass and left the normally dry soil dark with obscene moisture.

Gerdur’s hand crushed into her embarrassingly moist sex, through the scratchy cloth of her dress, as the orgasm went on and on, full cups of horse spunk pouring onto the ground, leaving goodness knows how much in the poor, whining animal who was making pathetic attempts to pull herself off the pulsating invader but getting nowhere. As Alette finally withdrew her cream-coated cock from Tabby, she lowered herself down onto the floor, breathing heavily.

Gerdur’s eyes tried to look at Alette’s as she asked her a question, but her gaze kept being dragged down.

“Um…probably – probably not. Maybe you’d best…wipe that off before…?” she nudged, nervously.
 
Though freshly satisfied, Alette's endowment always kept its desires close to her thoughts, and seeing Gerdur so obviously enchanted with it--she was practically masturbating in front of Alette, for gods' sakes--had her feeling rather proud of herself. Half on purpose, she stood with hand on hip, presenting herself openly for the mature woman's admiration.

"Mm, fair enough," she agreed at the suggestion. "Er...I don't really have anything to use, though." She made a show of glancing down at herself to show she wasn't carrying anything, then shrugging. "I can wait out here if you have a towel or something." She wondered, would Gerdur simply go and fetch one? Alette had a sneaking suspicion her hostess had another idea in mind, but she felt no need to press the issue. Besides, she was hungry.
 
Gerdur looked furtively over at the still-closed kitchen door. They’d been gone a while now, there was a risk that it could open at any moment, one of them walking out to see the compromising situation of her standing so close to that thick, cream-coated meat, dangling so close within her reach…

She licked her lips.

“I…if I get a towel, they might ask why…” she excused, feebly.

Her tongue dabbed at her lips again, and she just, imperceptibly began to crouch down.

“Hey Gerdur, everything okay!” Hod’s voice called out, the door not fully open but just cracked. She jumped, like a whip had just cracked by her head.

“Yes! All’s fine! She was just…asking…some questions!” the woman called back, discouraging further questions with her tone. She looked back at Alette one more time, with a hint of longing, before springing away to return to the safety of the lunch table.
 
Alette had to laugh as Gerdur darted back inside, looking like a child caught with a finger in the honey jar. She was a little disappointed, true--it would've been nice to have her hostess follow through on whatever she'd intended--but whatever it was, it could wait. Meanwhile, the food was probably getting cold. Suppressing a last chuckle, Alette followed Gerdur back into the house, paying little heed to the fact that her cock was still coated with an impressive amount of cum, which began dripping onto the floor as she entered.

"Sorry about that," she repeated to the assembled. "Just had to scratch an itch." With one need satisfied for the moment, she could focus on the next, eagerly accepting whatever food Ralof's family offered and wolfing down every bite with relish, remembering thanks only once she had her mouth full. Mindful of being a guest in the home of strangers, she made little effort to insert herself into the conversation, eating in silence unless someone asked her something. While her cock had flagged briefly after her round with the cow, in short order it was back to its usual state, rising fully hard above her lap, though thankfully no longer throbbing so hard, nor adding more precum to the sticky load that slowly dried and caked its length, along with her thighs.
 
Alette’s return had definitely made an impression. Rolf had been in the middle of an animated description of the way the dragon had moved, with hand gestures and the use of a handy bread crust as a visual aid, so he’d only briefly flickered his gaze over to see that his companion was back without catching the details. Birla – and Hod, on the other side of the table facing the door – had gotten quite the eyeful, however. You could follow Alette’s route to her seat on the bench, just to Birla’s left, from the fat wet droplets of cream that regularly punctuated her path from the entrance.

Gerdur’s eyes were looking away bashfully. She knew how it must look to them, but what could she have said? ‘Nothing to do with me, she was mounting the cow’? She tried to ignore it, and encouraged Rolf in his descriptions to distract herself.

As that sticky cock gradually twitched itself back to stiffness, right next to Rolf's pretty blond wife, Birla was finding it difficult to concentrate. It was in plain view, thick and veiny and caked in what could only be jizz, from the rich smell. It was just standing there, lolling meatily against the wooden table, right next to their food. She near jumped at one point with a little swallowed squeak, as a particularly heavy dribble fell on her hand while Alette rose to take a helping from a far bowl. It was a meal that none of them would forget soon, for different reasons.

Eventually though, it did come to an end, and the family moved back to work. Rolf looked to his equipment, rehoning his sword after his and Alette’s dramatic escape had put a few notches in the tip. Birla went back to her sewing. Gerdur and Hod tilled ground, continuing the preparations for the new season’s planting. Day turned into early evening, and people began retiring to their rooms. Alette had been shown to the hastily prepared but pleasant room to the side of the wood-shed, used for summer worked during the harvesting.

Rolf looked across the bed at his beautiful, lithe, toned young wife in her nightclothes, creamy thighs and bare feet in a coquettish pose as she crooked her fingers in a ‘come-hither’ to their bed. He felt his length twitch in his breaches, and she noticed his discomfort with a sly bite of her bottom lip. He only had one thing left to do this evening…and damn it, it was better to have it done.

“Save that for me. Just need to tell Alette what the plan is for tomorrow…then we can make up for lost time” he chuckled, and she smiled warmly, a hand sliding teasingly up the inside of a bare leg, tracing over her warm, moist sex.

Sighing longingly, the bare-chested stormcloak left their room and the house to go out into the warm evening air, heading over to the guest room. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t there…
 
With her hunger seen to, and her accommodations for the night handled, Alette had put herself at her hosts' disposal for any work they needed done around the place. She'd never been given to nostalgia, but this was one thing she'd missed about Skyrim--how simple these things were. You showed up on someone's doorstep broke, hungry, and nowhere else to go, folk remembered the virtues of hospitality. And they didn't try to clean out your pockets; they knew the value of a dedicated hand pitching in. Nice and direct.

Hod had put her to work at the endless chore of chopping firewood, and as afternoon turned into evening, she felt proud of how much she'd added to the pile in the shed. She'd shed her armor, preferring to work in just her boots, a fresh sheen of sweat gleaming on her skin as she set down the axe. Her shoulders ached with the exertion--good pain.

With the sun setting, the chill of night had started to creep over the village, and Alette contemplated her bed. However, her thoughts were thrown off track as the memory of earlier, Gerdur's wide-eyed awe, rose to the surface. Alette wasn't the least bit surprised to feel her cock throb, twitching visibly had anyone else been around to see, even after her earlier relief; this had been business as usual for years. Biting her lip, she glanced around the yard, wondering where...

The family kept an outhouse off the cottage, and as Alette turned, she spotted Gerdur on her way back. A smile touching her lips, she waved, moving to meet her hostess halfway. "Turning in for the night?"
 
"Oh! You're still up?" Gerdur replied, catching slightly with a wry shake of her head as she realised the double meaning of what she'd just said. "Yes, it's getting to that time, Hod likes to turn in early, so..."

Her voice trailed off, as her gaze caught on the throbbing, more than foot-long horse-cock that was covering a fair bit of the distance between the two, twitching threateningly at her, a dark, angry red. Every time Gerdur had caught a glimpse of the futa woman through the day, she'd still been rock-hard. How was it even possible? What curse could leave someone so...potent?

"Had the chance to clean off, then?" she teased, remembering what she'd caught Alette doing earlier that day, "I hope you haven't been pestering Tabby any more? Poor girl isn't used to so much excitement"

Looking up at the tall, overbearing barbiarian, Gerdur's eyes flashed with dark amusement, before trailing down her swollen, bare breasts and tight, muscled abs, back to her groin.

"Does it - does it ever go down? How do you manage?"

For a brief moment, she reached out with a hand to touch the plump, swollen head, though she stopped before she got there, self-consciously returning her hand to her side. The movement coaxed the sleeve of her coarse woolen dress off her shoulder. The slender toning hinted that even in her middle-age, Gerdur had quite the fit body under there.
 
Alette chuckled ruefully. "You get used to it, I guess. It does go down when I'm really distracted from it, in a battle or something like that. The rest of the time, halfway is pretty much as close as it gets." She shot a meaningful glance at Gerdur's hand--she'd seen the movement, obviously. "No need to be shy. You can touch if you want." With an easy grin, she thrust her hips forward to present her erection, looking expectantly at the mature, fit housewife.
 
Gerdur gasped gently at the offer, and the shameless proffering of Alette's swollen meat, "I shouldn't, I-I'm married. My husband is waiting for me to come to bed. I-..."

Her voice drifted away to nothing, her eyes wide as her tongue slipped out to briefly wet her lips, subconsciously. A warmth spread through her body, visible in her cheeks and the slight glaze over her eyes, but that warmth most definitely spread to more difficult-to-see places.

"I...maybe just to see if it feels the same as a normal one..." she excused, feebly.

Her finger nudged the powerful, musky cockhead. Then two. They grazed over the tip. Before long, her shapely hand was wrapped around the plump, red tip, feeling the warmth and stickiness and the sheer, latent animal sexiness of the thing like it was soaking into her skin. She didn't dare to move, not yet. But she couldn't bear to pull her hand away. She was in a Alette's spell, standing perfectly visible outside their mill, unable to release that pulsating fuckmeat.

"Talos...it's, it's bigger than my hand. Just the tip!"
 
Alette let out a slow, deep sigh as Gerdur wrapped her hand around the flared head of her cock, her eyelids fluttering. "That feels lovely..." Gently, she hooked a finger under Gerdur's chin and lifted her head to catch her eye, gaze filled with smoky desire. "Gerdur, you're a beautiful woman, and you deserve to indulge yourself if you want to. Your husband will understand, I'm sure." She took a step forward, her cock nearly prodding Gerdur. "I saw how you looked at me earlier. I know you're curious. Let me satisfy that curiosity."

She toyed with possibilities; just how did she want to enjoy her lovely hostess? The back wall of the woodshed, behind the room she'd been offered for the night, caught her eye. "Come over here," she purred, taking Gerdur by the hand and leading her over. Turning back to face her, Alette leaned her shoulders against the wall and set her feet apart, thrusting her hips forward again. "Go ahead," she urged softly, one hand trailing up her side, cupping her breast. "Feel free to explore." As if to punctuate her point, her cock gave another powerful throb, a thick drip of precum welling up to fall with a soft plip on the grass at their feet.
 
Gerdur’s felt a scalding hot trickle of her juices dribble down her thighs as Alette murmured her pleasure, the older woman feeling sexual in a long-forgotten way, surrendering herself to the seductive power of being able to influence this strong, warrior-woman by playing with her cock. She softly grazed her teeth over her lower lip, rubbing her hand back and forth a few inches, wanting more of those reactions – wanting to coax more pleasure out of Alette.

“I just, I’ve never seen anything like…Hod’s-Hod’s is nothing compared to…” she replied, blushing at the compliments, surrendering to the hopeful fantasy that there would be no consequences.

She was helpless to refuse as she was led behind the woodshed, almost dazed as she walked beside the nude futa. She was panting, her legs squeezing together in her overheated state as Alette leaned back against the wall, presenting herself to be enjoyed. The sight of that giant cock throbbing, becoming momentarily even more thick, juicy and potent, that thick transparent dollop of excitement flowing from the slippery tip – Gerdur moaned.

Reaching for it again, with both hands this time, she groped at the head and eagerly sought out left-over smear of pre-cum, excitedly rubbing it around the tip and loving the slippery smooth feeling of it between her fingers. Her other hand – god, it was so tiny in comparison – gripped the shaft around mid-way, stroking back and forth almost worshipfully, barely managing to encircle half of the meaty, dripping diameter.

“You make so much! I saw earlier. Please, I want more. Let out more of your juices. What can I do? I’ll do anything!”

Propriety was gone, it was clear. Like so many before, Gerdur was another bitch in heat for Alette’s animal lustiness. Her hands were frantic, sliding along the steely length, groping at the balls, running her palm and fingers over the tip.
 
Alette's throaty chuckle became a low moan as Gerdur wrapped her hands around her shaft, smearing her precum over the head and stroking so eagerly. It hadn't taken her long, once she'd adjusted to having it, to learn that few women could really resist her cock when it came down to it. Fondly, she recalled her first adventures, making her way down the list of every adult woman in her village...happy times.

Her first answer to Gerdur's question was to lean forward, grab her hips, and pull her close to crush their lips together in a heated kiss. Alette took her time, caressing with her tongue, probing her hostess' warm mouth. Bringing their bodies so close together left her cock pressed between them, the head nearly reaching as high as their breasts; it occurred to her that she'd most likely just left an impressive stain on Gerdur's clothes. That wouldn't do.

Breaking the kiss, she held Gerdur's face close, their mouths still nearly touching, breaths mingling. "If you want to help me cum," she purred, "you can start by losing the dress." Again, her cock throbbed, Gerdur no doubt feeling it as much as she did herself.
 
The married woman’s surprised gasp melted away in the muffled kiss, letting her mouth fall compliantly open and allowing the larger woman to ravish her mouth freely. She felt the rod between them all the way from her waist to the middle of her chest, an obscene stiff pillar it felt like her body was wrapped around. She moaned heatedly into the kiss, grinding herself against that beautiful horse-cock, using her body like a hand as best as she could to make sure to keep pleasuring Alette – she never wanted to stop pleasing that perfect animal meat.

Her groans only increased as she felt a wet, warm stickiness around her chest, realising that she’s managed to milk out enough pre-cum to soak through the fabric of her dress and start coating her breasts. She crushed herself harder against it, desperate to draw more juice out of those huge, boiling balls.

As Alette told her to remove her dress, Gerdur felt her pussy leak, shamelessly. She hadn’t been naked in front of anyone but her husband for years, and now she was going to be naked in front of Alette who she hadn’t even known for a day…she was shocked at herself, but she was certainly not going to refuse the powerful futa beauty.

She crouched down, breathing in the smell of Alette’s length as her face got close, rubbing it against her cheek. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she stood again, drawing it up, revealing long, lean, muscled legs, small grey woollen panties, a shaped flat stomach without an ounce of fat on it and perky moderately-sized breasts with pronounced, erect nipples shiny with Alette’s pre-cum. For her age, Gerdur looked very impressive from all her physical work. Hard muscle and smooth skin, wide hips and a lithe, athletic look. She stood almost-nude before the futa, eyes looking down, bashful and coy.
 
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