The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Road Trip, Wisconsin – Slut Walk

As it turned out, I got Gretchen to scream three times, loud enough her parents could hear her, though only on the first did she squirt. This time, it was me buried between her thighs, not Ingrid. It was the same rules as last night, except we were down to ten swats per orgasm, as I didn’t intend letting her off with just one. Ingrid was kissing her and licking Gretchen’s swollen tits. They weren’t laden in milk yet, too early in her pregnancy, but like everything else on a pregnant woman, they were bigger.

Gretchen knew she’d be spanked if she climaxed without my permission, and that I planned to give her more than just one. There had to be some impetus to being edged. She’d managed to deal with twenty firm swats last night. That wasn’t enough of a threat. If she knew ten was the limit, she’d cum when she was good and ready, and not when I knew she’d pop properly.

I believe that I did the very best job of licking pussy that I’d ever managed. I hadn’t licked pussy for years as Gretchen had, only a few months. I tried to stay away from her clit, wanting to tease her as long as possible to set her up for the kill. I even ignored pushing my slim fingers into her lovely bald slit for a long time. Despite lacking the extra stimulus of tongue to clit, and fingers to g-spot, her sweet cunt had flowered, and was dripping her honey, a trail of her juices sliding down between her ass cheeks and dribbling over her puckered starfish.

In all my previous dalliances with Gretchen, I’d ignored her ass. Let’s face it, I was a licker, and the brown hole wasn’t something I normally licked. If I’d used a dildo on her, it was in her honeyed sheathe, and not her tight little asshole. But I enjoyed anal sex, and many of my friends did as well. Perhaps Gretchen did or would herself if presented in the right way, say without a man’s cock pushing into her, which I knew she wasn’t fond of, but perhaps a slim feminine finger or two.

So I licked until she was positively squirming in delight, her pussy awash from her arousal. Gretchen needed permission to cum, but she wasn’t quite there, despite the stimulation Ingrid and I were providing. It reached the point she wanted to cum in the worst way, so instead of begging for permission, she was begging to cum.

When Gretchen was sufficiently stoked, and a rivulet was flowing from her slit, lubricating my intended target, I finally inserted a slim finger in her pussy, and began brushing my lips and tongue over her clit. It didn’t take long for her potential orgasm to build. Then her pleading shifted to permission to cum, because she was close, and getting closer by the second. All the signs were there, peaked breasts, flowering slit, taut muscles, anticipatory quivering in her legs and abdomen.

I was silent in response, my mouth otherwise engaged in giving Gretchen pleasure.

Her pleading intensified. “Mistress, please, I’m begging you, I won’t be able to last much longer. I’m going to explode. Please let me cum.”

Her pleading ignored, as I continued my assault on her pussy, although now a finger from my other hand slid down her lubed crack to her anal opening. I’m sure she felt the light pressure, but ignored it for the other things I was doing to her body, and the release she so desperately craved.

“Oh, God, Mistress. I’m on fire. Please let me cum.”

The second I felt the inevitable approaching, I shoved an additional finger in her pussy, sucked and nibbled on her clit, and shoved the other finger as deep in her ass as I could go.

She hadn’t lied, Gretchen did explode, with a scream that might have broken windows a block away, a gush of juices so profuse I could have swum in it, and her thighs locked so tight on my head, I thought she’d crush my skull. I kept up my offensive on all of her pleasure zones, and her hips and ass were bouncing up and down on her bed as if she was suffering a seizure. The pressure on my head only slightly decreased as she spasmed and I heard her scream two more times, just below eardrum shattering volume, though the flood slowly dwindled to a trickle. The screaming eventually stopped, perhaps her throat was sore, or her lungs no longer had enough air, but I got eight more orgasms out of her before I pulled back, and withdrew my fingers from the continued contractions in her pussy and ass.

Gretchen was gasping for breath, panting like she’d run a marathon.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” The first words out of her mouth.

“Ten more swats for not addressing me as Mistress.”

“Where the fuck did that come from, Mistress?”

“I’m not sure. I felt we needed something big to celebrate, and that was something big.”

“No lie, Mistress, that was the best orgasm anyone has ever given me, bar none. That was a wolf worthy orgasm. I’ve never felt as loved and worshipped as you made me feel.”

“It’s a good thing, because I’m making you change the sheets, slut. You drenched me. I’m soaked. I need to take a shower.”

Gretchen sat up on her elbows so she could look over her tummy at me.

“Eww, you’re disgusting, Mistress,” Gretchen laughed.

“Is everything all right down there?” Sue called down the stairs.

“Your daughter drenched me in pussy juice. She squirted and I have to take a shower before I paddle her ass a hundred and ten times for orgasming without permission, and neglecting to call me Mistress,” I shouted back.

“She what?”

“Squirted all over me, soaked the bed, shattered my eardrums, and tried to rip my head off with her thighs. Do you want to see Gretchen get her ass turned red for flaunting my rules?”

Sue came down the stairs in a housecoat, and nothing else as far as I could see. She looked at the ruin of Gretchen’s bed.

“Is that pee? Did she pee on you?”

“Pussy juice, Mom. I squirted for the second night in a row. It’s not pee.”

“And that was you screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors?”

“It definitely was,” I said. “My ears are still ringing, even though Gretchen had my ears covered with her thighs. Almost popped my head off like a zit.”

Gretchen hit me.

“Ten more swats to your bare ass, toots.”

“It smells like a whorehouse down here,” Sue said.

“When did you ever smell a whorehouse, Mom?” Gretchen asked.

While Sue pondered that question, Gretchen got out of bed, pulled Ingrid and me off, and started to pull off the sheets, handing me an otherwise dry pillowcase to wipe my face. I really was a mess. My hair was dripping.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

“We don’t have a shower down here, Mistress. Have Mom take you to the shower upstairs. I don’t know if you smell like a whorehouse, but you definitely smell like my pussy.”

“You really are a mess,” Sue said.

“Gretchen was trying to drown me,” I said. “A clear case of attempted homicide. I’ll need to have her arrested and clapped in irons. When she’s totally helpless, I’ll have my way with her, teach her right from wrong, good from bad, pussy from cock, and corn flakes from frosted oats.”

All three started to laugh. “Is that really pussy juice?” Sue said.

“I was in the line of fire, my face right where I wanted it to be, when she had this monster orgasm.” I licked my fingers. “Definitely pussy juice.”

“Damn, that must have been some orgasm,” Sue said.

“Best one I ever had,” Gretchen replied. “Jessica has grown in the powers of the Force. If she wasn’t fucking cocks, I’d have to issue her a lesbian card.”

I did a little curtsy, made awkward by my tummy. “Ta-da. Point me in the proper direction to perform my ablutions.”

I followed Sue upstairs and down one of the halls. James had come to the stairway to the upstairs and saw the bedraggled, damp, and totally nude self, pass by to duck into the guest bathroom.

“What happened to her?” he asked Sue.

“Don’t ask. I’m not sure you want to know the answer, James.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently, our daughter is capable of discharging vast amounts of pussy juice.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to know.” I heard him laughing as he went back to bed.

Sue handed me a big towel. “I’m glad you’re having so much fun.”

“Me too,” I smiled. “I’m really glad Gretchen is moving to Maine.”

“I’d kiss you goodnight, but, you know, pussy juice,” Sue said, a gleam in her eye. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks.”