The road stretched ahead, a ribbon of packed earth cutting through rolling grasslands that shimmered gold under the midday sun. Four figures moved along it in a loose formation that hadn't yet settled into anything comfortable.
Stark walked slightly ahead, his axe strapped across his back, his shoulders stiff. He hadn't said more than three words since they'd left the Auenbach inn. The innkeeper had been compensated handsomely—Schwanz had made good on his promise, tossing a pouch of gold coins onto the counter with a wink that made the old man sputter—and now they were on their way. To where exactly, Stark still wasn't entirely sure.
Behind him, Frieren drifted along at her own pace, nose buried in her grimoire. Her boots scuffed the dirt occasionally, but she never stumbled. Centuries of practice, probably. She turned a page with a soft rustle, eyes and brows placid as still water.
And behind her—
SMACK!
The sound cut through the afternoon air like a thunderclap. Stark's spine went rigid. His boots stopped moving. That was flesh on flesh. That was a palm connecting with something plush and rounded. He knew that sound now. He'd heard it through a wall, had imagined it in the dark of his cramped room, had jerked himself raw to its rhythm.
Stark turned his head, just slightly, just enough to confirm.
Schwanz's hand was splayed across Fern's left ass cheek. The purple-haired mage had jolted forward a half-step from the impact, her violet eyes wide, her lips parted. The cheek in question—generous, perfectly curved, straining against her mage's robe—was still jiggling from the force of the spank. Schwanz hadn't even broken stride. He just grinned, that insufferable, cocky grin, and squeezed.
"M-Mr. Schwanz!" Fern's voice came out as a strangled yelp. "We are walking! On a public road!"
"And?" Schwanz's hand kneaded her flesh once, twice, before sliding away. "Your ass looks magnificent in this light. A man would be a fool not to appreciate it."
Stark opened his mouth. Hot and sharp emotion was climbing up his throat. Words, protests, maybe a challenge. His fingers twitched toward his axe.
Then Schwanz's hand came up, cupped Fern's chin, and turned her face toward his.
The kiss happened before Stark could form a syllable.
"Mmmpph…!"
It wasn't a peck. It wasn't shy. Schwanz's mouth descended on Fern's with the confidence of a man who had spent the last twelve hours learning every inch of her body. His lips slanted across hers, and Fern—Fern, who had just protested, who had called him a bastard and a pervert—made a sound. A small, needy, throaty sound that carried on the breeze straight to Stark's ears.
"Mmnn…"
Her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands, which had been balled at her sides, came up to grip the front of his tunic.
Schwanz's other hand found her hip, then slid around to the small of her back, then lower. Both palms now cupped the swell of her ass, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her robe, pulling her flush against him. Fern arched into it, her generous breasts pressing flat against his broad chest.
And then the kiss deepened.
Stark watched, frozen mid-step, as Schwanz's tongue pushed past Fern's lips. He could see the way her jaw went slack to accommodate him, the way her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on the invading muscle. The wet, slick sounds of their mouths working together filled the quiet country air.
"Schlrrpp… mlem… glughh…"
They kept walking too.
Saliva welled up at the corners of their joined lips. A thick, glistening bead of it escaped and traced a path down Fern's chin, dropping onto the collar of her robe. Neither of them seemed to notice or care. Schwanz's head tilted, changing the angle, and Fern moaned—actually moaned—into his mouth.
Her tongue lashed back against his. Stark could see the flashes of pink between their lips, the way they tangled and wrestled, the way Schwanz would pull back just enough to let a bridge of spit connect them before diving back in. Fern's fingers tightened in his tunic. Her hips pressed forward, seeking friction.
"Schlk… schlrrpppp…"
The pathetic lewd noises were all from Fern. Walking and making out with this bastard, and Stark realized they didn't let it slow them.
"Getting better," Schwanz murmured against her mouth. "Your tongue work's improving, greedy girl."
Fern's response was to bite his lower lip and pull.
She tugged it back, stretching the plump flesh before letting it snap back into place. Then she was kissing him again, harder, her tongue plunging into his mouth with a hunger that made Stark's stomach clench. One of Schwanz's hands left her ass and came up to tangle in her purple hair, gripping the ponytail at the base of her skull. He used the grip to angle her head exactly how he wanted it.
"Your goatee scratches…" Fern gasped between kisses. "I… schlrrpp…"
"You like it?"
"N-nnggh, shut up…"
"Say you like it, Fern." A small pull back and a smirk to meet. "Come on, honey."
Fern huffed. "F-fine. I like it…"
"Yeah?" Schwanz grinned and kissed her lips. He pulled sensually on those luscious heart-shaped lips. "Tell me more."
"It's… mmnn… masculine. Rough. I—" She broke off to suck his tongue into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing obscenely. "Mmmmm…"
Stark's feet had somehow started moving again. He was walking, putting one foot in front of the other, his eyes fixed on the distant city gates. He tried to keep them there. He really did.
But the sounds kept coming. The wet smack of lips. The soft, breathy moans. The orders from Schwanz followed by Fern's indignant, flustered noises that inevitably dissolved back into kissing.
"Fern, say it louder…!"
"I-I want to kiss your cock later…"
"Louder."
"I-I wanna kiss your cock later—mmpph~!"
Hand pulling her cheek in, his tongue went in deep. Huge droplets of saliva fell. Just glancing over for a second made Stark's stomach churn. His dick twitched in envy too.
'They're so close. They've known each other barely a day. One day. And she's… she's kissing him like that. Like she can't breathe without his tongue in her mouth….'
"Mmm, you've really gotten better."
Fern had this weakness to her voice. And her eyes—if Stark stood in Schwanz's place, he would have seen the vulnerability in them as well. "Y-yeah?"
"Really. So much better. Honestly, you really should just follow what I say for the rest of your life."
"S-shut up—nnggh~!"
Another deep kiss.
"Don't you feel so much happier this way?" Schwanz whispered. "I know you do. You're so wet!"
A breathy remark from Schwanz to Fern. Stark's jaw tightened. He glanced over his shoulder. He relaxed and exhaled loudly through his nostrils, trying to brush it off. He couldn't. One day. One damn day and they were acting like a horny married couple that hadn't seen each other in years.
'What about me, Fern?'
"I've been meaning to ask," Stark said, his voice coming out flatter than he intended. He directed the words at Frieren, who was still walking beside him, still reading. "Where exactly are we taking him?"
Frieren turned a page. "The city of Vestahl. There's a ball being held there."
"A ball?"
"Mmhm." Frieren's luminous green eyes didn't leave the text. "Lord Schwanz needs to attend. Political obligations, I believe about trade agreements between his territory and the Vestahl council."
Stark glanced back over his shoulder. Schwanz now had both hands on Fern's ass, lifting her slightly as they walked, her feet nearly leaving the ground. She was making tiny, desperate sounds into his mouth. A fresh cascade of saliva dripped from her chin onto the road.
"And he's… coming with us the whole way?"
"Did I not tell you?"
"No." Frieren well and truly forgot to tell him.
"Oh. To answer your question: yes. That would be the implication of 'joining the party,' so yes, he will be coming with us the whole way."
"How long?"
Frieren finally looked up. "A month. Perhaps three weeks, depending on weather and monster activity along the route."
A month. Three weeks. Stark would be walking behind—or ahead of—this for a month.
"Great," he muttered.
"Hmm?" Frieren tilted her head.
"Nothing. Just… great."
Behind them, Fern and Schwanz had apparently reached a temporary ceasefire. The kissing sounds subsided, replaced by heavy breathing and the rustle of clothing being adjusted. Footsteps quickened until they fell into pace with Stark and Frieren.
"Everything alright up here?" Schwanz asked, his voice infuriatingly cheerful. "You two are so quiet. Not enjoying the scenery?"
Stark's eye twitched. "The scenery."
"Yes! Look at these rolling hills. That distant mountain range. The wildflowers dotting the roadside." Schwanz spread his arms wide, nearly smacking Fern in the face. "Glorious, isn't it? This is what adventuring is all about!"
Fern, slightly behind him, was dabbing at her chin with a handkerchief. Her face was flushed a deep crimson. Her hair was mussed. Her robe was slightly askew, revealing more cleavage than usual. She looked thoroughly debauched and desperately trying to pretend otherwise.
"Question," Stark said, his tone carefully neutral.
"Ask away, my friend."
"Why didn't you get us a carriage?"
Schwanz blinked and shrugged it off with a good-natured chuckle. "A carriage! Why would I want a carriage when I can walk?"
"Because walking takes a month. A carriage would take a week."
"Exactly!" Schwanz clapped Stark on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. "A month of fresh air! A month of adventure! A month of—" his eyes slid to Fern, then back to Stark "—taking in the sights. I want to, ah, take in this adventure! Every moment of it!"
Stark stared at him. 'He just wants to fuck Fern longer…'
Schwanz stared back, grinning. Frankly, he didn't even have the decency to look abashed. "I want to do many things, young Stark. Walking is good for the constitution. Builds stamina." He winked. "A young man like yourself should understand that."
Stark did understand. He understood perfectly. This man had decided he wanted Fern, had decided he wanted to plow her every night for the next month, and had apparently structured their entire travel arrangement around that goal.
"Try not to get my apprentice pregnant," Frieren suddenly commented, to which Fern turned into a bright tomato-esque shade of red.
"M-Master—"
"Please do not worry," Schwanz said, laughing it off. Yet, with an uptick of respect, he added, "There will be nothing of the sort."
Fern wanted to grumble or say something. She didn't quite know how to respond to such an accusation and just pouted.
Stark slowed down pace, closing the distance between himself and Fern. "Uh, hey."
"Hello."
A beat of silence that Stark immediately filled with, "How are you doing? Hopefully the walk isn't too bad."
"It's not."
Dammit, that pause again. Stark quickly, almost out of obligation and need, said, "I'm sorry."
What an awkward beat again. He swore he saw Fern's leg stutter in her walk. "That's…it's fine."
"Even that, uh, thing about you being plump?"
Her brow twitched. And yet, she didn't blow up or deadpan him. Fern gave an unorthodox response: "It's fine." She…actually accepted his apology.
It felt wrong. It felt awkward.
Stark smiled, but he didn't feel too much relief. "Cool. Yeah, uh, thanks. Thanks for, uh…" Forgiving him? Really?
As if to skip the conversation, Fern hurried her steps and caught right up to Schwanz. Seeing her hips sway, imagining that thicc ass of hers getting pressed and highlighted in that white dress, Stark chewed on the inside of his cheek.
His feelings for Fern were—
Smack!
"Good girl," said Schwanz, right after his ass smack. Stark glimpsed the blush on Fern. He burned with envy. "Always coming back to me, hm?"
Schwanz then whispered something in Fern's ear. She lit up red right after. Stark didn't need super hearing to know that he was suggesting sex.
"Ugh…" Stark looked away. "I bet they'll do it when we camp…"
***
ONE HOUR LATER — FRIEREN POV
'I should talk to him, I think.'
That was the feeling Frieren got at this moment of time. The sun had sunk low, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose, and Frieren's group made camp in a small clearing beside a stream, the water burbling softly. Stark busied himself gathering firewood while Fern unpacked their supplies. Frieren sat on a fallen log, her grimoire open in her lap, and her staff propped against her shoulder.
Frieren effectively got a view of everything and everyone.
Obviously, Stark was the one she kept the keenest eye on. His knees seemed wobbly. 'Probably because of all the kissing. I guess he's not used to a friend becoming…'
Her eyes flicked over to Schwanz.
'Horny.'
Schwanz, for his part, was behaving and stretched out on a bedroll with the boneless contentment of a well-fed cat. His eyes tracked Fern as she moved around the camp, lingering on the sway of her hips.
"Need any help?" Schwanz asked.
"No," Fern said primly and predictably. "You can sit there and look useless."
"I excel at that."
Stark dropped an armful of wood near the fire pit. "I'll get the fire going."
The evening settled around them. Stark built the fire. Kindling first, then larger branches, then the thick logs that would burn through the night. Sparks flew up into the darkening sky, joining the first emerging stars.
They ate a simple meal of dried meat, hard bread, and cheese. The conversation was sparse. Frieren read. Stark decided to go some distance and sit against a tree, blanket wrapped around him. Eyes peering over her back, seeing that he was just barely within the range of the fire, she asked, 'What's he doing there?'
Then her eyes travelled to the opposite of Stark.
"Oh."
Firstly, she saw that Fern's robe was discarded near the bank. Second, Fern's milky fat booty was raised up high and in between Schwanz's legs. The cocky bastard was smirking, all the while lewd strokes echoed.
Schlick, schlich, schliiick!
"Good girl…!"
It was obvious what was happening even in the dark. Fern was stroking Schwanz's cock with hands. Those arms were moving up and down, up and down. Fern was kissing his cock. Of course she was kissing it. In that one glance, Frieren could see the lengthy beige-tinted dick. What a size.
Smirking, Schwanz had one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her booty.
"Schlrrpp… mmmm…" Fern pulled back, a strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to the tip of his dick.
Frieren looked away. She focused on her grimoire. She ignored the gagging as Fern went deeper.
"Come on, Fern, keep going!"
Schwanz was quite a man, Frieren had to admit. Did not seem to care whatsoever about tact. Making out with Fern and now making her worship his cock? Mm. Frieren closed her legs together and tried to ignore the, "Mmmph!" and "Aggnkkk!"
It was nigh-impossible. Glancing at her surroundings, she suddenly understood why Stark was some distance away now. 'I really should talk to him later, but…'
Again, Frieren couldn't stop herself from gazing at Fern and her dedication. Fern literally tucked a piece of hair over her ear, saliva oozing from her lips, one hand still stroking that massive cock, and then went down.
Fern was struggling. Going in deep was not easy for her young throat.
"Hrm."
Frieren suddenly remembered the stud's offer. She also thought, 'I could do better.' That was all she needed as motivation and Frieren closed the grimoire and got up.
She didn't announce herself. She simply walked toward the lewd couple and began unlacing her tunic. Frieren's hands acted unhurried, casual, as if she were preparing for a bath and nothing more.
Schwanz looked up. He let out a whistle seeing Frieren. "Well, well…"
The drop of clothes was noted right away. It was like a rush.
Fern noticed Schwanz's smirking reaction and peered over her shoulder. "M-Master?!"
"Yes?" Frieren's tunic slipped off her shoulders, revealing the black bodice beneath. She loosened the laces.
"W-what are you doing?!"
"Joining you." The bodice came away. Frieren's small breasts were pale in the moonlight, her nipples pink and already tightening in the cool air. She stepped out of her boots, then her tights. Her body was slender, almost boyish, with narrow hips and a flat stomach. Utterly different from Fern's lush curves.
Schwanz's eyes widened as he took in the sight. "Lady Frieren. I'm honored."
"You asked me a question at the inn." Frieren went down to crawl toward him. She stopped in front of that monster cock, close enough to touch. "My answer is yes."
Her own student was next to her, in a similar submissive position, and she was flabbergasted. "Master, you can't be serious—"
"Hush, Fern. I know what I'm doing." Her luminous green eyes fixed on Schwanz. "And I know what I want."
The two women were complete opposites of one another: a white-haired elf, slender and experienced, versus a young, busty human mage lady that was a total amateur. On the spectrum of erotic woman to fuck, they were right up there. They were written about in smutty fantasy books.
However, Schwanz lived that book. What was fiction and a dream for men like Stark was reality for this arrogant noble. Him and his big cock put every woman in a spell, it appeared.
Schwanz's grin was almost feral. "And what do you want, Lady Frieren?"
"First, stop calling me 'Lady.' It's tedious." Frieren smacked Fern's hand aside. The thick web of saliva connecting ripped apart.
Fern sputtered. "But I was—we were—"
"You were about to let him cum and you'd struggle to swallow," Frieren said calmly. "Watch and learn, Fern. You might pick up a thing or two."
The thing was absurd. Ten inches of thick, veined flesh, the shaft slightly curved. As Frieren licked her lips and fully knelt between his legs, it stirred further, rising like a serpent.
"Biggest I've seen in centuries," Frieren mused, her small hand wrapping around the base. She couldn't close her fingers all the way. "Certainly bigger than Himmel's."
"Himmel?" Schwanz had been sitting up straight, propped up on his flat palms. "You mean the great hero?"
"Yes." Frieren squeezed gently, and Schwanz's breath hitched. "This is exceptional."
Fern sat beside her, her arms crossed under her breasts. The emotion in her eyes were a complicated mix of jealousy, curiosity, and reluctant fascination. "Master Frieren, I didn't know you…"
"That I had experience?" Frieren's fingers began to move, a slow, twisting stroke that worked Schwanz's foreskin back and forth over the swollen head. "I am your master, Fern. Did you think I spent all that time reading?"
"I just never thought—"
"Watch." Frieren said the word like a command. Then she leaned down and took the head of Schwanz's cock into her mouth.
This little woman with her little woman brought heaven.
Men prided themselves on control. On dominating.
Sorry, but against Frieren—whether in battle or in sex—that was impossible. No man could beat her out.
No. Man.
"F-fuck—"
The tightest, wettest hole he had ever entered. His balls genuinely shivered. His dick spat out a wad of pre-cum.
Schwanz let out the most pathetic groan of his life and his head fell back parallel to the grass. "Fuuuck…"
Frieren worked him slowly. There was no rush in her movements, no frantic hunger. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her tongue lapped at the sensitive underside of the head. Her lips sealed around the ridge, applying just enough suction to make him feel it without overwhelming him. Her hand continued its slow, twisting stroke along the shaft she couldn't fit in her mouth.
Here was the thing though: with her already naturally tight lips and divine wetness, it could not be handled. It could not be defeated. It could not be experienced without the man going, "Fuck, fuck, fuck—!"
"The key," Frieren said, pulling off with a wet pop, "is patience. Build them up. Don't rush to the finish." She looked at Fern, her expression utterly composed despite the string of saliva connecting her lower lip to the massive cockhead. "He's been fucking you all day. He's sensitive. You need to work with that."
Schwanz fucking needed this. He needed to catch his breath. He needed his cock to calm down. What the hell was that? What were her lips doing to him? What was that technique? He shuddered, cock creating a pool of pre-cum on the crown. Panting and looking down at the small Frieren.
He saw Fern uncross her arms. "I know how to—"
"You know how to be enthusiastic. That's not nothing. But technique matters." Frieren's tongue traced a slow circle around the head. Schwanz's hips twitched. "See that? He's responding. But he's not close. He's just… enjoying."
Schwanz let out a shuddering breath. "S-she's right. Gods, she's right." He smiled, because god, he loved this kind of shit. This was new and fresh and in his world, that was phenomenal.
Frieren's hand slid lower, cupping his balls. They were the size of grapefruit. She rolled them gently in her palm even though they dwarfed her palms. "These are impressive too. Fuller than Himmel's. He had nice balls, but they were human like any other." She squeezed, and Schwanz grunted. "Yours are almost excessive. How often do you empty them?"
"Not… nngh… not often enough, apparently."
"Hmm." Frieren lowered her mouth again, this time taking more of him. Three inches. Four. Her jaw stretched wide to accommodate his girth, but she didn't push further. She just held him there, her tongue working the underside, her hand stroking what she couldn't reach.
Fern watched, her violet eyes fixed on the scene. Her nipples were hard. Her thighs pressed together. Despite her jealousy, despite her irritation at being interrupted, she couldn't look away.
"Come here," Frieren said, pulling off again. "Come closer."
Fern hesitated.
"Fern."
Fern did so.
Two women. Two powerful women, both worshipping his cock. At last. Schwanz felt like god today. His cock felt like it was on cloud nine.
"Now." Frieren gestured to the cock, which was now fully erect, throbbing, the head red and leaking way too much. "You take this side. I'll take this side. Work together."
"I don't need to be taught—"
"You do. So learn." Frieren's ancient eyes met hers. "Or stay jealous and miss the opportunity."
Fern's jaw tightened. Then, slowly, she leaned in.
They flanked him like acolytes at an altar. Frieren on the left, Fern on the right. Two mouths. Two tongues. One impossibly large cock.
Frieren started, pressing her tongue flat against the base of his shaft and dragging it slowly upward, following the path of a thick vein. Fern followed her lead, her own tongue tracing a parallel path on the other side. They met at the head, their tongues brushing against each other over the sensitive ridge.
"Fuuuuhhh—" Schwanz's hips bucked. "That's… that's something…"
"The underside," Frieren murmured. "Fern, take the underside. I'll work the top."
They repositioned. Fern ducked lower, her tongue lapping at the thick vein that ran along the bottom of his shaft. Frieren worked the top, her lips wrapping around the head, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Their hands joined—Frieren's small fingers and Fern's larger ones, wrapping around the base together, stroking in tandem.
Both were rather slender. They were not huge pairs of woman hands. That made it all the better, especially for a big, fat cock.
"I-it's like you two were made for this," Schwanz groaned out.
Wet, obscene sounds filled the clearing. Schlrrp! Mlem! Glsshk! Saliva dripped freely, coating his cock, their hands, their chins. Fern found herself growing bolder, her initial jealousy transmuting into a competitive fire. She wanted to be better. She wanted to make him react the way Frieren did.
Fern sucked one of his balls into her mouth.
Schwanz groaned, which instantly snapped into a half-laugh, half-groan. "Fern! Fuck!"
"Mmm?" Fern looked up at him, her mouth stretched around his testicle, her violet eyes wide.
"That—nngh—that's good. Keep doing that."
Frieren watched with calm approval. "Good instinct. The balls are often neglected." She continued working the head, her tongue teasing the slit where more precum was beading. "Switch. I'll take the other one."
They swapped. Fern's mouth found the other ball while Frieren took the first. Their cheeks pressed together, their saliva mingling, their breath hot against his flesh. Schwanz's chest heaved. His fingers clawed at the grass. His cock, abandoned momentarily, smacked against his stomach and rebounded back into Frieren's lips.
"Mmmmm~!"
What timing.
What experience.
This was what a centuries-old elf was capable of.
Both women moved up, and their mouths found the shaft again—one on each side, tongues pressing flat against the heated flesh, licking in tandem. They moved together, synchronized, their lips occasionally meeting, their tongues brushing. The rivalry between them had transformed into something collaborative, something hungry and shared.
"He's close," Frieren observed, her voice still maddeningly calm. "Feel how he's tensing? The way his balls are drawing up?"
Fern pulled back enough to see. Sure enough, Schwanz's massive testicles were tightening, lifting toward his body. His breathing was ragged. His eyes were squeezed shut.
"What now?" Fern asked, her voice hoarse.
"Now we finish him." Frieren met her eyes. "Together. Aim him at our faces."
Kneeling side by side, their faces upturned, that fat cock rocketed and sputtered. Fern's hand wrapped around the base, Frieren's above hers, working in tandem. Their strokes were fast now, twisting on the upstroke in a way that made Schwanz's hips jerk.
"I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—"
"Yes," Frieren said simply. "Do it."
Spurt, spurt, spuuurt!
Three ropes of cum hit Fern across the cheek. Thick, white arcs that splattered from her jaw to her temple repeatedly. Fern gasped, her eyes squeezing shut on instinct. More shots crossed Frieren's forehead, dripping down into her white hair. Frieren didn't flinch.
Massive, pulsing jet continued and painted both their lips, their noses, their closed eyelids. More followed: rope after thick rope of hot, viscous seed. Fern lost count after twelve. It felt endless, an absurd volume of cum that coated their faces and even their tits.
Spurt, spurt, spuuurt!
Frieren was rightfully impressed. 'He's cumming more than Himmel ever did. Or any human I've ever met for that matter—oh!' A rope hit her eye. She managed to close it in time though.
"Fuuuuuhhh—" Schwanz's groan was almost pained. His cock kept pulsing, kept pumping. The last spurts were weaker, dribbling down their fingers, but the damage was done.
Fern and Frieren knelt there, faces upturned, absolutely drenched. Cum dripped from their chins, their noses, their eyelashes. It matted Frieren's silver-white hair. It pooled in the hollow of Fern's throat.
Slowly, Fern opened her eyes. She looked at Frieren. Frieren looked back.
Then Fern leaned over and licked a stripe of cum off Frieren's cheek.
Frieren's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch—the most surprise she'd shown all evening. Then, with the same casual deliberateness she'd shown everything else, she returned the favor. Her tongue traced Fern's jawline, collecting the thick white seed.
They turned to each other, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. Master and apprentice, their faces inches apart, wearing the same mask of another man's pleasure. His seed. His baby batter.
All of it on the two who could level towns and cities.
All because of the ten inch flagpole in front of them.
"You did well," Frieren murmured.
Fern exhaled, as though huffing, and looked up at Schwanz.
He was propped on his elbows, his chest still heaving, his cock finally—
"It's not soft," Frieren noted, head tilted. How fascinating. How impossible. Even after all that?
Schwanz himself looked at the two women kneeling before him—their faces glazed with his cum, their tongues still darting out to collect stray drops—and he grinned.
"Gods above," Schwanz said cockily. "I've fucked nobles. I've fucked servants. I've fucked women who bragged about their skills. None of them—none—did that."
Frieren tilted her head the other way. "Of course not. They haven't had centuries to practice."
Fern, still competitive despite everything, pressed closer to Schwanz's thigh. "But I'm learning faster than they did, right? I'm better?"
Schwanz laughed, the sound booming all the way to the edge of the firelight where a certain Stark sat hunched against a tree.
Bundled up in a blanket, Stark opened an eye and stared into the flames, his jaw tight, his hands clenched on his knees. He hadn't meant to watch. But then he'd seen Fern kneel. And then Frieren had joined. And then…
"Heh, maybe, maybe not, Fern," Stark heard Schwanz replying.
The red-haired male closed his eyes. The images were seared into his mind. Fern's mouth. Frieren's tongue. The absolute torrent of cum that had painted their faces. Being good in combat meant he had good eyes. He saw everything.
Nnggh.
He was hard. Again. Despite everything—the jealousy, the ache, the confusion—his body responded. His cock pressed against his trousers, demanding attention.
Sleep wouldn't come easy. He knew that. But he closed his eyes anyway and tried to think of nothing at all.
On the other end was the trio. Frieren was smiling, her small breasts peaked and goosebumped. Cum dropped onto the smooth expanse of her thighs. She shook her head like a dog, spraying the cum, still smiling.
Schwanz looked like he was about to fall in-love.
"You're mine."
Except Fern wanted his eyes to stay on her. Grinning, he looked over.
"You want more, greedy girl? After all that?"
The competitive fire that had flickered during the tandem blowjob hadn't dimmed. If anything, watching her master demonstrate centuries of expertise had stoked it into something fiercer. Something possessive.
"Yes. I want more."
Suddenly, the firelight rose and fully illuminated the beautiful curves of Fern's body: the full, heavy breasts, the narrow waist, the wide hips that flared into thicc thighs. Her purple hair was a mess, tangled and damp, clinging to her shoulders. Dried cum still streaked her face, her throat, the valley between her breasts. She made no move to wipe it away.
Boobs smushed his back and that arrogant Schwanz knew to smirk and grab her booty. Her thick thighs settled on either side of his hips, her knees pressing into the grass. Her ass—that magnificent, jiggling, fat ass—was squeezed and groped. "Good girl. I love this, ah, initiation."
Fern humphed. Her cunt hovered just above his cock. Grinning and done with her ass, Schwanz reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples. They peaked instantly under his touch.
"These never get old," he murmured.
"Shut up." But there was no venom in it. Fern's hips shifted, grinding her slick cunt against the length of his shaft. The head of his cock nudged her clit, and she sucked in a breath. "Just… just let me…"
"Take your time." Schwanz folded his arms behind his head, the picture of arrogant ease. His eyes gleamed with amusement. "I'm not going anywhere."
That smirk. That insufferable, cocky smirk. Fern wanted to fuck it off his face.
She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. It was already stiffening again, rising under her touch like a beast waking from slumber. The head was a deep, angry purple, the veins thick and corded. Her fingers couldn't close around it. They never could. She positioned him at her entrance, the fat cockhead pressing against her slick folds.
Then she dropped.
"Fuuuuuhhh—"
Fern's head snapped back, her purple hair cascading down her spine. Ten inches of thick, veined cock speared into her in one long, wet plunge. Her pussy—that tight, pink, soaking cunt—stretched wide to accommodate him. The sound it made was obscene. A wet, squelching schlorp that echoed across the camp. It even caused a ripple in the stream behind them.
Schwanz's grin twitched. "Gods, you're tight."
"You're just… nnngh… too big…"
But she didn't stop. Her hips began to move. Slow at first. Experimental. She rose until just the head remained inside her, her inner walls clinging to the ridge, then dropped again. Faster this time. The impact of her ass against his thighs made a sound like wet thunder.
PLAP—!
"YESSS—!"
PLAP—! PLAP—!
"Fuck! Fuck, your cock—!"
Fern was riding him like a woman possessed. Her massive tits bounced with every drop. Boobies shining from sweat and cum. Her hands braced on his chest, her nails digging into his pectorals. Drool gathered at the corner of her lips, a thin strand that dangled and whipped with her movements.
"Schwanz, Schwanz, Schwanz!"
Like any good couple, Fern repeated his name. Like any woman in love, she loved saying it.
Was it because of his cock? How he treated her?
She didn't know. She just knew that she was smiling. She—Fern, the stoic one that preferred to keep calm—was smiling.
Schwanz watched her, his folded arms still behind his head. He let her set the pace. Let her think she was in control. But his hips were already making tiny, subtle thrusts upward, meeting her drops.
He could take over at any time. That was clear to anyone.
"Come on, Fern," Schwanz said, his voice infuriatingly calm. "You said you wanted to show me what your body can do. This is the same pace as last time!"
"Sh-shut—nnngh—shut up!"
Fern rode harder. Her ass slammed down with enough force to make her cheeks ripple, the fat flesh jiggling obscenely. The wet sounds of their coupling grew louder, more desperate. SCHLORP—! PLAP—! SCHLORP—! Her pussy was leaking around him, clear fluid coating his shaft, his balls, her inner thighs. Every drop of her fat ass made him sink deeper, until she could feel him in her stomach, in her throat, in the back of her fucking skull.
Frieren watched, having not moved an inch. She was, quite literally, an inch away from her apprentice. The ancient green eyes tracked the bounce of Fern's breasts, the jiggle of her ass, the way her cunt stretched to take that impossible cock. The girl had talent. Raw, untrained talent. With the right instruction—
'No,' Frieren thought. 'She's already hooked.'
She could see it in the way Fern's eyes had glazed over. The way her mouth hung open, drool spilling freely. The way her hips moved with a desperation that went beyond pleasure. Fern wasn't just fucking him. She was claiming him. Trying to prove something.
Frieren almost wanted to warn her.
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
The rhythm was frantic now. Fern's thighs burned. Her core ached. The soreness from the previous night's fucking had never fully faded, and now it was being compounded with fresh, brutal pleasure. But she wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.
"D-don't you dare—nnngh—don't you dare think I'm just some—ah! AH!—some village girl you can use up and throw away!"
Schwanz's smirk softened, just slightly. "I don't."
"I'm—fuck, right there, RIGHT THERE—I'm a mage! I'm powerful! I could kill you with a—nnngh—a flick of my wrist!"
"You could." His hips thrust upward, harder now. "But you won't. You want this too much."
"Cocky bastard—!"
Fern slammed down with all her weight. Schwanz grunted, his composure finally cracking. His hands came up, gripping her hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. She was so wet, so hot, so impossibly tight despite the hours of fucking. Her inner walls gripped him like a fist, pulling him deeper, milking him.
"T-too much for you?" Fern panted, her voice cracking. "Can't handle it? H-huh?!"
"Heh." Schwanz's grip tightened. "Keep talking, greedy slut."
"I'm not a—AHHHH—!"
He thrust up hard, cutting off her words. Her eyes rolled back. A fresh gush of fluid soaked his lap. She was close—he could feel it in the way her walls fluttered, the way her thighs trembled, the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
"Cum for me," he growled. "Cum on my cock, Fern."
"FUCK—! FUCK, FUCK, FUUUU—!"
Fern shattered and her back arched so much that her tits bounced up to her chin. A scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, echoing across the stream and through the trees. Her pussy clamped down on his shaft like a vice, pulsing, milking, gushing. Clear fluid sprayed from her, soaking his stomach, his thighs, the grass beneath them.
But she didn't stop riding.
Even as her orgasm wracked her body, even as her vision went white and her thoughts dissolved into static, her hips kept moving. PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! Slower now, more erratic, but still moving. Still fucking. Still proving.
"Holy shit," Schwanz breathed.
"Not—nnngh—not done…" Fern's voice was wrecked, barely a whisper. "Not… not done yet…"
Look at her. Just fucking look at Fern.
Frieren almost wanted to warn her.
Almost.
*********
FULL PART ON PATREON