The Fuck Festival had reached its fifth day, and Eldoria no longer resembled a city—it had become a vast, breathing organism of flesh, rhythm, and release. Dawn broke over streets that glistened with the residue of four days of unrelenting pleasure: spilled oil, drying cum, scattered petals, and the faint shimmer of enchanted lubricants that still clung to stone and silk. Floating lanterns hung lower now, their golden light dimmed by the haze of sex that refused to lift. The music had deepened into something primal—drums rolling like slow, deliberate thrusts, flutes drawn out in long, quivering sighs that mimicked a woman riding the edge of orgasm, strings plucked in wet, rhythmic patterns that made every pussy in the crowd clench in time.
Ethan Sinclair woke in the central pavilion to the soft press of bodies. Vaeloria lay half on top of him, obsidian skin warm and slick, one thick thigh hooked over his hip, violet eyes already open and watching him with that familiar mix of pride and hunger. Liraya curled against his other side, crimson hair tangled across his chest, full breasts pressed to his ribs, nipples brushing his skin with every slow breath. Valyndra sat nearby, golden and towering, winds idly swirling around her rounded belly as she traced lazy circles over her own swollen pussy with one long finger. Lilitha knelt at the edge of the furs, olive curves glowing in the morning light, slowly licking yesterday's cum from her fingers with small, contented moans. Mira stood at the entrance like a sentinel, dark skin gleaming, spear in hand but violet eyes soft and heavy-lidded. Solara and Thalira lounged on cushions—Solara's massive breasts rising with each breath, thick hairy pussy still swollen and glistening; Thalira's tail lazily coiling, scales shimmering, smooth pussy parted slightly as she stretched.
Ethan shifted, cock stirring against Vaeloria's thigh.
"Day five," he said, voice rough from sleep and the night before. "Union."
Vaeloria's lips curved, hand sliding down to wrap around his thickening shaft. "Today they join together. Pairs, trios, circles—women fucking women until they can't tell where one body ends and another begins. The strongest unions… the ones who make the crowd cum just watching… get to claim you in the center."
Liraya stirred, stretching so her breasts lifted, nipples hardening in the cool air. "I've enchanted the oils again. One drop on the skin and every touch feels like a tongue. They'll be dripping before the first kiss."
Valyndra's winds brushed across his cock like a thousand teasing caresses. "I've raised the union stage higher than yesterday. Floating platforms linked by silk bridges—women will move between them, bodies tangled, pussies grinding, mouths never leaving skin. The winning circle descends to you—still locked together, still cumming, and you breed them all at once."
Lilitha leaned forward, full breasts swaying, tongue darting out to lick the bead of pre-cum from his tip. "I'll judge the unions. The ones who make the most women cum in chain reaction—who create a wave of orgasms across the crowd… they breed with you while the rest watch and touch themselves."
Mira stepped closer, spear resting against her shoulder. "I'll keep order. No one breaks the circles until the winners are chosen."
Solara smiled lazily, thick bush shifting as she parted her thighs. "And when the winning circle is done, we all join. No one leaves unsatisfied."
Thalira's tail uncoiled, sliding up Ethan's leg to brush his balls. "I'll sing for them. A melody of union—notes that weave their pleasure together. The circle that holds through my song… they deserve every drop."
Ethan stood, cock swinging heavily, now fully hard and glistening. "Then let's begin."
The Carnival of Union filled the central arena—a constellation of floating platforms raised by Valyndra's winds, connected by swaying silk bridges that allowed women to move between them without breaking contact. Each platform was wide and cushioned, ringed with low silk barriers so the crowd below could see every slide of skin against skin, every tongue plunging into a dripping pussy, every clit grinding against another. Enchanted oil pools shimmered at the edges—scented with rose, myrrh, and something deeper—where losers and spectators bathed and touched themselves, fingers lazily circling clits or plunging into slick holes while they watched.
Thousands of women had entered—nude, oiled, bodies painted with union runes that glowed softly when skin touched skin. They formed circles on the platforms—pairs, trios, larger chains—already kissing, grinding, licking, fingers sliding into pussies, tongues circling clits. The crowd filled the stands and ground—thousands naked, fingers moving in slow rhythm, pussies grinding against thighs, breasts heaving with every deep drumbeat.
Ethan took his throne on the highest platform, cock hard and glistening with oil, his seven companions arrayed around him like a crown of living desire.
Lilitha stood at the edge, voice carrying over the music. "Begin."
Thalira's song rose—slow, weaving, notes that felt like fingers tracing spines. The women on the platforms moved together—kissing deeply, tongues dancing; breasts pressed together, nipples dragging; pussies sliding wetly against pussies; fingers plunging in and out in perfect rhythm. The oil made every touch electric—skin sliding, clits rubbing, moans blending into a single wave of sound.
A cat woman and elf archer formed a pair—smooth pussy grinding against smooth pussy, tails and silver hair tangling. They kissed deeply, tongues swirling, hips rocking in time with the drums. The elf moaned into the cat woman's mouth—high and melodic—then shuddered, orgasm crashing through her, pussy squirting against the cat woman's clit. The cat woman yowled—cumming seconds later, juices mixing, bodies trembling on the platform.
A nudist matriarch joined a goblin thief and merfolk healer—massive breasts smothering the goblin's face, thick bush grinding against the merfolk's scales, goblin tongue lapping at the matriarch's clit through her curls, merfolk tail coiling around both. Fingers plunged, tongues licked, moans rose. The goblin broke first—tight green pussy spasming, squirting across the matriarch's thigh. The merfolk followed—song turning to a broken cry as her pussy pulsed. The matriarch came last—deep, guttural moan, cum dripping through her bush.
Larger circles formed—five, six, ten women—bodies tangled in daisy chains, tongues in pussies, fingers in asses, breasts pressed to backs, clits grinding against thighs. Orgasms spread like fire— one woman cumming, her spasms triggering the next, moans rolling across the platforms in waves.
The crowd mirrored them—women pairing off in the stands, scissoring, fingering, licking, cumming in chain reactions that made the entire square shudder.
By late afternoon the field narrowed to three circles—each one a perfect knot of pleasure.
The first: five cat women—smooth pussies grinding in a star pattern, tails lashing, tongues lapping at clits, fingers plunging deep. They moved in perfect sync—hips rolling, breasts bouncing, moans rising in harmony. One yowled—orgasm crashing through her, pussy squirting across the circle. The others followed—chain reaction of yowls and spasms, cum raining down.
The second: a giantess with four elves—massive pussy engulfing one elf's face, thick thighs clamping another, elves' tongues lapping at her clit and nipples, fingers plunging into her folds. The giantess roared—body shaking the platform, cum flooding in thick streams. The elves came seconds later—high, melodic cries, smooth pussies pulsing.
The third: ten women of mixed tribes—nudist matriarch at the center, massive breasts smothered by goblin and cat women, thick bush ground against by merfolk and elf, fingers and tongues everywhere. They moved as one—hips rocking, moans blending, orgasms spreading outward like ripples. The matriarch came first—deep, guttural moan, cum dripping through her bush. The circle shuddered—cums rolling through them, bodies convulsing, juices mixing.
The third circle endured longest—still locked together, still cumming in waves but not breaking formation.
Lilitha's voice rang out. "Winners!"
The crowd erupted.
Valyndra lowered the platform slowly—winds gentle, the ten women floating down, still tangled, still grinding, still moaning.
They knelt around Ethan—bodies slick, pussies dripping, eyes locked on his cock.
The nudist matriarch spoke for them. "Breed us… fill every womb in this circle… make us one with your seed."
Ethan pulled the matriarch close—her thick bush grinding his cock. "You endured together. Now take me together."
He lay back. The circle moved—matriarch straddling his face, thick bush smothering him, pussy dripping onto his tongue; two cat women riding his hands, smooth pussies clenching around fingers; a goblin and elf grinding on his thighs, clits rubbing his skin; others kissing his chest, licking his nipples, hands stroking his cock.
He thrust upward—cock sliding into the matriarch's hairy pussy as she lowered. "So wet… cum for me… take my seed."
She rocked—massive breasts bouncing. "Breed me… fill my hairy cunt… make me cum!"
The circle moved—women grinding, kissing, licking, fingers plunging. Moans rose in harmony.
He pounded upward—cock hitting deep. "Cum for me… all of you… let me breed the circle."
They came as one—bodies trembling, pussies pulsing, juices squirting, moans blending into a single wave. He erupted—seed flooding the matriarch's womb, overflowing, dripping down to coat the others.
The crowd cheered as the circle collapsed around him—panting, cum leaking, bodies still tangled.
The Carnival of Union ended with a final orgy—losers and spectators piling onto the platforms, bodies tangled, Ethan moving through them like a storm of light.
Vaeloria rode him in the center—pussy clenching. "Fuck me… breed your warrior… make me cum under the stars."
He thrust up. "Cum for me… take my seed… let me fill you."
She came roaring—pussy pulsing, milking him dry.
The festival continued—five more days of pleasure ahead.