(Huu...)
The Stalker gazed at the bitch collapsed before her, ass quivering uncontrollably, and felt her cock throbbing wildly with arousal as she thought to herself.
'How long has it been since I got this excited?'
She had lived for ages, experienced every depravity imaginable.
Among those, she'd conquered countless women in every way possible.
But a bitch this obscenely enticing? She could count them on one hand.
Just looking at her, she'd sensed she could have fun for at least thirty years.
'I was wrong.'
For the first time in ages, she admitted she was mistaken.
That initial thirty-year estimate was based on an ordinary woman.
Breaking her in, resetting, breaking her again... the time it took to mold her to her tastes.
By then, even the most resilient woman grew tiresome from raw physical pleasure alone.
Unless shared with others, perhaps.
But this bitch was different.
Even in panic, captured and toyed with, she schemed.
Even as she was violated, she resisted to the bitter end.
When she realized the thimble was going in and cried out in madness while wriggling her ass to flee, the Stalker thought her cock might explode.
When she realized escape was futile, halted, and trembled in defeat—pride be damned—the Stalker nearly considered just blackmailing or tricking her into submission.
When this bitch screamed in torment from torments beyond imagination, the Stalker wondered if some masochistic kink had awakened in her.
"Pwease... buy meee..."
(Ah...)
She's insane.
Filling her ass with cum, fingering it deep—and her first words in that delirious haze were that?
(Huu... ha...)
The breathing technique that had preserved her calm through endless years shattered.
She could set her own rules in her domain, crafting the most optimized ones.
After refining her domain's rules in what was called 'rule-carving,' she'd never felt such emotions there again.
She could always get whatever she desired.
(...I can't hold back)
But not now.
A surge of precum—or was it cum?—leaked out uncontrollably.
The emotion surging through her was 'impatience.'
In her endless years, the only thing that had grown was her patience.
Yet this bitch instilled impatience in a Stalker who would scoff at even the most seductive beauties of legendary allure.
She wanted to thrust in right now.
Seal those begging lips with a kiss, watch her writhe in ecstasy.
Learn more about her.
But contrary to her frenzied inner lust,
True to her ancient experience, she barely showed it outwardly.
Her gaze grew a touch calmer,
Her body, still quivering pleasantly in afterglow, was brought under control.
"Mmngh..."
-Grab
'What am I doing right now?'
As the bitch shifted for a more comfortable position, the Stalker unwittingly seized her.
For the first time in decades, she lost control of her own movements.
(Ah...)
With the gravitas of her long years, the Stalker quickly realized her state and let out a deep sigh.
Then, once more, she gripped her cock
And did what her body and mind craved.
-Spurt spurt
She pressed her glans against the bitch's asshole again and unleashed.
This time, without pause, endlessly.
(...)
From experience, she knew it would take the bitch about thirty minutes to regain her senses.
And despite appearances, she hadn't fully passed out—so keep cumming like this, and she might wake.
This bitch was clever.
Upon opening her eyes, she'd realize this act was no different from full penetration, save the thrust.
And she'd demand answers.
Ask what separated this from the forbidden direct insertion in their deal.
(Ngh...)
But even that thrill was pleasure.
Wake up? Who cares! This feels too damn good!
She'd facesat before, but never one this thrilling, electric.
"Mmngh..."
(...!)
As the bitch stirred, the Stalker flinched in surprise.
Thrill from potential crisis was one thing; actual crisis hitting was another.
-Smooch
(Crazy...!!!)
She couldn't recall the last time she'd cursed in awe.
The bitch's action was beyond even the Stalker's imagination.
This bitch
Had engulfed half the glans in her ass
By wiggling her hips,
Then swayed them as if to say cum here,
Her whole body shuddering, broadcasting her own ecstasy.
(Ngh... guh!)
-Spuuuurt!
She came like a virgin's first load.
Not even proper insertion.
Not even fully hilted.
Just barely half-in, shallow enough to slip out anytime.
Yet the Stalker came from that mere tease like a desperate rookie.
"Uh... uuh!"
The bitch, who had started by clenching pleasurably, now fled in shock like a child burned by something hot.
But the Stalker was satisfied.
A new experience beyond her ancient imagination,
And she'd seen the bitch's belly swell slightly with her cum.
"My head hurts..."
Overwhelmed by too much pleasure at once, a throbbing headache hit alongside new sensations.
Cold floor.
Something covering her eyes.
A long, hot rod draped over her stomach like it was pinning escaping chill.
...Long, hot rod?
"This... no way...?"
Fondle fondle.
Twitch twitch.
...
"Eek!"
Realizing it was a cock, I jolted upright in horror.
I'd been a man before; any guy would freak at a dick on them.
"...Ah."
But cool hands over my eyes snapped me back.
I was a woman now.
Overloaded by pleasure, I'd blacked out. Before me was the unidentified futanari monstrosity, the Stalker.
"Why cover my eyes?"
If she'd left it, it would've been over.
I'd opened my eyes in shock,
And what covered them? My swimsuit top, apparently.
It had slipped off, leaving me staring at the Stalker's flushed face, cock pressed against me. Game over.
(The deal isn't done yet.)
"Yeah. Figured."
The Stalker's act was clearly kind,
But the deal mention soured my mood, and venom slipped out unbidden.
A deal was a deal. Gratitude was gratitude. Unlike my earlier epiphany... I just felt pissed.
"Wait... so right now, I'm...?"
(Stark naked, not a stitch on.)
-Twitch twitch
As if confirming my fear, the Stalker twitched her still-hard cock in reply.
(You used it well?)
"Y-You pervert!"
Her words burned my face crimson.
In the fastest scramble of my life, I spun around and stood.
I knew what she meant.
Teasing, sure—but mortifying all the same.
I'd dished it out, never dreamed I'd be on the receiving end...!
Flustered, I yanked on my swimsuit.
Top first (the oddly helpful Stalker assisted),
Then bottoms—
-Sticky
"Ah..."
Around my pussy—precisely near my clit, the urethra—dried, sticky cum lingered.
Frozen by the feel, memories flooded back.
-Kyaaaaah!
-Pwease buy meee...
"..."
Screaming like a girl,
Ass thrust back, begging—
"Th-That..."
(You used it well?)
"Ugh... augh! Pervert!"
Her whisper in my ear made me writhe in terror.
Chills, fear of seeing her face so I squeezed my eyes shut,
And deeper still, soul-crushing shame.
What is this what is this what is this
I'd always wondered watching begging in porn.
Why? Why say that? Not embarrassing? Won't change a thing?
Now I got it.
It's not shallow thinking—it's impossible.
Not shameless— no room to feel it.
Begging that falls flat, excites men more? Because in that state, you can't even imagine how you look.
"Uwaa... uwaaaaa!"
I felt her gaze devouring my shame like it was hilarious, but I could only scream.
Unlike kicking off covers to erase black history,
My entire male life laughed at me now.
(The deal. Gotta honor it?)
Her words and cold hand on my shoulder snapped me out.
Urging me on, and I'd blanked on what—stiffened,
Then remembered.
"R-Right... masturbation... was it...?"
(Spot on. So smart.)
Recalling it, I gawked helplessly, begging her to deny—but
She petted me like rewarding a retriever with a frisbee.
"If... we're doing it now... m-maybe instead..."
(Shh. Order matters?)
I'd meant beg for the creampies first,
But the deal stipulated masturbation before creampies.
"Ugh... uuu."
Pre-ass play, I'd have closed my eyes and done it.
Male curiosity would've won eventually,
Futanari monstrosity aside—I'd rationalize solitude or jerk to the sight.
But not now.
Ass fingered, squirted, cum-blasted, begged—boldly ignoring her? No confidence.
Bang!
-Flinch!
The Stalker had no patience,
Approached something wall-mounted, hopped lightly, ripped it free, slammed it down.
"Wh-What... is that?"
(Outdoor AC unit.)
I pictured it.
Leaping up,
Ripping the one on the second floor—
'That possible?'
AC units are anchor-bolted solid.
Muscular man jumping? Properly installed, won't budge.
Not plucking fruit...!
(Ah, lil dented.)
Like regretting a rusty move, eyeing the dent—I realized again.
This wasn't human. That strength? Mere glimpse.
(Sitting on floor hurts, right? So I prepped.)
She wiped the top clean,
Casually scooped me princess-style onto it, frozen as I was.
Like pulling a chair for a guest.
Utterly natural, expected.
(Now it'll be perfectly visible.)