Fera-Onahole Lucao [Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid]

Summary: Lucoa's good-natured airheadedness is taken advantage of by an unwashed, obese male degenerate in a way that she neither cares about nor understands. She makes a gross mess out of herself sucking filth off of his cock, squirts several times in the process, and ultimately takes a load of comically vile semen directly into her womb.

Credit: Tastatura

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Human social convention never quite 'clicked' with Lucoa. While wise enough to adhere to a given convention when shown an example of it, recognizing (and reacting to) these conventions on her own usually proved beyond her capacity as a "dragon playing human".

Fairly stated, those who lived alongside her enabled her to a point. Due to the shape of the body she chose for herself (to say nothing of the sweet-natured airiness of her disposition), appearing in public with her required those around her to assume responsibility for pointing out things that did (or did not) qualify as acceptable human behavior so as to keep her from making a spectacle out of herself. Otherwise liable to draw gazes of lust and incredulity with a single step, most of these individuals—in particular the boy whose residence she called home—viewed coddling her as a small price to pay for a semblance of normalcy.

In spite of all of these things, Lucoa did not perceive her ignorance as something worth concerning herself over. Satisfied with a life of simplicity provided she was allowed to share it with her host, she accepted the corrections that were pointed out to her and did her utmost to avoid violating convention in the same way twice.

Nevertheless, she did not allow her ignorance to restrict her. Want to strike out on her own for small errands or to pay short visits to the residences of her fellow dragons, neither the eyes that she attracted nor her 'failure' with certain human interactions managed to discourage her from maintaining the patterns she had set.

To her, these outings were no less valuable than the formal instruction that she received from her friends. By stepping out into the world and experiencing it for herself, she believed that some of her shortcomings could be corrected with time.

This belief did not factor in the influence that her nature might have on her capacity to learn; in the first place, the amount of thought she put behind it was nowhere near significant enough to trigger introspection. Still, she committed herself to it with the same firm focus that she applied to enjoying life alongside her tiny, purple-haired housemate.

Obscured by the apparent harmlessness of her decision was a time bomb whose explosion promised a brand of 'trouble' that Lucoa was guaranteed to handle improperly. By flaunting herself on the streets of Japan as a monstrously-buxom young woman with a penchant for airy behavior and tight-clothing, Lucoa guaranteed an eventual confrontation between herself and a daunting 'test' for her knowledge of convention—

A greasy, likely-unwashed test that she was more likely to fail than pass.

-

A LESS-THAN-ACCEPTABLE HOTEL ROOM—EARLY AFTERNOON

Squatted on the tips of her toes with a familiar expression of calm, closed-eyed contentment on her face, Lucoa trained her gaze on the room space ahead of her in anticipation of her signal to act.

Exactly what she was waiting for was beyond her. Nearly a half-hour prior, a pot-bellied and decidedly-unkempt man who had taken notice of her procession through Shouta's neighborhood had invited her to become a "smiling cockfilth sponge" for him. Believing this to be something similar to a request for help with some kind of task, she accepted and accompanied him into an establishment known as a Love Hotel.

Upon entering what seemed to be a humid and brightly-colored apartment, the same man requested that she peel herself out of her shorts and descend into a squat in preparation for her work. What sort of work she'd be doing and why it required her to squat down whilst half-naked stuck out to her as questions, but per usual, her disposition deemed the answers to these questions to be unimportant.

As if applauding her ignorance, the man ahead of her answered these questions less than a minute into her squat. After peeling his tan brown flesh from out of the sweat-stained (and occasionally discolored) clothing that he had donned for his trundle through the neighborhood, he turned his front back towards Lucoa and arranged the 'purpose' for her descent less than an inch away from her face.

Ordinarily, a sneering suggestion for Lucoa to "get cleaning" would have followed from him. Presently, though, the smiling ignorance that she had displayed thus far required that he take a more educational approach to his satiation.

In pursuit of this, he parted the sun-dried bloat of his lips in preparation to speak straight after his turn.

Ultimately, though, Lucoa ended up speaking out well before he could.

"Ara, ma ♥. You're quite endowed, aren't you?" Lucoa declared, calmly. "It's smellier and larger than Shouta-kun's, but since you are as well, I suppose that makes sense."

"Is this what you meant when you mentioned cleaning, Oji-san?"

Happily surprised by Lucoa's deduction, a rumbling chortle escaped the bloated man ahead of his response.

"G'heh heh, and here I thought the size of those tits had left you completely fucking retarded." he started, sneering. "You guessed it: see all of that reeking gunk that's caked around the tip? I'm gonna need you to slurp that all off into your mouth. As a matter of fact, you might as well give that whole area a proper suck shining."

"Once you're done, keep all of the gunk you collect in your mouth right on top of your tongue and open your mouth to show me—sounds easy, right?"

Mood unaffected by the demands that were spewed down at her—or for that matter, the rancid aroma that she drew into her sinuses with each breath—Lucoa acknowledged what was required of her with a slight nod.

Behind it, what seemed to be a small epiphany drew her lips apart for a second time.

"Okay! That sounds easy!" she replied, smiling. "Oh, before I start, though—do younger boys enjoy treatment like this too? I've been wanting to get closer to Shouta-kun somehow, but he's so shy when it comes to his body."

"I probably should just ask him myself, but he's never completely honest with me about this stuff, either…" she added, pouting.

"They sure do! Having an empty-headed onahole like you as a dick-cleaner would be a dream come true—assuming we're talkin' about a normal kid here." the man replied, tone both uncertain and somehow absent. "You'll probably suck at it and piss him off if you don't get some practice in, though, so enough talk for now. Hurry up and start throating my cock clean!"

Provided a response along the lines of what she wished to hear, Lucoa snapped to work almost immediately. Producing and sustaining an endearing "Haiiiiiiii ♥" in response to the bloated man's request, she subsequently parted her lips and dumped her skull inward to pop the beginnings of his glans between their plush and into her mouth.

In this was proof of her status as an otherworldly dragon—even if her suitor failed to recognize it. Nearly a minute prior, the bloated man's turn towards her had set an unwashed, 13-inch-long loaf of nastily vascular cockflesh directly into her line of sight. Fatter than her wrist was wide at its root and incrementally thicker at the inches leading up to its glans, the dingy-brown organ represented a shade of masculinity that the majority of human women could not help but be aroused by. Worse still, a dense, cheese-colored grime bulbous in patches and smoothly-smeared in others could be seen dominating the worn flesh underneath, and all about the lower half of his glans.

By itself, the door-knob-sized helmet's engorged puffiness was alluring enough to hold Lucoa's gaze cross-eyed for several seconds. A semi-solid caking of its basal inches and the beginnings of the trunk below it with rancid, jaundiced yellow-white smegma infused with countless arced wires of pubic hair, and hot enough to clog the air around it with a barely-visible miasma of stink pushed the envelope of its appeal even further:

Whether via disgust or curiosity, a sufficiently aroused woman wouldn't be able to resist it.

Ahead of it, the fact that Lucoa did not understand why it appealed to her counted for nothing. Within seconds of staring at the thumb-fat vein that zig-zagged up along its face (alongside the equally meaty branches that split away from it), the arousal that she enjoyed pushed a splutter of cuntsyrup out from her lower lips and threaded a modest blush into the fringes of her cheeks.

In spite of these things, Lucoa managed to plug the entirety of her mouth full of the bloated man's cocktip without a hint of reservation. Stable in spite of the anticipatory orgasm that continued to throb within her cunt, she pushed her lips to a perverse spread around its bloat, and afterwards set about 'cleaning' the semen-flavored spire just as she had been asked to.

In a word, her efficiency with this task was obscene. Despite having no concept of the ins and outs of cocksucking or how best to grind the semi-solid grime layered to the bloated man's cock into her mouth, the ardent pulsing of her uterus and her latent capacity for all things sexual biased her towards the same acts that a much more seasoned cocksucker would've produced.

Per the demands of her innards, the first plunge of her lips down along the bloated man's cock did not end until the freshly cock-greased pillows arrived at the midsection of his cock. Unaffected by the curved descent of greasy cockflesh down her throat and the grind of squirming blood vessels against her gag-reflex, the only noise produced by her descent was a wet *GLUCK♥~* pushed from her skull as she arrived at her stopping point.

Here, Lucoa's instincts held her still for a second or so. In this time, she contracted the beginnings of her G.I tract into a taut compression against the bloated man's length, and sharpened her breathing to drag concentrated snorts of eye-watering musk into her sinuses.

Subsequently, she flicked her skull backwards and dragged her lips straight back up to his glans. Leaving a thin glaze of salivation and mucus atop every inch that she peeled out of herself, her lips' replacement at the midsection of his glans created a visual 'promise' for the future:

One way or another, every disgusting mess smeared to the bloated man's cock would be replaced by her spittle.

Unaware of the fact that her body had decided on such a thing, Lucoa continued with her cock-scrubbing without a care in the world. After pausing briefly to allow a steady drainage of mucus from her right nostril to trickle down over her upper lip, she pushed her tongue out of her mouth and swirled its face from the underside of her suitor's smegma-caked cocktip up through a clockwise swirl around the entirety of its circumference.

In the wake of her first came several others whose vigor made her tastebuds seem broken. Whilst rivulets of mucus wrought from her sinuses' infection with cockmusk dribbled from her upper lip down to contact with the bloated male's cock, feverish rotations of her tongue carried the substance around the same circular path traveled by her tongue. Between these outflows and the syruped salivation spewed by her saliva ducts on a second-to-second basis, every rotation of her tongue became akin to the grind of a studded, fluid-soaked fleshmop across the grime of the bloated male's length.

A few seconds of spirited rotation were sufficient for melting, and thereafter smearing a portion of the bloated male's smegma onto the face of her tongue. Alarmed by the squirming sourness of the substance and the prickliness of the pubes threaded into it, continued subjection to the sensations led Lucoa into a brief intensification of her swirling prior to abandoning it entirely.

At this, she succumbed. Beset by a fit of orgasmic convulsion, her focus descended into a modest attempt at 'coping' whilst spurts of cuntsyrup burst from the face of womanhood.

"M-My...c-cockflith certainly is strange! The more I smear onto my tongue, the worse this body seems to squirm." she thought to herself. "Maybe that's a good thing, t-though? If it feels t-this nice with someone else, I'll be able to enjoy it even when I try it Shouta-kun ♥."

"I-I should hurry up and slurp it off properly so I can go and find out…"

Mind set, Lucoa attempted to refocus herself. With the odd black wire of pubic hair pasted to the corner of her lips, she transitioned from the swirling of her tongue straight into a dedicated 'scrubbing' of the bloated male's cock with her throat. Producing a second (and visibly hungrier) plunge of her skull, she abruptly depressed just under half of her suitor's erection into the pulsing embrace of her esophagus in the blink of an eye.

This time assisted by the spittle and mucus she had mushed into his glans and the smegma-diluted mire welled within her esophagus, the increased speed of her plunge was accompanied by an increase in effectiveness. In return for the displacement of a guttural *GLOOOOORSH~* noise out of her esophagus, the tightened confines of her facecunt successfully peeled a layer of smegma off of his glans. Dragged out across several inches of puffy, mucus-smeared esophagus flesh, the end to her half-hilt left her suitor's cocktip (and several inches below it) slightly cleaner than they had been before.

Whereas the body of another woman may've regarded this as a significant accomplishment, Lucoa's perceived it as little more than a 'decent start'. So as to compliment it, the twitching of her uterus put her back to work as soon as her plunge was complete. Ignoring the deluges of spittle, throatslop, and mucus that her innards had produced in response to the flavors of denatured smegma and urine, she turned the end of her plunge into a springboard for a vehement, tip-to-midsection gutting of her throat.

Expectedly, her doing so was not without consequence. From the second ascent of her lips onward, the foulness of the bloated man's cock and the abandon that she had displayed in her handling of it caught up with her. In response to an orgasmic jostling of her gag reflex, her lips' return to the midsection of his glans was commemorated by a brief, deluge-like surge of clear vomit out against it. Released from both her lips and nostrils and significant enough to lid Lucoa's eyes throughout its outflow, the stimulation that she endured fished a garbled "GLLURLSH!" from her throat as puke streaked out across the entirety of the bloated male's member.

Now a creature of perverted instinct, Lucoa took this happening as a sign that she was doing well. Galvanized, she turned the end to her regurgitation into the beginning of another plunge of her lips and did not look back. Somehow compelled to exacerbate the grotesque *GLRSH* and *BLURPP* sounds created as slop was displaced into greasy splutters from the edges of her lips, she replanted her suitor's spire into her esophagus with visible indifference towards her wellbeing. Moving as quickly as the convulsion of her esophagus would allow, she then transitioned into a repeated bounce of her gullet up and down from the midsection of her suitor's cock right up to the base of his glans.

The metronome that she established was as disgusting as it was effective. Through her vehemence and the pleasured writhing of the bloated male's cock, Lucoa's gag reflex forced her into regular fits of puking. Each smaller than the first, yet potent in maintaining the disgusting standard of lubrication set for her efforts, the 'feel' of her throating soon became dominated by nauseating gagging noises and lurid visuals associated with the elongation and compression of slop strands.

None of this messiness was purposeless. By virtue of the sloppiness of Lucoa's throating and her refusal to loosen the squirming interior of her esophagus, the pumping of her skull at last became a proper scrubbing of the bloated male's length. Whether driving her lips downward or wrenching them upward, the conditions within her throatcunt facilitated the removal of significant chunks of smegma from his glans. Melted down into a borderline drinkable paste and subsequently glazed across her esophagus, two minutes of dedicated throating from Lucoa dragged the vast majority of substance off of his length once and for all.

Birthed from the actual effectiveness of her throating was a perception of effectiveness for her suitor. Thus far a stable (albeit sweaty and grunt-consumed) participant in the scrubbing of his erection, the removal of filth from his length rendered all of the sensations offered to his cock that much stronger. Bit by bit, the surges of warm vomit against his length and the clamping vice-grip of bulbous esophagus flesh around his member became intense enough for him to conclude that Lucoa was making progress.

Eventually, these sensations and the sights and sounds attached to them demanded that he determine exactly how much progress she had made—

Even if doing so was to his detriment.

"Uwooohh, you didn't tell me that your mouthpussy was this disgusting, Lucoa-chan! If I had known that all you were going to be squirting everywhere as you cleaned, I'd have paid for a shittier hotel!" he grunted, happily. "It's probably for the best, though. Throating filth off of my cock like a nasty pig was probably the only way you were gonna get any of it off, so I don't blame ya, g'heheh!"

"Anyhow, all of this is starting to feel way too good! I don't want to end up blowing everything into your stomach, so how about we have a look at how much progress you've made?" he suggested. "I won't hold it against ya if you've ended up with more filth in your stomach than in your mouth, so no need to be shy! Just don't forget to hold it all in place so that I c'n see, got it?"

In the same way that the exacerbation of Lucoa's throating was pivotal in working a response from her suitor, the sound of the bloated man's voice was instrumental in drawing Lucoa back to reality. Consumed by her efforts throughout their intensification, his request induced a sudden snap of her eyes from out of their lidded stare up at the sweat-greased hair matted to his gut and set her focus back onto what she was doing.

Not a moment later, an embarrassed exhalation echoed out within her head.

"Aa, dame. I must've gotten carried away with all of this." she thought to herself. "S-Scrubbing filth off of a cock is quite the experience!"

"My face is a mess, and I have so much gross stuff smeared to my boobs. I've got a lot of that chunky stuff that was pasted to his cock caked inside me, too!"

"It feels very...nasty. Oji-san sounds happy, though, so that must mean that I'm doing it right. That's what's most important, I want to be good enough to impress Shouta-kun after a—"

"Uuuuuuu…"

"I guess my head is still really fuzzy from all of that. W-What did he ask me about again?"

"Oh, the stuff inside my mouth. It's going to be really gross, but I'm sure this must be part of the process…"

"Here you go, Oji-san—have a look at all of the smegma I fucked off of you with my throat ♥."

Once finished with her mental reorientation, Lucoa acted with the same smooth clarity that had defined her actions thus far. Per the bloated male's request, she ceased her throating with a final pump, then reeled her pube-flecked lips from the middle of his cock through to a sodden *PLORP~* off of the nose of his length.

Funnily (but not surprisingly), the removal of his cock from between her lips changed little with regards to the state of her mouth. No longer spread by cock, both of her cheeks remained plumped by what could only be a semi-solid mush of throatslop and smegma—the very same substances that she had been asked to put on display.

Visibly disoriented by the wriggling substance's domination of her mouth and tongue, Lucoa invested several seconds into blending and chewing the concoction of substances in hopes of somehow collecting it all in one place. In doing so, heavy *SLRSH* noises comparable to an attempt at swishing grime around one's teeth as a mouthwash were pushed out from her cheeks on a regular basis.

Eventually, though, she did as she was told. Peeling her lips apart, Lucoa presented a lumpy reservoir of discolored sludge to the open-air right where the bloated male could see it. No less off-white for the fact that it had been mixed with another substance and voluminous to the extent that neither her tongue nor the teeth of her lower jaw could be seen within it, the sight of the steaming pool constituted a significant effort from Lucoa all by itself.

As it happened, though, the bloated male did not actually need to see it to convince himself of this. Once the final rivulet of slop connecting his cock to Lucoa's lips was severed, the barren, mucus-greased exterior of his glans told a much more detailed story of her efforts.

A degenerate by nature, the 'contents' of this story (i.e., the fact that Lucoa had messily sucked filth of his cock only to shamelessly present a portion of her work after the fact) stoked the flames of his arousal further still. In an instant, his reason for asking Lucoa to open her mouth slipped his mind, and his dominant hand was magnetized into a firm envelopment of his glans.

Palm set, the strength of his grasp filled the bloated male with a desire for more. Desperate to enjoy a semblance of the stimulation provided by Lucoa's throat, he began stroking his palm back and forth between its folded sandwiching of his glans and a slovenly breakpoint several inches below it. Grasp taut and pace haphazard, each stroke he applied turned the satisfaction that he derived from Lucoa's appearance into instigation for his release, and soon enough, a form of motivation for him to begin seeking out further pleasure for himself...

At Lucoa's expense, of course.

"Guohhh, yarashiii. You really look like a proper meattoilet with your mouth open like that…" he groaned, voice set atop a backdrop of heavy *SCHLK* noises. "Was hoping for more, but it looks like I'm gonna have to end up using you that way, too. Go ahead and swallow all of that mess n'stand up for a bit so I can blow my load."

"Oh—this is part of that whole dick-cleaning thing, too. If you're not ready to take every drop of a guy's cockjuice inside one of your holes when he asks, the whole thing's—guhhhh—j-jus' going to end up ruined, y'know?"

Precisely what stood to be 'ruined' if she did not take cockjuice into her body was not immediately obvious to Lucoa. All the same, her commitment to the needs of the organ at her core and her desire to return to Shouta with a brand new skill to flaunt was enough to guarantee her compliance. Thoughts focused solely on what was required of her, she squeezed her lips together and swallowed a significant fraction of her mouth's smegma payload down into her esophagus.

And then, she paid for it.

"Mnnngiiiiii♥♥♥!!!"

In recognition of the descent of rancid sperm and pubes into her stomach in a concentrated wad of sludge, Lucoa's womb exerted itself on proceedings for a second time. All at once, it began writhing and quivering within her midsection with an aggression that Lucoa rarely (if ever) endured. Potent enough to draw her vaginal canal into a similar state of contraction, the organs' combined debilitation swiftly 'bottomed-out' into another display of submission for her frame:

Whilst Lucoa squealed, a heavily pressurized eruption of cuntsyrup from her lower lips doused the floor space ahead of her crotch with a sustained eruption of feminine lubrication.

*SPLORRRRTTTTTT!*

Hissed, and yet still muddy enough to be recognized as a discharge of lubrication (as opposed to urine), the noise matched the throaty groan that Lucoa produced in both volume and quality. Shortly, if one wished to split their attentions between them for the purposes of stimulation, doing so was 'simplified' down to turning one's line of sight back and forth between the perverse grimace at Lucoa's face and the arcing splatters of lubrication from her crotch.

Needless to say, the bloated male did precisely this. Provided with two ideal fuel sources whilst in the midst of choking congested wads of precum out of the nose of his cock, making the most of both of them became a significant priority for his porcine frame.

Together, the perversion that the sights offered promised to fatten the load of semen wadded at his crotch until it finally exploded out of him. So long as he maintained just enough sanity to track this build-up and respond to it accordingly, gorging himself on pleasure and choking his member into a state of drooling rawness could be validated as 'necessary' aspects of his release.

By adopting this mindset, the bloated male created a brief period of 'silence' for the confines of the hotel room. For several seconds straight, the only sounds to be heard within it were Lucoa's breathy panting, and the increasingly sludgy *SCHLK-SCHLK-SCHLK* produced by his spirited masturbation.

This was not to say that the two of them did not have words for one another, however. Choked—or in Lucoa's case, debilitated—into silence, their inner voices were put to work uttering the things that they could not state with their mouths.

Both similar and different, these utterances were propagated within their minds until their ricocheting began to demand a form of realization—

One set much more fervidly than the other.

"C-Cockfilth is squirming around inside my stomach. It's so chunky and nasty that I've ended up squirting e-everywhere…"

"Is this what it would feel like to have a man's semen wriggling around in my stomach? Will it be the same if one of my holes gets gunked up with it, too?"

"I hope so ♥. I-I thought it was strange at first, but this is actually quite a lot of fun!"

"I want to get stuffed with human dickjuice until I squirt again ♥."

"BREEDBREEDBREED. I'M GONNA DUMP EVERYTHING OUT INSIDE THIS AIR-HEADED CUNT!"

"IF HER WOMB IS ANYTHING LIKE HER THROAT, IT'LL ALL GET DRAINED RIGHT OUT. SHE'S GOING TO SUCK A NASTY LOAD OUT OF ME AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW IT. ALL SHE CAN DO IS SQUAT THERE AND SQUIRT LIKE AN' IDIOT, SO SHE DESERVES IT!"

"SHE GOT HERSELF INTO THIS, SO IT'S MY RESPONSIBILITY TO USE HER LIKE THE MEATTOILET SHE IS!"

Being the more passionate and volatile of the two, the bloated male's thoughts were the first to change things between the pair. At the peak of his pumping chain, he abandoned his ministrations and applied the focus that he acquired into barking a demand out at Lucoa.

Simultaneously, he exerted himself to ensure that she complied with it.

"Aw'right, g-get up, Lucoa-chan—stand up and show me all of that wobbling assfat!" he grunted, desperately. "I-It doesn't have to be perfect or nothing! My cock is gonna burst any second, so I just need enough to dig it into you!"

"Don't go f-fallin' over on me either, got it?"

As these words rumbled out of his throat, the bloated male descended to a squat deeper than seemed possible for his frame. Outstretching his hands throughout, his arrival near-to parity with Lucoa's squat set his palms into contact with the pale pudge of her hips. Mustering what little willpower remained in him after the fact, he refrained from molesting the succulent fringes in favor of hoisting Lucoa partway upright.

3/4th of the way through this squat, his motivations for selecting Lucoa in the first place (excluding her airy stupidity) were replayed in front of him. Though bound by the stretched, puke-smeared black fabric of her tanktop, the portly excess of pale-white cleavage that protruded away from her frame was obscene enough to impose contact between their frames. From this alone, his mind generated jiggling, moisture-smeared mental images of what the obscene, J-Cup dough-sacs might look like whilst uncovered. Everything from their obscuring of her upper abdominals right down to their impossible, skull-dwarfing roundness was imagined by his mind until the 'reality' taken in by his eyes ceased to matter.

That his line of sight did not sit here indefinitely was owed solely to Lucoa's lower body. Below the beginnings of her abdominals, a midsection modestly padded by fat (i.e., to the extent that her core musculature was covered by it) and hips smoothly decorated by the same persisted as a secondary source of sexual appeal for her. Thanks to Lucoa discarding her shorts, the manner in which the regions bled together and the fertile vulnerability that they applied to her frame were accentuated by uniform glazes of sweat. Better still, the leaking mound of cuntflesh at the base of her crotch and the meat-padded 'V' that surrounded it were presented to the naked eye as well.

Overall, feeding himself sick on the sight of her lower body's femininity was a slightly more arousing prospect than simply staring at her breasts.

Before he could do so, however, the squirming at the root of his cock reeled his mind back onto the task at hand.

He needed an orgasm. Consumed by desire upon recalling this, he used his grasp on Lucoa's hips to turn her frame and set her rear directly ahead of his crotch.

While this by itself was not sufficient for his ends, the state of his mind left him perfectly willing to believe that it was.

Were it not for Lucoa's newfound desire for conformity, the greed that the bloated male displayed may well have created problems for the pair. Using his request for her to 'show off' her wobbling assfat as a base, Lucoa opted to stabilize her ¾ squat with her arms as soon as the bloated male finished pulling her up. Reaching down with her hands, she wrapped both of her palms around the base of her shins, then bent her upper body far enough forward to push the torso-width bloat of her buttocks back towards her suitor's crotch.

Wrought from her doing so was an ideal 'target' for the bloated male's lusts. Made of the opinion that the grabby tugging of his hands had finally paid dividends, Lucoa's pushing her rear back towards his cock triggered a feral ingress of his frame.

After reaffirming his grasp on her hips, he dipped his torso downward and slammed his crotch inwards. Effectively mounting her lower body as the unwashed porcine he appeared to be, he ruthlessly impressed the destructive girth of his cock through to a midsection-distending hilt through her cunt in the blink of an eye.

From this point onwards, he allowed his frame to do as it wished. Cock surrounded by steaming, arousal-bloated cuntflesh on all sides, his instincts dragged his frame into a noisy *CLOP!*-inducing rut against Lucoa's rear designed to push his length past the point of no return. Thrusts short and weighted by the fat of his frame, the inches-long impacts shuffled his glans back and forth between a punishing tent against her cervix and the stretches of vaginal canal leading up to it until the expected occurred.

In the wake of a particularly grinding nuzzle of pulsing cockmeat against cervix flesh, a thumb-thick thread of grossly bulbous semen was squeezed up his urethra as if pushed along by a syringe plunger.

"NUOOHHH DERUUU~. Take it all into your cunt, Lucoa-chan—drain all of my jizz out with your cunt!" the bloated male bellowed. "YOUR WOMB IS MY JIZZDUMPSTER, SO IF YOU WANNA DO A GOOD JOB, MAKE SURE THAT THERE'S NOTHIN' LEFT!"

The bloated male's bellowing this was primarily for himself. In the first place, the position that he had selected and Lucoa's acceptance of proceedings rendered the results that he desired as a given. Still, the utterance of this fact—or rather, his imposition of it on Lucoa as though she were no more than a means to an end—added onto the satisfaction he derived from his release somehow.

Given the degree of stimulation produced by his orgasm, his accomplishing this with something as 'simple' as an utterance was impressive in a sense. Following his final hilt, the first rope of cockjuice to wriggle its way up through his length burst out of the tip of his cock with a force sufficient for blowing past the partial dilation of Lucoa's cervix. As a result, its entirety was spewed out into a layered, uterus-clogging smear against the roof of her womb.

More significant than the reproductive satisfaction inherent to its discharge was the stimulation that it created throughout the event. Whilst traveling up the bloated male's urethra, the backed-up lumpiness of the strand imposed a sensation akin to the grind of knotted rope through a clenched fist on his length. Though its contents never quite ended up clogging the interior of his urethra, the creation of occasional blockages throughout the tube and its uniform fattening with semen created a strenuous (and addictive) bliss for the bloated male right at the outset of his orgasm.

For every thread of semen his balls sent surging through his length afterwards, the bliss that he enjoyed was intensified. Specifically, as the length and composition of the semen strands were kept uniform—this in turn forcing Lucoa's cunt into uniform convulsions—each glutted blurt that was regurgitated through his length reproduced the stimulation created by his first discharge with a crippling accuracy.

If maintained for long enough, this accuracy threatened to melt the bloated male's mind entirely. Fortunately, the volume of semen built up at the root of his cock guaranteed that such debilitation would never come to pass—

Not for him, at the very least.

Being the sleeve into which all of the bloated male's discolored cockjuice was spewed, Lucoa was subjected to destructive amounts of stimulation right from the beginning of his orgasm. Initially made to grit her teeth tightly enough to present the sharpness of some of her fangs, the compilation of semen strands at the back of her womb eventually loosened her expression into a stupid, lip-pursed mess. Transition timed to the inundation of her uterus' standard volume with bulbous chunks of semen and the suffocation of its inner walls by sperm cells, the intensity of the expression (and with time, the squeal that accompanied it) obtained additional 'fuel' for every additional wad of semen spewed through her cervix beyond this point.

Understandably, these straits made coherent thought a very significant task for Lucoa. In order, thinking properly required that she numb herself to the squirm of portly sperm cells towards her fallopian tubes and their impression into her uterus-lining, deafening herself to the unruly *BLORT*(S) and gurgles produced as threads of semen were blasted inside her, and a display of 'disregard' towards her cunt's squirting convulsion against the meat of the bloated male's cock.

In the moment, these things simply weren't possible for her. Truthfully, though, her incapacity was irrelevant—

Had she the ability to think for herself, her thoughts were almost certain to have amounted to the incoherent squealing of a squealing bitch:

"Uhiiiii~ I'm being squeezed full of cockjuice~! It's staining the inside of my womb!"

"Human sperm is so wriggly and nasty! It's like greasy tadpoles are raping my tummy ♥."

"Higyuhhhhh♥♥!!"

And so on and so forth.

In practice, Lucoa's verbalizations were limited to sustained groans and coos designed to elongate her suitor's orgasm and enhance its quality.

Where these things were concerned, Lucoa did not require consciousness to perform exceptionally. Thanks to her moaning, the volume of yellowed semen that was eventually pumped inside her proved overwhelming enough to send several gurgled splutters of the substance jetting out of the plugged mouth of her cunt less than 30 seconds into the bloated male's release. Congested to the extent that her uterus was made to mirror an oblong, melon-sized sac of semen within her, the sheer amount of semen she drained from her partner punctuated his minutes-long performance as a 'beast' in a way that nothing else could.

Impressively, the extent of his draining encompassed his interest in her as well. As soon as his length's final wad of semen was suckled out by her cervix, the bloated male turned his grasp on her hips into a double-handed shoving of her rear. Working semen-glazed inches of his length back through her cunt over the course of several seconds, not even the onahole-quality suction of Lucoa's canal entrance was potent enough to hold him in place.

To the tune of a voraciously sodden *GLORP*, the nose of his cock slipped from her lower lips once and for all. Auditorily 'succeeded' by the expulsion of semen from Lucoa's cunt against the floor, these noises culminated in an appropriate 'end' for the coupling of the pair responsible for them: a final inundation of the airspace between them with garish sexual noise.

Not long afterwards, the bloated male piped up just as he had countless times prior.

"Whew! Now that was a decent load off…" he grunted, features stretched into yet another yellow-toothed grin. "Thanks for th' help with that, Lucoa. I'm gonna go ahead and head out, but having meatsleeves like you in the neighborhood really is helpful."

"Here's hoping I'll get a chance t' use ya again soon. G'hahah!!"

Air-headed to a fault, the bloated male's words went completely over Lucoa's head. Made to topple over into a cheek-first slump against the floor ahead of her by his retreat, she regarded the sound of his voice in the same way that she had regarded all of the stimuli she had been subjected to in the past minute:

With a jagged, overfucked smile and a pube-flecked visage muttered with sweat and mucus.