Giving Her Host The Most update (Patreon)

Harry couldn’t hold back when Lash was tempting him so thoroughly. He fucked her asshole as hard as he could, ramming his cock all the way to her bowels, then pulling it back out only to impale her again. Lash felt her cunt convulsing around her fingers. Her asshole did the same around Harry’s reaming prick.

“I’m coming, Harry!” she cried. “Oh fuck, you’re making me come again!”

Harry sympathized. He couldn’t delay his climax any longer. Grunting, he pumped out a viscous torrent of his cum, the jism streaming deep into Lash’s colon. She kept rutting beneath him, squeezing her puckered anus to help him eject all the cum from his balls. And still he fucked her, his erection refusing to die even after he’d released the cum that was seething to free itself.

Lash wondered how she could possibly sleep that night, knowing she had her well-hung host under the same roof, eager to fuck her mouth, her cunt, her ass—surely, he wanted every part of her, the same way she wanted all of him.

“Oooh. Oh!” Lash trilled, overcome with joy.

Her eyelids fluttered briefly open and she saw, gazing down at her and Harry’s tangled body, was Queen Mab.

“Fuck, fuck!” Lash cried, unable to do anything but continue surrendering to the passionate delights speeding through her, flung through her body by Harry and his thrusting and his hot seed even deeper inside her than his cock.

She’d known what it meant to be with Harry. His life was never boring. Even if the sex was enough for Lash—almost too much—she and he would keep getting more and more.

Mab stared down at them as if stricken, paralyzed by something that passed for fascination in her cold eyes. Lash caught her eye and saw, under the surface, something gleaming, something on fire. She licked her lips in invitation to the Winter Queen. She’d come this far—her body reeling and writhing each time Harry plunged his raging erection into her—so she would go all the way with him, however far it ended up being.

“Fuck me,” she whispered to Harry. “Fuck me forever, let me have all of you, we’ll do it all night!”

“Yes, by all means, don’t mind me,” Mab said laconically. “I certainly know how much my Knight needs to… take the edge off.”

Hearing her, Harry glanced briefly up at Mab, but his eyes were glazed. Before he could really comprehend her presence, one touch from Lash had brought him back to awareness of how close he was to orgasm—that crowded out everything else in his consciousness.

The ferocious, all-consuming intensity of his desire blotted out everything but his need to fuck Lash to the last of her pleasure. He drove into her until she whined with happiness; writhing and tossing and throwing her trembling pussy up into his hammering strokes.

The two lovers were so close now that nothing—not even Mab—could slow the surging rise of their approaching orgasm. Lash was blinded by the storming fury of it. Harry seized her brutally, clasping her pliant flesh tightly to his, and pistoned into her. She squealed and cooed, bursting with sharp, luscious peaks.

“GGHHHIIEE!” she screamed, closing her eyes to see brilliant sunbursts as her body went off over and over again.

Harry grunted and groaned wildly, splitting her with his demanding thrusts. “UNNH!” he growled, shuddering and spurting out liquid fire into Lash’s depth, giving and giving, filling her with his seed. Wracking her sweaty, shimmering body with the hard-muscled intensity of his passion for her.

Exhausted, they slumped together, kissing and gasping through the stings of sweet aftershock.

“A-hem,” Mab cleared her throat.

Harry rolled off of Lash. He was surprised he had the energy to do so; more surprised that Lash then had the energy to fling herself on top of his chest, cuddling her face into the hair across his pecs. And, Mab being Mab, he tamped down his exasperation at the interruption and said, as politely as possible: “What can I do for you, Mab?”

“I would think you’ve done enough,” Mab answered, her eyes roving over Lash’s naked, satiated body with what Harry would’ve called envy if—on pain of death—he had to make a guess as to what she was feeling. “Lashiel, I take it you enjoyed yourself.”

“No complaints,” Lash trilled happily. “Your Knight knows what he’s doing…”

“I’m aware. I had him once, you know. He was quite good.”

“He’s gotten better,” Lash deadpanned.