The Gamer Chapter 1331 – Getting dirty in the woods (Patreon)

One could think that it was John’s birthday, Christmas, and Steak and Blowjob day all rolled into one, considering what Nightingale did to him on that couch. In the bathroom too. Not to mention on the stairs, at the side of the bus, by the road, in his camping chair, and when he went to inspect the state of the cement.

The harpy was latched onto his groin. For several hours, her upper and lower lip had more contact with his shaft than with each other. Up and down, up and down, her head bobbed, extracting cumshot after cumshot from him. Each time he came down her throat, the potent magic imbued in his virile seed sent through her a rush of pleasure and energy. The former was the cherry on top of her already multi-orgasmic experience, the latter was how she kept going and going. Even though she was a goddess and even though he had been fucking her several times a day for the month, any woman had limits when it came to enjoying him.

Today, Nightingale was driven to go to the very edge of her abilities. No matter where the two of them were, she always was on her knees. Those black lips were stretched around his cock. Stained with mucus, precum and actual cum. Folds inside her throat twitched around John, clenched vacuum tight around him, while she slowly bobbed up and down with venerating intent. Moans reverberated, for the sensitivity of her mouth-pussy and her actual cunt getting licked by one haremette after the other.

Throughout all the moans and the orgasms, the only times that his cock left her throat was when they moved. Now, in his camping chair, John was not going to stand up anytime soon. Pouring water down his throat, he kept rehydrating, while Nightingale did every last thing to boost his ego to unsustainable levels. The attention of her tongue, the tight seal of her lips, the constant, deep-throated moans and muffled screams – she was treating his manhood as if it was her god. A caveat there was, in Nightingale’s throat being more sensitive than most women’s pussies, and she still went above and beyond to worship his cock.

John groaned loudly and let his head slump back. Fading sunlight was only a mild distraction from the absolute bliss he felt. All the way down, Nightingale pressed her lips against the base of his cock and let her twitching insides do the rest. Everything vibrated around him, his whole world turned white, as he unloaded deep within her throat.

Balls tightened over and over again, sending the massive load down her gullet. When he halfway regained control, he slowly turned his gaze to Nightingale. Her brilliant, lavender eyes stared back at him, filled to the brim with love and desire that bordered on insanity. A last intense spurt pumped down her throat. With sensuous bobs, she massaged the rest of the semen from his shaft.

Rave got out from underneath Nightingale moments later. Her face and part of her hair was drenched, leaving no doubt just how much the harpy had enjoyed the combination of service and swallowing her favourite fluid in the world. Before anyone else could take the honour of serving the birthday bird next, she did the unthinkable: her lips separated from his dick.

Like all times when Nightingale stopped sucking him off, it was a struggle. The folds of her throat grabbed him so tightly that John wondered how common it was for harpies to choke on cock. Considering it was this line of genes that survived, it could not have been too common. Ultimately, Nightingale managed to break the vacuum seal of love fluids and throat walls with a loud, lewd squelch.

Heavily panting, she hovered mere centimetres from the tip of his cock. Her purple tongue stretched out, coiled around his rigid shaft, and stroked the length with intense desire. Nightingale’s feather’s rose and fell as a wonderful shiver went through her. Visibly, she forced herself to pull her tongue back in. She cleared her throat. “John… care for a walk?”

The Gamer was not sure how to respond to that. Once Gamer’s Body fixed up the weakness in his legs, it got a bit easier. “Walk where?” he asked, even as he got up.

“Just… a walk,” Nightingale panted. Her entire body was following the movements of his cock. One could get the impression that it was against the laws of nature for her lips to not be aligned with the tip of his dick at any given moment, such was her instinctive reflex. Putting one clawed foot before the other, she broke that law by slowly getting up. She was trembling, nearly collapsed at one point. Her white thighs rubbed together, a slick film of pussy juice and sweat covering the areas adjacent to her groin. Trickles ran down further. A sudden aftershock had her drip clear juices from her cunt. “Johnnnnn,” she sighed, for no other reason than her ecstasy.

“I guess I’ll see you all later,” he said his goodbye to the rest of the camp. Lydia had left again, but the rest of the harem was present to watch him and Nightingale off.

An advantage of her only sucking his cock all day was that her legs were not sore whatsoever. Once the initial aftershocks settled, she could walk along relatively normally. The way she looked at him and the constant panting made it clear: this was not a trip to interrupt the way she celebrated her birthday. It was just a change of scenery to somewhere more isolated.

The forest on John’s property was beautiful – serene even, with any noisy animals removed by the Illusion Barrier. Trees tall and proud surrounded them on all sides, the forest floor crunched under their feet. John was thankful for his high Endurance, otherwise his current nudity would have hurt on the soles. Nightingale had none of that issue, her bird feet stomped forwards without a care.

Impatiently, the harpy reared her head. They had been walking for less than seven minutes, but the forest already swallowed up everything that came from the harem campsite. There was only quiet now, the sounds of their breathing and of the layer of forest debris that they disturbed. “There!” Nightingale moaned, unladylike and eager, rushing towards a moss-covered boulder. Whether that was her target from the start or just the first landmark fitting her criteria, she laid down on it in a heartbeat. “Fuck my ass, my John.”

The demand was as sudden as it was erotic. Wings spread out over moss and stone, the white roundness of her ass rose from the green and grey intensely. Both of her holes were wet with the overflow. The deep grey pussy lips dripped, the lighter sphincter relaxed in anticipation. John was getting ready behind her on instinct. A bit of reason managed to shine through. “You sure you want that first time to be here?”

John had wanted to plough her back entrance during their first time. Heat and intensity at the time had not permitted, and since, they had waited for a special occasion. By heat and intensity, Nightingale had picked this one, as she made abundantly clear with a desperate cry.

“Is this also some kind of harpy tradition?” the Gamer asked, jokingly.

“No, I need you to fuck my ass. That is all the motivation.” Nightingale wiggled her ass enticingly. A soft smack was the appropriate answer to such an invitation. The sharp sound of the clap and her lustful cry were eaten up quickly by the dense forest. Hundreds of years of wood surrounded them. None stood as firm as John’s erection.

Aiming his dick at her backdoor, he rubbed back and forth between the nicely presented cheeks. “God, you have such a great butt,” he complimented her in the uncouth way horny men often did. Nightingale responded with a giggle and a swing of her hips, urging him on.

“Fuck me,” she whined. “Claim my last bit of purity for yourself. I want no cock but yours. Ruin me. Give me the present of your seed in all my holes.”

“I love how much of a slut you become when you’re so horny,” John grunted, softly smacking the left check of her balanced derriere. The ripple spread up her spine in the form of an intense shiver. Hairs stood on end, feathers rose and fell, and Nightingale’s tongue lolled out of her grinning agape mouth. Thick love juices dripped from her stained chin. There was nothing eloquent about her, nothing even remotely suggesting that she had been singing for the highest nobles of Europe for years. She appeared to be just his bitch.

Seriously, how was this her birthday?

John could no longer deny either of them what they wanted. The tip of his cock pressed against her backdoor. Carefully, he upped the pressure until the engorged head started to sink into her. Nightingale sang debauched tones. Shoulders and back tensed, but her sphincter stayed relaxed. This was her first time with this hole, yet she was not inexperienced. Butt plugs were a main stay in John’s arsenal of sex toys, especially for those he was preparing for their anal deflowering. Now that he was a quarter into her ass, that was a short list only containing Lorelei.

Nightingale’s singing collapsed into primitive grunts. “It feels much larger…” Her voice was plagued by the phlegmy undertone of her overflowing throat lubrication. Stretching her double-jointed legs a bit, she raised her ass up a few centimetres, making it even easier to push inside.

There was nothing special about the backdoor of a harpy. More accurately, there was nothing unusual about the backdoor of a harpy. Certainly, it was special to claim her ass for himself. To have her insides surround his cock with heat and tightness. That it was the exact same as fucking any human woman made absolutely no difference. If there was one thing of note, it was just how easy he penetrated her fully. Pressed against her ass, both hands holding onto the pleasing swing of her hips, the Gamer found himself without the need to stop. Where he would have normally waited a few moments, a minute at least, until her sphincter had gotten fully used to being stretched around his girthy manhood, here he simply pulled back and then thrust back in with all the usual hardness.

Nightingale cried in intense pleasure. “Mmmhhmmmore!” she whorishly moaned. More was what she wanted and more was what she was given.

With no mercy whatsoever, John pounded her backdoor. Each time his groin smacked against her ass, the sound spread through the silent forest. Her balanced bubble butt rippled softly, lacking the mass for the absolute obscene displays some of the fat assed haremettes could put on. John was fully recompensed by the feeling of power he had over her slender body. That pale, nubile flesh that was all his to mark in any way he pleased.

The liberation extended beyond the way he used her. Strong and naked, rutting in and out of her eagerly stretched hole, he stood in the forest. The smells, the tactile feedback on his soles, her cries in this environment free of all the business of modern life. All that had any feeling of haste to it was the speed with which he slammed back into her on each thrust. The only thing he had to reign in was his sadism, limiting himself to the levels Nightingale enjoyed.

It hardly took Nightingale any time to orgasm. John was not even sure if she hadn’t cum several times already. All of her tells had melded into her behaviour, after hours of deepthroating him from one climax to the next. The rises and falls of her voice were an extension of a day filled with bliss and perversion.

Bent over her, he hooked two fingers into her mouth. The constant moans were distorted by the pulling presence. The drenched wet tongue of the loyal slut of a harpy licked his hand with utter devotion. “Whose songbird are you?” John asked.

“You-yourssshhhhh,” Nightingale responded immediately.

“Whose cock do you worship?”

“Yoursh, Mashtahrrr, yoursh!” she continued to pant. “I love your cock in my throat! I love it sho musch! Only breeding could make me happieeeerrrrr!”

“Well, I can’t keep what you love most from you, can I, my good little songbird?” The Gamer pulled out of Nightingale, only to turn her on her back. He pushed his cock back into her asshole and continued to fuck her. It would take a bit until his assistant arrived.

Until then, he indulged himself in the look of her eyes. The hand previously hooking into her cheek now laid on the side of her face. Only his thumb was between her lips and she sucked it like the world’s most delicious popsicle. The stare of adoration, love, and boundless desire had only grown more heated.

His thrusts were more measured now, slower and deeper. He kept her on the edge. Stared back at her. Made sure he was her entire world. Only when his double arrived did he break that spell.

John withdrew his thumb, Jack pushed his cock right in her face, and Nightingale reacted like a natural comfort hole. Tilting her head back, she turned her mouth and throat into the straightest line possible. No words were wanted or even needed. The Gamer’s second manhood was surrounded first by her coiling tongue, then her wet mouth and finally her tight throat.

Spine arched, Nightingale was gleefully receiving it from both ends. Her wings were sprawled out, a black, purple-tinted carpet of feathers framing her slender body. Jiggling in their petiteness, her breasts were subject to every impact. When one cock was all the way in, the other was all the way out. Only when John let her breathe was there the slightest pause to be had in the torrent of pleasure he was bestowing on her.

Her chest rose and fell. The subtle definition of her midriff stretched. The midnight blue marks of stylized moon sickles and stars on her body glistened with the sweat of their prolonged lovemaking. Thighs of delectable smoothness pressed against the sides of his hips. His fingers sunk slightly into the seamless fusion of fat and muscle. Not deep, slender as she was, but deep enough to make him grunt with satisfaction. Jack reached down to her deep grey nipples and gave them a playful little twist. Nightingale’s long groan reverberated in his manhood.

There was no need to stop at this level of debauchery when he could still go further. Activating Master Stud, he grew his second cock. All he had to do was angle it properly. Nightingale screamed as best she could, as she experienced the first triple penetration of her life. Her pussy clenched tight around his secondary cock, immediately drenching it with squirting pussy juice.

The proverbial floodgates were open. Constant stimulation reached its peak with all three of her holes getting hammered by John and his double. The timing of his thrusts was impeccable. Stimulation of her sensitive spots was a given. Each time he pushed inside her, his girthy cock created a bulge underneath the Lover’s Will mark.

John just kept on going. The only two concerns he had was for her to have the room to breathe and for him to fill her completely with his semen. Crawlingly, his orgasm approached. Whether it was fifteen minutes or an hour that he kept fucking her for was impossible to say. It was all a blur, in the middle of nature. Certain was only that he was reducing her to even less than a slutty songbird.

Finally, he felt the inevitability of release dawn on him. The numerous tight channels he was filling were taking their toll. His balls tightened. He held on a little bit longer, wanting to feel every bit of the bliss. The sticky folds of her throat. The massaging walls of her pussy. The tight, warm depth of her backdoor. It was too much.

The world grew distant. All senses were numbed. There was only pleasure. John collapsed forwards, barely keeping himself upright on the stone, while he came inside. Came inside every last of her holes simultaneously. Filling his needy harpy up and making her scream.

The first few spurts were by far the most intense. Past them, his field of vision slowly normalized. Dancing dots of lightning moved to the periphery like an opening curtain. He groaned, shooting another big load into her, when the first thing he saw was her lust-ravaged body. All of her plumage was fluffed out. Her torso writhed between the fully sheathed cocks. Every spasm was underlined with a moan and a gush of love juices.

John gradually pulled out, letting her various holes massage the last few drops out of him. Nightingale was still experiencing her climax by the time he had fully withdrawn. Whether calling the slut squirting in the middle of the rock Nightingale was still appropriate was debatable. She was utterly stained with marks from their lovemaking marathon. Her eyes were rolled up, her long tongue curved around his cock, incapable of fully letting go of him. A big, lewd grin compromised her lips.

Perhaps she would have begged for more, had her body not decided that this break was the only excuse it needed to finally shut down. Past the zenith of her pleasure, her voice got quieter and quieter, until she pulled her tongue back in. Her eyelids slowly closed, her body came to a rest, and eventually her breathing stabilized. Without any words, she was knocked out. Completely exhausted.

John scooped her up and carried her back to camp.