Soccer Mom, Sex Gladiator

My thighs were shaking like I was being electrocuted. My abs rippled up and down my stomach like I don't know what. He slipped a tentacle inside my open mouth. I was in such a primal state, I greedily sucked it without a second thought.

Gorx blasted me in all three holes at once, voluminously enough that none of them could hold it. There in the ring, before God and everyone, neon-blue goo geysered from my pussy and ass. As for my mouth, I swallowed, spit, gagged, and had it coming out my nostrils. The tentacles that weren't penetrating me blew the stuff all over my body. Lumpy ropes of his semen landed on my skin, which was so sweaty at that point, they mostly just slid off.

All that, and he wasn't done with me yet! My holes were free of tentacles, at last, but my wrists were still pinned together behind my back, and my legs were still spread very wide. To my great dismay, I realized the time had come for me to contend with that monster cock of his. This was the main event!

I was as slick and open as I've ever been in my life. When he slammed me onto that gargantuan prick, it slurped right in with no trouble at all. I only felt a little stretched. Mind you, there's no way I could ever have taken the full length of it, but I was really quite comfortable with the girth. In fact, after all those smaller squirming tentacles, it felt great to wrap myself around something so thick, meaty, and solid.

He bounced me up and down with rapid, full-length strokes, bottoming out every time, pounding a sweet spot near my cervix that only one lover has ever touched before (not my husband, in case you're wondering). My orgasm now had a life of its own, a chain reaction that perpetuated itself on and on and on. My pussy was giving his cock a kind of loving NO HUMAN has ever experienced from me.

All of a sudden, the tentacles released me. For an instant, I hung impaled, my feet dangling in empty space, my body supported by nothing but his cock.

He came like a cannon. He literally blasted me through the air, neon-blue cum trailing from my pussy.

I crashed very unceremoniously on the mat. I lay there on my back, gasping. Honestly, I was still coming hard. Gooshy contractions were still rocking my world. I saw, on a screen, a closeup of my pussy involuntarily clenching and unclenching, desperate for more--which made a bubbly froth of the blue cum that was still leaking out. I felt so close to another extraordinary climax. I slapped and rubbed my pussy, whimpering while jets of my own cum, mixed with his, fountained explosively between my legs. Watery blue drops spattered the lens.

Meanwhile, Gorx strutted around the ring, arms and tentacles raised high and waving to the thunderous applause and standing ovations.

"GORX! GORX! GORX!" they chanted.

When his victory lap brought him back to where I lay, he eyed me with a wicked gleam. He took aim with his tentacles, and unleashed a volley that absolutely coated me from head to heel. I spent the next few minutes coughing and trying to blink it out of my eyes.

That was that. He was utterly triumphant. I was utterly defeated. He conquered me, and there are no two ways about it. It's officially on record as the most decisive rout in the history of sexual gladiating.

As the ring filled with people congratulating my gloating conquerer, and then emptied except for me and a couple of clean-up robots, I realized that nobody was going to help me up, or even offer me a towel. Despite my exhaustion, I rolled onto my hands and knees, and crawled over to my corner, where the elevator would take me down to the locker room. I was dripping blue semen from my hair, nose, nipples, between my legs, you name it. My God, I left a trail of it, just like a slug. The clean-up robots mosied behind me, in no special hurry, spraying it down and mopping it up, since they'd sanitized the whole rest of the ring by that point.

I sobbed my heart out in the shower--not because I was injured or traumatized or even had my feelings hurt, but just because the intensity of what I'd been through overwhelmed me.

Master was waiting for me, with both my boots, when I'd dried off. He didn't say anything as his flying car bore us through the city. He frowned grimly, but I concentrated on the breathtaking panoramic view of all the night-lit buildings.

Gorx had raised me to an astonishing fever pitch of sexual excitement, and it still thrummed through me, an irritating tension that made it hard to sit still and caused me to shiver every so often.

When we were home in Master's unit, and he was letting me into my cage, he must have sensed how miserable I was with all that leftover arousal. He joined me in my bed. I welcomed him with open arms and legs. I was happy when we got together missionary style. After what I'd been through, it felt so nice and normal. I reached between our bodies to guide his cock inside me. It was much more human-sized, and since my pussy had mostly resumed its normal, not-stretched-out state, it felt lovely. I arched my back to grind myself against him. He let me work my tension off, but that's not to say he was passive. Oh no! He fucked me with authority, and my boots swayed in the air to the time of his determined thrusts. I came again and again, but my orgasms were calmer, softer, warmer. I was purring and mewing like a kitten. Every time I came, I came down a little, too.

Finally, I relaxed into that delicious post-coital exhaustion, having melted all my tension away and satisfied everything Gorx had stirred up in me.

But Master was still deep inside me, iron-hard, and I still clutched him tightly with my arms and legs and pussy. I think we both recognized we faced a kind of crossroads. All our fucking up to that point had been about scratching my itch, bringing me down, finishing what Gorx started. I needed it badly, and Master simply did me the favor. If we parted now, it would be very easy to rationalize away, and tell myself that Nothing Really Happened between us. If we kept on, we'd be fucking each other for the sake of fucking each other. To me, that could Mean Something.

I gave him a bop on the ass with my heels, inviting him to please continue. Together, we adjusted our bodies, just a little, just to underline, I think, that something was changing between us. And no question--it was different. All my tense urgency was gone, but I more than made up for it with real passion, which he met and raised with his own scorching fervor. I wanted us to come together, and I wanted him to come inside me. I got both wishes. My contractions milked forceful blasts from him that filled me up, but were nowhere near as brutal as the one that sent me sprawling earlier.

"Oh God," I breathed into his pointed ear. "Thank you." I desperately wanted to kiss him, but didn't want to presume anything. I figured I'd better leave that for him to initiate.

We untangled our bodies. He stood there looking down at me.

Fluttering around like a butterfly in my stomach was a question I couldn't yet bring myself to think: Did we just make love?

"Feel better?" he asked.

I smiled. Stretched. "Mm-hmm."

"Your loss is unacceptable. Come take your punishment."

Um, okay, let's skip that part, except to say that Master made me promise to never lose again. Unfortunately, I broke that promise in my very next bout!

But that's another story, and for now, I have to run. It's soccer day for the kids, and I still don't know what to do about dinner (I do know that hubby's getting SO lucky tonight!).