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Urban Fantasy: Journey's Start

By: Le Gourmand



The room was hot and damp, and the sticky stench of something nearly rank hung in the air of the tiny apartment, the smell emitted by something that felt out-of-place in such a quaint and well-kept abode. The dead bolts on the door were locked, the key tucked safely in denim jeans draped haphazardly on a nearby stool, the windows closed and the canvas drapes kept secret any risqué business from the prying eyes of curious neighbors. Such was the reality of living in a street where the road was nary 25 feet wide separating one's window from the apartment across one's own, and one was always careful to conceal any illicit affairs occurring in one's own 'happy' domicile.

The sound of quiet muttering and petty squabbling permeated into the thin walls, surely alerting any neighbor who might care enough to listen to such sounds that made absolutely no sense at all. That and the constant sound of moist skin slapping against each other to a steady, sometimes erratic beat tempted the mind's eye into conjuring up lustful images of whatever suited the curious wonderer. It got to a point where the sounds mixed into a wondrous, if somewhat arousing, chorus all on its own. If one listened carefully, the sound of a squeaking bed, moist slapping skin, various grunting and muttering, the occasional lewd comments about being tight and the concurring response, the vain protests and the throaty roars of impending orgasms.

Saharan, disgusted as she was, caressed the tip of the knobby green member that was being pushed up to her face quite incessantly after having sucked sparingly on the throbbing rod already for the past few minutes or so. Unwashed hands gripped at the sides of her head, urging her down onto the angry phallus that threatened to put out one violet eye if she hadn't heeded to what the owner demanded. She wrapped her luscious lips around of the green head, to which a ginger suckling proceeded thereafter, struggling to keep that cock at the entrance of her mouth despite the violent rutting of the other creature behind of her that threatened to push her further onto the cock that she was orally attending to already.

She gasped sharply, squealing and moaning throatily as she was pushed yet to another electrifying orgasm, the sounds produced by which muffled and subdued by what was already in her mouth. She panted and gasped through it all, sweat dripping in fat droplets from her black, matted hair down to her formerly-clean sheets between her hands, joined there by the nectar that ran down in slow rivulets along her creamy thighs. A pair of grubby hands, thick and hard with calloused skin released their perch from her hips and found their way up to her juddering breasts and squeezed firmly, nearly to the point of causing her pain, but it was all so far away now, and she only felt what was on either end of her, or rather, what was inside of her. One motion of green hips from behind and she was pushed further and further onto the stiff cock that was in front of her, threatening to choke her on its thick girth and relatively significant length.

'Ohhhh fuuuuck! Oh gods!' Saharan pulled back sharply from the cock and squealed, pushed over the edge due to the incessant pumping of the ork behind her who thoroughly embedded his knobbed rod deep into her velvety depths.

'Hawhawhaw! She's a squealuh' isn't she, Griblet?' the rutting ork exclaimed to his companion, landing a firm slap on the elf girl's ivory rump, and leaving an angry red imprint on where the hand impacted.

'Yeah, yeah!' came the response, said the ork who'd been holding her head firmly between those calloused hands, one of which was now jerking violently his stiff rod and causing an outpouring of sludgy cum to erupt from the tip onto Saharan's face.

Some sprayed into her panting mouth, a bit stung at her eyes while the rest covered her rosy cheeks in its disgusting taste and pungent aroma. She felt it all, and her mind felt like it was going to die from all the sensations pouring into her brain. She wanted to gag because of what she tasted on her tongue, but the undeniable presence of that cock pumping in and out of her pussy, and the rough fingers tweaking her pert nipples was just too much, even though the thought of it all disgusted her to the point of just shutting herself away from everything outside. The spunk on her face she wiped off with her right hand, sparing a defiant and envenomed glance up at the ork who was kneeling in front of her, but ultimately not being able to say much of anything at all, and spitting out the seed that found itself on her tongue.

The ork was just amused by the look she gave him, savoring the domination he'd have in these few hours afforded to him in her monetary needs. He chuckled once, and yanked on his cock again and it responded by letting out a single spurt of jizz that landed on Saharan's eye, and she hissed at the stinging sensation it caused her, shutting the eyelid as tight as she could manage in a knee-jerk reaction.

Gromet, the ork behind of her doing the rutting finally let out a deep and throaty roar, whilst thrusting his hips in a frenzied manner a few times - causing Saharan to cry out in surprise and slight pain – before unloading a large amount of hot semen into her sopping pussy. Saharan felt it too. The suddenly hot and liquidy sensation proliferating in the tiny space inside her sex. It made her shudder. A large amount of it actually escaped from the tight space between her vaginal walls and the side of the cock, running down her thighs and staining the crusty bed sheets. Gromet pulled his throbbing cock from out of her overstretched pussy, allowing the large amount of mixed liquids inside of her to slosh out in a messy mini waterfall of sexual juices. He jerked his softening cock a few times, getting out every last drop of cum out and spraying the remainder onto the puffy opening that it had just parted from. Every last bit dripped longingly down those vaginal lips. Those beautiful lips that he'd claimed for himself for the time being. Saharan felt it too, and the sensation made her skin crawl and caused shivers to run up and down her spine despite herself.

Gromet stared at her ass for a few good long moments, observing the red hand mark contrasted against the ivory skin where goose bumps had already formed, and he'd noticed that his dick was up again.

'Oi, you want to play again, eh?' asking his dick and chuckling, embedding it in one swift movement back into that velvety entrance, causing Saharan to squeal and moan out loud, rocking back to meet it with full force.

'Gods, I hate both you two… ugh… I really do,' Saharan managed to utter weakly, but with all the conviction she could muster despite the delicious sensations coursing through her body clouding her better judgment and causing conflicting emotions to rise to the surface, glaring unkindly up at Griblet through pleasure-glazed eyes.

'Tch! Just keep in mind Saharan that I'm practically supporting you already!' came the retort from Griblet, his ego smarting at such a remark from Saharan.

'Bad circumstances don't last forever, Griblet, ohhh gods… and when ahhh… find wor-' Griblet cut her off before she could finish by grabbing handfuls of her black hair and pulling her face down to the level of his hairy testicles.

'Uhuh, please tell that to my testicles while you suck on 'em,' and he'd made motion for her to proceed. Frustrated and pleasured at the same time, Saharan was quite easy to manipulate. This was found out by the relatively dim-witted Griblet, and he'd inadvertently shared this tasty bit of information with his flat-mate, Gromet.

With a cloud of mist hobbling her judgment, Saharan obediently began sucking and nibbling the salty testicles, treating them to the warm and slick pleasure that her tongue afforded. She'd gotten well accustomed to being taken from behind, and the constant pumping behind her disturbed her not one bit as she ran her tongue across Griblet's nut sack, moaning every so often each time she'd felt closer and closer to orgasm again, and she enveloped one testicle in her lips and began to suckle like a babe on its mom's teat. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, even herself, but this whole naughty business with Griblet was something she enjoyed tremendously. A guilty pleasure, if you will. That these two dimwits, orks, even, not worth cleaning the muck from her bathroom floor, have the pleasure of taking her like a common whore. She giggled in her mind, thinking that this was all so naughty! Oh, she certainly couldn't tell her parents about this either! They'd disown her for sure.

She was shocked back from her naughty thoughts by as rough thrust from behind, forcing a cry of mixed pleasure and surprise to escape from her lips, leaving her mouth gaping wide. The ever-opportunistic Griblet, seeing this, yanked her hair up and drove his stiff rod into her awaiting mouth and muffling out any further cries that may have issued forth from her throat.

'Dat's a good girl, yeah, take it all in deep,' soothed Griblet, albeit sarcastically, more sadistically than anything else, all ready to let loose another heavy load of his spunk into whatever orifice of Saharan that he managed to get it in to. He thrust his hips forward slowly, feigning care as he slid his knobby rod into Saharan's resisting mouth and felt the back of her throat against the head before altogether losing it and experiencing orgasm again.

Saharan was about to shoot him another envenomed glare before a sudden flood of disgusting sexual fluids that streamed unhindered down her throat and gullet caused her to gag and spasm. So copious was the amount that it looked like she'd puked out a whole meal despite the rod in her mouth.

'Oh yeah…' muttered Gromet, increasing his thrusting as he saw what had just happened up front, finding it all too arousing to be left behind, and he started to spank at Saharan's ass continuously now, before leaning over and grabbing both of her breasts in both hands and kneading them in his calloused palms, his sobering tongue coming out and toying with the pointed end of her right ear down to her earlobe. Saharan coughed, moaned, squealed, squirmed and had an orgasm, her tight cunt squeezing and milking Gromet's cock and causing him to orgasm as well. 

He slobbered all over the back of her neck, issuing forth more lewd slurs while he exploded inside of her, filling her insides with what looked like a cup-full of spunk, a large portion of which squirted out from Saharan's hole. She, on the other hand, was pushed forward so hard that her nose was buried in Griblet's red pubic mound that emitted a stench that could best be described as unwashed sweaty underwear, and she wondered fleetingly about when the last time Griblet could have showered. Probably not in a while now, she told herself, and she was forced to breath through her nose while it was buried an inch deep in those curly hairs.

As suddenly as it was shoved into her mouth, the prick was yanked out in a wash of saliva and other types of unmentionable fluids, and she took in a lungful of humid air that was like a mountain breeze compared to what her nose had just been subjected to. She could feel rough hands yanking her up by the armpit, and the rod that was previously jammed into her vagina slid out in a slurry of sexual juices. It all happened to fast, but not fast enough to not feel that same gnarled rod being shoved into her rump. The pain was sharp, and it bit into her spine like a dog bites into a bone, and Saharan sputtered out a cry from the pain as much as from surprise as the green cock buried itself hilt-deep into her out-hole.

Grib, eager as ever, leaned down and began slobbering over her pert breasts, rubbing his calloused hands over the soft and smooth skin of Saharan's hips, running them down to the rear of her knees which he spread and lifted until she was spread eagled between the two orks. Still emitting sounds betraying pain, pleasure and a host of other sensations, Saharan was jerked up and down like a rag doll between the two, head tilted back, mouth agape, she pulled Grib's head tighter against her chest as he began sucking on her left nipple, as if nursing and expecting milk to flow forth from her breasts.

It didn't come as a surprise what happened next, and Saharan had already felt that large dick of Grib poking around beneath of her, experimenting, looking around for an entrance before she was lowered in concerto with Grom's down-stroke, and she was spit like a side of meat for a large feast.

Like a rag doll being played by a rough 8 year old suffering from ADHD, Saharan was jerked around between the two green bodies, and she struggled to keep a hold of the ork's shoulders before her while either one ravaged her like there was no tomorrow. She could feel their stiff, thick rods pistoning in and out of her holes alternately, and she began to cry out from the sensations, causing her to dig her nails into skin, her toes curling and flexing in the sheer pleasure of what she was feeling.

Quickly, she grabbed one breast with one hand and began pinching the erect nipple, shaking her head as if in denial that all of this was happening, or just from being fucked so hard. She wanted to cup her other breast, but this was already in the palm of one green hand whose owner she was not sure of, and neither did she care at the moment as she finally felt that overwhelming surge welling up from deep within her very being. It was the feint promise of something that would last forever, and she willed it to come, practically begging for it to take her whole and never let go.

As if on cue, Saharan's orgasm took her, promising all of the excesses and hedonistic pleasures the world could offer in a single, ever lasting moment that seemed to go on forever, that tingling sensation that accompanied it coursed through her entirety, and Saharan was screaming in sheer pleasure, her body spasming, her hips working of their own accord as she fought every thrust the two orks gifted her with, trying to drive their cocks deeper and harder into her holes with each stroke.

'Oh, fuck yessss…,' Saharan hissed through gritted teeth, in between loud moans, letting out lewd retorts that left little to the wildest imaginations.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Ebbing away like some unfulfilled promise, one last dying breath or the spirit escaping its earthly vessel, the sensation of pure joy was gone, and she was left panting and shaking all over, draped between the two like some wet laundry left to dry.

The two were just finishing, and Grib pulled out of Saharan's pussy at the last moment, her hole letting out a large discharge of greenish fluids while the cock that had dust impaled it a second earlier began pulsating, spurting out a few large gouts of jizz that stuck to Saharan's belly, breasts and crotch. Grom hadn't even bothered pulling out, instead opting to fill the inside of the hole his cock occupied with his own seed, and Saharan could feel the full warmth coating her insides, as if someone had poured hot syrup into her rear through a funnel.

Saharan practically collapsed down onto her bed once the two orks disengaged from either end of her, slumping down chest first with her behind slowly following suit as her knees gave way and she was left panting and wide-eyed. The other two found themselves turning their heads towards a digital alarm clock that sat nearby, seeing that their lunch break was about 20 minutes closer to finishing, and they'd quickly gathered up their grubby belongings and bolted out the door without so much as saying thanks, but leaving a wad of twenties by the front door, on top of a table stand.

The door shut rather loudly, and Saharan was left with a bit of time to digest what exactly had just happened, but to no avail. It was more rather a blur of things that one coherent stream of memories. Was it even real? Ah, maybe she'd have the luxury of thinking that none of this was real at all. But by the gods, if none of this were real, then the guilty pleasures she'd just indulged in weren't real either. Ah, she'd leave that to her future self in 20 minutes, she thought.

She allowed herself the luxury of lounging about for a few minutes, hearing her joints creak and pop while she stretched out to relax some tired muscles before finally rising to her feet nimbly, only to be surprised by a sudden outwash of greenish fluids from between her legs that ran in rivulets down her thighs and forming a large puddle at her feet. She stared at the puddle, her hazy thoughts not offering much of an explanation before she muttered to herself some incoherent words about a bumbling ork not being able to impregnate an elegant elf such as herself.

'I'll clean that up later,' she mumbled to herself quietly, making a mental note so as not to forget and made way for her bathroom, quite in a daze, still, and her mind swimming in a lake of confusion and just barely managing to stay afloat.

The mirror was there, gleaming and shiny and she'd run the faucet before gargling a mouthful of astringent and water just to rid herself of the terrible after-taste of Griblet's semen, wiping off the thin crust around of her red lips with a small towel.

Who was that in the mirror? The woman that stared back at her was a beautiful one, she thought, but no one she recognized in all honesty. She was all grimy, her jet-black hair all matted with sweat and other unmentionable bodily fluids, she had a minor cut on her lip that dripped ruby red and her violet eyes looked far too old for the face that framed them. She cupped her breasts in her hands, both feeling quite sore from the abuse rendered upon them by the rough hands of that brutish Gromet, and her pink nipples were looking angrier than normal, she noted. Boy were they sore, and Saharan hissed sharply as she discovered a tiny cut on the edge of her sore areola that stung badly at the slightest prod from her fingers. It was but a tiny thing, something akin to a paper cut, causing goose bumps to form around the minute lesion.

'Ah shit… if I wasn't getting paid to do this I'd have those two bleeding on the floor the next time they come around,' she hissed, biting her lip while she dabbed a cloth with alcohol on the tiny cut to clean it. Both those bastards worked with heavy industry, and she doubted if either one of them even bothered to wash their hands before ravishing her like a couple of sex-starved inmates who'd just gotten out of solitary after 50 years in the dark.

Whatever the case may have been, she virtually confined herself between a rock and a hard place, not realizing that she'd practically chained herself with her own choices, 'If I'd only listened to mom, I don't think I'd be this way,'

The water certainly felt nice, hot and steaming as it ran down every curve of her body, cleansing the silky smoothness of any filth that may have accumulated during her recent romp with those two blockheads, scrubbing where the sun didn't shine and down between her toes. It must have glossed over her mind, but she barely noticed the water at her feet running slightly brown and green at the bottom of her tub, and she grimaced at the thought of that sludge actually touching her at all.

'Once I find a job and those two come around expecting sex I am going to have a field day kicking their asses all the way back to kingdom come,' she spat, almost enjoying the visions she saw of herself beating the crap out of those two with a baseball bat and a pair of steel-toed boots. She chuckled audibly, and then sighing out once the weight of it all descended on her, and she'd grabbed her soft blue towel before running through her routine of drying up. Daintily, she stepped out of her shower; towel wrapped about her waist, and made her way back to her mirror.


Urban Fantasy: Journey's Start



She discovered a few more cuts on her skin in various places, some on the sides of each breast, on her hips and a slightly deeper cut on the left-hand side of waist. She patched them all up with band aides, and by the time she was done it looked like she'd just come from a scuffle with a paper cutter and lost.

She gazed at her reflection for long moments, the reasons for which in part were her vanity as she admired herself and the other part was counting how many cuts she'd managed to patch up. One was actually deep enough to draw blood, and a small splotch of crimson was forming on the tiny square patch, the one on her waist. She took a hold of hr black hair, wet and slick with water and fixed it into a top-knot before making her way out of the bathroom and out to the front door nearby, her wet feet leaving slick prints where they touched the ground, and saw the wad of bills sitting pretty in front of picture frame atop the table.

The photo itself was old, perhaps taken when she was but 5 years old, and it was of her sitting on the middle section of a spiral slide giddy and on the way down, with her mom kneeling, ready to catch her at the bottom. All bundled up in a thick purple jacket, with a deep red scarf wrapped around her neck, she looked like she was the happiest kid on earth with that huge smile on her face. 

She remembered that day rather vaguely; something about a long trip to some northern region up on some mountaintop city where everyday was nice and cold and the crows would settle down by her cottage and peck at the leftovers on an old picnic table nearby. She also remembered her dad taking that photo, but it didn't fully sink in at all until it all pieced together the moment it the blissful haze of youth lifted upon the onset of puberty. She could barely even remember his face. It was just a blur, nothing more. Saharan stood there, dripping water before snapping herself out of her reveries. She hadn't realized that she had the frame in her hands in a vise-like grip and she dropped it face-first back on to the table, only to hesitate for a split second as she moved to grab the wad.

'Oh, mom…' she mouthed, her voice barely rising above a whisper as a single fat tear rolled down her cheek, which she promptly wiped away with the back of her hand. The wad she grabbed, intentionally averting her eyes to the scene of her own hand quickly snatching the bills and grasping them tightly in her fist.

Guilt, elation, sadness, happiness, disgust, primal urges and some others to name a few. She couldn't describe them at all, or exactly what state her mental health was in, and neither would she actually know, if at all. Woe, Saharan was but a poor girl trying to keep up with the daily grind of things, and since losing her job has felt the slow pinch of what it was like to sacrifice the luxuries she was so accustomed to, meager as they were compared to her richer contemporaries back home. 

She looked around her small apartment, gazing for long moments at the stuff she had, like her small TV, the little Wii underneath of it, the neatly arranged clothes in her closet, her extremely messy bed, the various photos she treasured so much and down to the bills she had on the palm of her hand. The sight of which made her sick to the stomach, and holding them made her feel like she was clutching at barbed wire just to keep from falling down into the abyss.

She'd begun to despair at the current state of affairs she found herself in, seeing how low she'd gone, whishing it all away while her belly bubbled with acidic taste and the bitter tang of bile nearly crept down her tongue before her hand suddenly slapped her on the cheek, apparently of its own accord, 'Snap out of it Ran. You're strong and you'll make it through this,' she said, steeling herself against the waves of sad realization washing over her ego like the waves of an angry sea crashing against a rocky coast.

'This is nothing,' she said, barely above a whisper. She'd just stowed away all the negative feelings about this whole thing when other emotions, unbidden and raw, rampaged about her inner self; excitement, arousal, anticipation and a host of others encouraging her to take further steps towards unfettered carnal desires. She didn't welcome them.

She decided then and there that she needed a distraction, and the bed was calling to her, the sorry state it was in just tickled at her OCD and she'd walked over, stepping over the puddles of cum, and plucked the dirty sheets off before tossing them into her wicker laundry basket beside her bathroom door. She stood there, still in her bath towel, contemplating over what to do next, thinking quickly if she'd lay new sheets but ultimately decided against it, knowing that Griblet might barge in at any time tonight and expect some poon. And somewhere, under all that doubt and anxiety, buried under layers of pride and vanity was tucked a tiny ember that smoldered powerfully, wishing that Griblet would come tonight, Gromet in tow. 

Saharan sniffed, wiping another tear that was rolling down her cheek as she stood by her bed in nothing but a damp towel, having walked gingerly from her door, and she stared for long moments at the mess that corrupted her place of rest. Even lacking the bed sheets, it was all crusty with white and greenish fluids long since dried up, and a hint of dried brown that was once crimson that pooled in small round patterns that looked like puddles of vaguely reddish mud. 

She knew what it was, where it came from. She also knew that it was hers, having been drawn from the numerous times it would be that time of the month and Griblet would come in expecting some action. Other times it would just be from sheer brutality that she'd bleed from her mouth or from her nose, and the crimson liquid would splash on to her bed like some fine wine from a broken bottle.

The thoughts caused Saharan to shudder in slight fear and – as much as she'd hate to admit – arousal. She'd only see the backhand flying, striking her across the cheekbone and flooring, rather, bedding, her during one of the ork's romps to her bedroom. As much an affront it was to her dignity, some tiny part lit up at the pain caused to her given such a situation. It was like a switch suddenly jerked into the 'on' position after being in the off for such a long time. 

She could still vaguely remember it, though, that day. Her hands were tied to her bedposts, and helpless was she, but not beyond hurling wrathful invectives at the scheming Griblet, who hovered silently between her spread legs, chuckling, and gagging her with an old sock taken from his own boot. The smell was awful, and Saharan's eyes rolled back into their sockets at the smallest hint of that stench before he began the lascivious act of rutting between her creamy thighs. The rest was a blur, as she was caught between passing out and wakefulness, trapped by the ammonia-like smell of that rotten sock. She imagined could almost feel maggots wriggling about.

It didn't matter. Not that she could have done anything either way.

She pushed these thoughts aside, detesting them, but finding herself unable to draw strength to fight her way out of her situation, finding this turn of events not helping much with her dismay at how things have turned out once that fateful day of reckoning had come to pass.

The look of utter desolation appalled her as she surveyed her once pristine living space once more, the feeling of anger and hatred burning bright within her breast before she snarled to herself, 'I have to leave. Leave and ever return to this damn place and to that damn goblin, or whatever the hell he is.'

Scooping whatever meager possessions she had from her closet, the little knickknacks and anything that may be useful into a duffle bag. Clothes, knife, boots, and a small pistol amongst other things were stowed neatly in the bag which Saharan hefted up to her front door.

Struggling into her knee-high boots – far and away harder than snaking into those fish-net stockings – Saharan spat out a few curses, finally pulling up the zip and securing the thick buckles on the outer sides of each heavy boot, wasting no time and smudging on a dark circle of eyeliner around each eye, black arm-warmers, micro mini skirt and a rather small tank top underneath an old and beaten leather jacket. Her crowning glory she wrapped around of her neck; a studded collar that she fastened from behind.

Standing at the doorway of her former home, Saharan took one last look at the mess that used to be her place of living, sneering at the recent set of events that had just taken place in this place that would forever be stained in the back of her mind and at the deepest recesses of her gut, and without missing a beat took off from the cursed apartment, without so much as a word of goodbye to the landlord or her neighbors.

Heading north by bus, a hundred kilometers closer to her former place of living, the girl set out on her journey to forever, guided merely by the slightest whims, or the longing for home that burned bright within her heart. Crossing vast country sides by train, bus or simply hitchhiking, boat or hydroplane the small seas that dot the mega continent that was her country, always moving, never stopping for long until she reached her first destination.

Staring intently at the map laid out on her lap, Saharan traced the jerkily made lines spanning different destinations she planned while on this voyage, small towns and cities already bore an X mark, marking them out as being unlikely to be a good place for her to live in. Her next stop would be this city maybe 50 or so kilometers north of her last stop, and from the news circulating she hoped this place would maybe make a good town for her.

Folding the large map and tucking it under an armpit she shifted uncomfortably, feeling rather cramped in the economy section of this train line, letting out a soft sigh and leaning against the window and looking outside. Squirming again in her seat, she looked behind of her, or rather, at the occupant of the seat next to her to her left and took note of the big, hairy creature sitting there, obviously asleep. Wondering to the gods what the hell it was, for she couldn't quite know exactly what it is, I wonder what that creature could possibly be, was all she could say, and she dismissed all thought of asking it what it might be, for such a fearsome creature that sported claws and long fangs could not have been all too friendly, she surmised to herself.

Looking around, the train was obviously old, most likely used beyond its workable service life, but brought back from the dead by some cheap transport line. It had an odd smell to it, like a mixture of old socks and old wallpaper given a half-assed clean job using some off-the-shelf antiseptic used in public bathrooms. The train squeaked everywhere, and the seats had what looked like blood stains on them, though Saharan couldn't be quite sure what she was looking at, seeing as how many passengers were already drooling on their own seats around of her. How this piece of crap keeps going this fast, I have no clue, she thought to herself.

An automated speaker chimed over head while she stared out at the wide plains and clear blue skies, green fields alive with animals and snow capped peaks dotted the background, and Saharan could quite feel the energy seeping back into her limbs that were tired from all the travel. The speaker chimed again, and a voice heavy with static cut through to everyone aboard the train, Fifteen minutes to Nausinaa. I repeat, fifteen minutes until our next destination Nausinaa. All passengers heading for Nausinaa, please be ready to depart in fifteen minutes.

 That was her next destination, Nausinaa, a small city on the verge of becoming what may be known as a boom town due to the break through projects occurring there, and Saharan hoped she could ride the wave to a stable life when that time comes.

Already, she could see hints of what made this town what it is, and she could see them far, far away in the sky, just barely seen between white fluffs of clouds but dotting a large swathe of blue with their number. Fishing out a pair of binoculars from her backpack which she aimed carefully at the white figures up in the sky she could see them much more clearly now, immensely huge wind turbines up in the sky with blades each a kilometer or more long, suspended high up in the atmosphere from satellites orbiting in space. A white plane was weaving between the turbines, practically on the edge of space, and Saharan wondered how such a feat could be done without ending in disaster.

Putting the binoculars down, she hoped to be able to make a good living here, even if it wasn't at the head of some fancy research project, which she knew she wasn't quite qualified for, or maybe at the very least earn some money on the side until she completed her journey back home, up north to where her family lived.

With that thought came sorrow, and it sank her chest down to her gut; the feeling of guilt and utter failure leaving her empty on the inside. She looked to her slumbering seatmate, and she fought the urge to shake him awake just to be able to recount to him her utter failure, to be able to vent, but one look at those fearsome claws sent her reeling. She looked elsewhere, finding humans, orks, gnomes, little goblins, stone creatures and other beings like her, though much taller and much more slender they had to be quite entirely something else. She looked to the other elfin beings in the carriage, but they were almost few and far between, and she ones she saw were either asleep or were obviously in a state where they did not want to be disturbed.

Her outfit certainly got her a few stares on her first bus ride, and she could have clearly counted the looks of disapproval from the others, some mocking, others out of pure contempt, in other individuals she saw the unmistakable glint of them undressing her with their eyes. It was normal now for her, and through her travails she rarely deviated from her style of clothing. It was what she was comfortable with, and there was hardly any reason to disagree with that.

Slowing down to a full stop from 400 km/h was no easy business, and the old train began to whine and complain as the brakes were applied to its huge wheels, the scenery that was passing by outside the window in a blur only moments ago were beginning to resolved themselves into something much clearer. Trees were no longer green blobs, cars didn't streak by and cows grazing on the field could now be seen quite easily. It took a while, the carriage shaking violently the whole time, but the train soon ground to a halt in the station, Saharan snaking her way past the abominable snow creature with her heavy duffle bag and managing to wake it in the process. 

The creature stood up, and Saharan's eyes grew large in their sockets as she realized how big it really was. The top of its head seemed like it touched the ceiling of the train carriage, and that was saying a lot, to from her vantage, it seemed like the creature was even hunched over a bit as it took its own luggage and began to shuffle out of the train along with the other passengers.

The weather outside the train was really nippy, and Saharan pulled her jacket closer to her body while a strong and persistent wind began pushing at her from every direction. She distinctly felt a shiver travel up her spine as she began her long walk into the station, passing some signs that bade them welcome to the city of Nausinaa.

Opting to walk instead of taking a cab, she inquired about certain places at the station, places of residence like a run-down motel that outsiders like her could stay without paying so much, and she got directions to a cluster of motels a few minutes' walk away. The station itself wasn't that big, but it was getting quite crowded from all the people beginning to come in from the trains that were just now unloading at the tracks, people with looks of hope or sorrow etched clearly on their faces, and Saharan thought to herself how she didn't feel as alone after seeing those looks on other people's faces.

It was about 4 pm on Saharan's watch, and she tucked her time piece back into her pocket before finally chucking her belongings into the dingy room of the cheapest motel she could find and shutting the door behind of her, happy to be out of the cold and persistent winds this place was quite known for. She stood at the doorway, not quite surprised at what she saw; an old TV that looked like it was fished out of some dumpster, a sloppily made bed with sheets that looked deceivingly white, walls that was more wall than wallpaper, and flooring that was more stain than carpet. A single light bulb wavered at the center of the ceiling, shrouded by a cheap looking lampshade, and Saharan shrugged at the sorry state of this little room. Whatever could keep her funds up, she guessed.

It wouldn't have helped much if she checked in at the most luxurious hotel in the area, 'Not that I could afford it either way,' she mumbled to herself.

She was lucky to get a room at all, as the front desk had a long line with the attendant quite irritated to just below the point of exploding with the number of annoying customers checking in, and Saharan wasn't surprised to see some of the people onboard her train were also in line at the check-in desk, chief of whom was that huge furry creature and a scrum of round, little gnome-like beings who'd been giving her the eyeing-up ever since her entrance into the motel. She felt a shiver run up and down her spine, partly in disgust as she clearly saw one sporting an erection leering at her, making no effort to hide his arousal, much to glee of one of his companions. There were about a half dozen of them, but she couldn't be too sure. Not that she could care either way; she probably wouldn't see them any time in the near future.

'Yes?' hissed the woman behind the counter when Saharan checked in earlier. She blinked curiously, surprised at the elfin woman's venomous glare so thinly veiled by a veneer of false cordiality demanded by her profession.

'One room please,' Saharan replied as coolly as she could manage through the irritation crackling between the two of them. She, staring into the attendant's piercing golden eyes, the other returning that glare into Saharan's violet pools, breaking it to turn and grab the last key hanging on the wall behind her. She could almost feel some measure of malevolence within them, but shook the thought from her mind as evil intent could have just as easily been mistaken for irritation.

'Room 27,' said the girl, whose name was Liana, according to a nametag pinned to her uniform, and Saharan could almost feel tendrils snaking their way from the woman, reaching their way to strangle her.

Saharan nodded curtly, paying a fee and hefting her bag along towards where the rooms were. She could vaguely hear a heated exchange behind her, between the attendant and one of those disgusting little gnomes that went something like What do you mean you're out of rooms? I demand a room for my friends and I!

Looking back, Saharan could see it was the bunch of little guys who were harassing her from earlier, and she couldn't help but let a little smirk spread across her lips at their predicament. The horny one stole a glance from her, the venom seething in his eyes at their frustration at not being able to get a room, and she couldn't help but twist the knife a little bit by dangling her key and sticking her tongue out.

That was almost an hour ago, and Saharan had a lot of settling down to do before she could start looking for work the following day. She scanned through the newspaper, pacing back and forth in her room, scrawling out listings and highlighting possible entries such as 'secretary', 'cashier', or 'medical technician' and scrawling out impossible ones such as 'chemical engineer', 'mechanic' and 'translator' amongst other things.




Urban Fantasy: Journey's Start



It was getting dark outside, the subtle changes in the city's usual sounds as the inhabitants went from one phase to another going unnoticed, and Saharan hadn't quite noticed that it was dark until her stomach shook her back into reality, her attention so entirely captured by the job listings that only the loud grumblings and uncomfortable feeling of an empty gut brought her back. She hadn't even noticed it, but she was laid down on the bed that was surprisingly comfortable, and she'd gone through the entire newspaper searching for all possible jobs that were open for her inquiry.

Half-crumpled and nearly torn from the repeated folding, depressing, tossing and scrawling, the newspaper was tossed aside, its precious information marked down and carefully categorized for careful scrutiny for the day to come. Already, Saharan felt a marked rise in her enthusiasm, which was down in the pits these past few days ever since leaving her former home downtown, and after marking down several real possibilities that she felt would actually fit her area of expertise, she'd come to the conclusion that maybe life wasn't so miserable after all.

Outside, the wind was beginning to pick up, and Saharan could already hear the telltale howling though the stained windowpane. She padded gently over to the window, pulling the tattered remains of what could laughably be called curtains and peered outside through the inky blackness, interspersed only with the lights of adjacent buildings and streetlamps and passing cars. There was a convenience store down the road, and from her vantage point she could just make out a gas station where she could buy something to eat, like a hotdog or a sandwich maybe.

She was just about to pull the curtain back when…. What was that? A wash of black, a flitting shadow, an unseen phantom, and try as she might, she couldn't pierce the darkness with but squinted eyes. The interloper was gone. She shrugged, a strange gesture seeing as it was forced and anything but nonchalant, but she couldn't let mere delusions get in her way this time around, not what it got her in the last time around with Griblet, and eventually his little buddy Gromet.

Saharan pulled the curtain shut with a sharp swipe of her hand, giving half an effort to try and not rip them right off their frame in the process given how frail and old looking the curtains were, and rounded to the door before plunging right into the darkness and shutting the door behind her. She patted her pocket, reassuring herself with the key's presence before heading on.

That's odd, she thought. The pathway outside of her room didn't seem to have its ceiling lights switched on. It puzzled and unnerved her in equal measure, and she looked to the open parking lot for signs of any life down there, some driver pulling in, some passerby but there was nothing, just her and her solitude, boots ringing against the concrete as she made her way down the stairs into the open parking lot.

'Phantoms and ghouls, I have one wild imagination,' Saharan chuckled to herself, half amused and annoyed at her propensity for conjuring up such images. She hated to admit it, but that chill wind and the unnerving silence coupled with the darkness made her just about want to jump back into her room. There was something odd, though, and she could swear were eyes burning into her back, but she surmised that it was just her imagination. An idiot's consolation, if you will.

The trip to the gas station didn't take long, and Saharan was back at the motel 20 minutes after leaving, munching on a sandwich, jingling her key. It was still dark in the walkway, this she could see while walking towards the stairs in the parking lot, but the same fear of the dark just wasn't making her belly quiver anymore. Maybe, she surmised, it was just the hunger that was making her fearful. Yeah, that's it, she told herself. Saharan closed the door behind her and fumbled for the lights before freezing at the sound of a faint chuckling coming from inside.

'Well, well, well. Nice to see you here, doll,' came a voice from further into her room, but still terribly too close for comfort.

That voice. It sounded familiar, but it couldn't have been anyone she quite knew, and yet, it was so familiar. It was on the tip of her tongue, and she was about to guess who it was when she suddenly remembered the blade she kept. It sent chills up and down her spine thinking of the possibility of just using it, and her heart beat wildly in her chest as she tried to pierce the darkness with her eyes, but to not avail.

'I'm armed, and I'm warning you,' she said as sternly as she could, drawing the blade from her jacket, the blade glinting mildly in the wan light.

'With that little butter knife?' came a voice from just behind of her, to the side of the doorway, and Saharan spun around on her heel, holding the knife up in a defensive stance, not realizing she was backing slowly, deeper into her room.

'Yeah, and I know how to use it against you creeps!' she cried defiantly, mustering up some courage in the hope that whoever these guys were, they'd think twice.

'I'm quite sure,'

'Indeed,'

'I'm giving you until the count of three to get out of my room, damnit!' came her scream, gripping the blade tightly, shocked rigid at hearing more unfamiliar voices from different parts of the room.

'And I'm giving you until the count of two to put that little toothpick down before I fucking knock you out cold!'

The room was silent for two minutes, and Saharan swallowed hard as she attempted to slowly shuffle back towards the door after realizing she just about walked right up to the bed. She took a step back, feeling something give way as her calf bumped into it, and all hell broke loose, 'Get her!' came a hoarse scream, and something clamed down on her lower leg, another jumped onto her back and Saharan cried out as she plunged her knife down to her unknown assailant, feeling the blade pierce flesh and break free, drawing out a roar of agony from the stab victim. Her mind racing, Saharan drew her hand up to stab again before something hard knocked the blade from her grasp, hot pain surging up along her arm, rendering her hand useless with the knife dropping uselessly on the floor.

Another creature latched on to her other leg, another pulling her one good hand before something struck her in the gut, doubling her over and getting the wind knocked out of her. She tried rising back up, but a blow landed hard on her face, sending her down for the count. Her Saharan's vision swam, and quickly, like a beast with but one mind, her arms and legs were held firmly in place, as if some creature sat on each limb, and she was powerless to do anything.

'You little bastards! You're going to pay for this!' she managed to yell out as the lights came back on from the table lamp beside her bed, and she could just see the small figures of those guys who she'd seen earlier today at the motel's office. One was picking up her fallen blade, but all of them wore a sort of ski mask to conceal their faces and their identities.

The guy who'd picked up her knife chuckled, amused as he raised a foot and placed it on her tummy triumphantly, the others giggling on their posts while they pinned her down to the ground, 'I've had my eye on you the moment you entered the check-in counter, and me and the boys were just planning something daring and complicated when you made things all the more easier for us.

'You see, when we couldn't get a room, we figured that maybe we'd just find a place to stay elsewhere, but that planned turned to shit when there were no other vacancies in any other place,' he toyed with the blade, teasing the tip against the buttons of her jacket and popping them open with a quick twist. He then sat on her tummy, pulling open her jacket with quick chops of his hands, revealing her black Siouxsie tube top.

'But… you see, other places are full, and we've decided to stay the night at your little room right here,' he trailed the knife down along the skin of her pale tummy, gliding it along until it hits the bottom of her top, allowing the sharp edge to tear the thin fabric.

Saharan gasped sharply, feeling the cold steel of her own butterfly knife tracing a faint line up her stomach and down beneath her top. She could hear a faint tearing, and she looked down to see what that despicable little gnome was doing to her favorite top, 'What are you doing!' she cried, gripped in alarm, and even though it was stated as a question she already knew what this bastard wanted of her. He wanted what every other guy down the road seemed to want the moment they laid eyes on her, and the very idea made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She felt bittersweet laughter beginning to well up inside of her tummy, and she held it back as best she could.

The blade easily cut through the thin fabric of her top, revealing only her bra which was also being picked apart slowly with the very blade Saharan hoped she could use to protect herself with against exactly this kind of situation, and instead of doing just that, the shimmering blade had become an instrument to her own violation.

She looked down at her assailant, watched him as his eyes trailed down her body, the same looks on each and every one of these guys spoke volumes of what they intended of her, how one stroked at her thigh while the other tugged impatiently at her jacket, as if simply pulling at it would make it disappear and expose her skin. The rush of emotions and sensations coursing through her gut was almost too much, and Saharan's chest hike up in sharp intakes of breath before she let out a loud peal of laughter that sounded more like a child's joyous outburst than of a woman under duress. If she'd been thinking about it, it would have reminded Saharan of the laughter of a child opening a Christmas present.

All the stress of the previous days was just beginning to pour out through her laughter, and Saharan just couldn't seem to stop her self from laughing. All the frustrations, all the guilt and all the self-appointed blame just venting itself away in what seemed to be the most convenient way. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism. Whatever it was, it didn't last beyond the sharp stab of pain that lanced in the center of her chest, right at the bottom of her solar plexus, and gasping with a wince she drew her eyes down to her chest. The twin cups of her bra lay severed from one another, the tiny bridge of fabric torn where the guy cut them, lightly grazing her skin with the blade.

Saharan watched with a mix of fear, trepidation and disgust as he flicked aside one of her bra cups to reveal her pert nipple which he began suckling on like a hungry babe nursing on its mother's teat. She squirmed under the weight of four small bodies pressing down on her limbs, squealing pathetically when the one sucking on her nipple bit down on the hard nub enthusiastically. She could feel a small tongue twirling around the darker area of her nipple, her other breast being mashed and kneaded in an eager hand.

It all came in the blur, and the next thing Saharan knew was her clothes were being forced off of her body, either properly or cut off with her blade. She could see her clothes being tossed carelessly to the side, either with rough tears on them where they were forced off, or simply pulled off like her socks.

She could feel something crawling up both of her thighs and working their way up to her crotch, and she hazarded a glance down to see both little gremlin-like beings naked and licking long, lustful strokes of their tongues up towards her neatly trimmed pussy. She shuddered; almost afraid as she was disgusted, but she could not deny the exhilaration and blissful sensations these idiots were giving her. She could feel their lust against her skin, hard and hot, and she could just vaguely imagine what they would have wanted to do with her, but she didn't want to think that. The one sitting on her tummy soon drew his tongue away from her nipples, having satisfied his want to simply suckle on both before unzipping his pants and letting his cock spring forth. Saharan shut her eyes tight, gritting her teeth before feeling something flop between her breasts and two hands pressing her soft mounds against either side of that thing between her breasts before it pumped back and forth slowly, soft grunts echoing in the stillness of her room.

A soft breeze gusted past her pussy lips, and she realized too late it was the breath of one of her assailants as he spread her labia apart for a peek of what her insides looked like, before he brushed a tongue against the exposed nub that was her clit, drawing forth a soft moan and gasp from the supine Saharan. She tried to pull her legs together, but their weight and an elbow jammed between her legs made sure they stayed well apart.

The one between her legs inhaled her sexual scent in one long breath before diving in and burying his face into her coochie and slobbering all over the place, making her shudder and moan out softly. She peeked at one of the guys sitting on her arm through a small crack of her eyelid and saw him with his pants down and sporting a throbbing erection that he jerked at furiously, already sweating with the effort. He saw her peeking, and he grinned down at her, edging closer and taking a handful of her hair in his hand and pressing his cock against her lips. She shook her head, grimacing, about to utter a denial before she felt a sharp tip pressing against her jugular and she winced.

Immediately, she took the cock into her mouth, almost gagging but sucking on the fat tip idly and she felt the pressure of the blade ease up on her neck. She shuddered once more, moaning a bit louder this time as her clit was half sucked, half licked and a finger inserted into her tight hole which was becoming wetter and hotter with each passing moment. Saharan kept her eyes shut, sucking a bit harder, bobbing her head a bit quicker as her hair was pulled, and she felt an all-consuming lust begin to grow from within her loins.

A previously unseen male started to squirt underneath of her, and his companions shifted positions so he could squirm beneath of her ass. She could tell he was naked. She could also feel a hard poking against the cheeks of her ass, which a pair of small hands were spreading apart before that same poking started to explore against her other hole. She tensed, shuddering and moaning softly, much to the enjoyment of the guy whose prick she was sucking. The one on her chest was starting to fuck her breasts a bit quicker now, grunting with the effort as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs while holding her breasts against his dick. The one beneath of her began pushing his erection against her anus, slowly pushing until his erection was embedded fully into her ass and at which point he began to fuck her ass slowly but steadily, making her bounce up and down, forcing her mouth onto the cock further each time.

Saharan's world began to swim as all the sensations began to coalesce in her mind, causing her juices to leak from her snatch and drawing an excited remark from the one eating her out. He excitedly drew back from her heated loins, her normally pale thighs and chest now an angry pink and her labia were puffy from her arousal. He yanked his cock roughly, spanking it against her sopping cunt a few times and making Saharan moan and tense with the spank of arousal before pushing its length into her wet pussy slowly, drawing a low, long moan from her throat as she felt herself stretching to accommodate his dick.

The four guys currently ravishing her didn't have any flow in their thrusts, but the ones fucking her in the ass and pussy were alternating their thrusts, driving Saharan to greater heights of ecstasy, making her want to scream and moan as loud as she could, the sounds of their thighs slapping against her loins and ass turning her on even more, and she curled her toes tightly, wanting more.

She felt disgusted at herself for falling into this, for not even trying to push these creeps away, but oh God did it feel good. She could almost… forget she hated being fucked like this, and embrace it for all the pleasure it was giving her. Almost. The pleasure was killing her, and all she wanted right now was to be fucked like there was no tomorrow. Wasn't that what was happening right now? Wasn't she being gangbanged for all she was worth? Fuck yeah.

She swirled her tongue over and under the head of the cock she was sucking, bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically, wanting to milk it of its precious seed and swallow every last drop of it, and desperately craving the taste of jizz once more.

She could feel a much more intense thrusting between her legs and behind her ass now, and she pulled back from the cock and let out a guttural, desperate scream of primal pleasure, 'Fuck me harder! Fuck me! Yes! I want all your dicks inside of me!' she cried out, nearly begging while she pumped her hips as best she could against their thrusting.

Her screams drew a slow ripple of approval from her would-be rapists, and the happily obliged. The one sitting on her other arm apparently couldn't stand it anymore, and he stood up and jammed his cock into Saharan's grip, which she eagerly began pumping back and forth, all the way up from the base up to the very tip

The smell was overpowering, but it wasn't repulsive at all, and Saharan took in deep breaths of it, arousing her further and bringing her closer to her orgasm. She shook and squirmed under the sexual attentions of these creeps, moaning into the throbbing cock in her mouth before finally screaming softly as a tingling sensation crawled up from her loins to the rest of her body, being replaced by the overwhelming pleasure that all orgasms promised. Her pussy and ass both tightened at the same time, and she sucked harder at the cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue over the slit, around the crown and under the head and she jerked the rod in her hand harder and faster, not being able to do anything for the one fucking her tits. As her orgasm passed, she realized the gnome-like guys weren't done yet, and she was railroaded back onto the orgasm express.

She broke off from sucking for a moment, catching her breath before leaning her head back and panting hard. The owner of the cock she was just sucking soon jerked it excitedly before it began to spray thick wads of sticky jizz, most of it landing on Saharan's face, some shooting straight into her mouth, and she lapped up what she could from her lips. She soon felt another hot spray, one erupting between her breasts and sticking to her chest, some again landing on her face, followed by yet another spray, this time from her right hand, the jism landing straight on her face, some finding her eyes and stinging them shut.

The other two fucking her soon started thrusting harder for a few long moments, each grunting before finally erupting in a torrent of sticky jizz inside of her holes, filling her to the point of the excess oozing out with her own cum.

Her assailants soon broke off from her, each pulling out or rising up or walking off into the dark, just leaving her panting hard while flat on her back on the ground. That was just absolutely amazing, Saharan thought, her mind thick with the haze that naturally comes with powerful orgasms, left craving for more. She squirmed lightly on the ground, raising one leg, folding it at the knee while cupping both of her globes in each hand, desperately wanting more. She rubbed her thighs together, the squelching sounds of juices ringing deep in her pointed ears, the erotic noises of her body's byproducts driving her mind deeper into lustful wants, and she pinched and rolled each tips of her breasts between her fingers, moaning softly through half-parted lips, each soft word flowing through like the breath of a corpse or a breeze through a sepulcher, 'More… more… more…'




Urban Fantasy: Journey's Start



Clawing at the carpet, Saharan turned herself over onto her belly and she reached between her legs to slowly stroke up and down along each parted labia while getting up to crawl on all fours right beside of her bed. She kept rubbing at her cunny, keeping her ass raised up and her chest down, trying to sate her lust and at the same time try and lure at least one of those goons back to her heat.

In the wan light, she peered down between her breasts, between her legs, past her hand working furiously at her hot quim, she could see one of them turn from their gathering and waddle towards her rear, and she across her lips spread a feral grin, crying out in surprise when she felt a sharp slap across the side of her rump. The pain was followed by small hands taking a firm hold either side of her hips, before something hard and long was driven straight into her vulva, drawing forth a guttural cry from Saharan, back arching, chest puffing out and head tilting back.

With each mighty thrust from behind, she gave an earnest push back, moaning loudly and issuing rather lewd remarks that seemed unfitting from such a frail person. The flesh of her hips and breasts bounced with each rhythmic thrust, and each time that set of hands pulled her hard back down hard onto that long and thick rod drilling deep into her pussy, her copious juices making the action sound like two slabs of raw meat slapping against each other.

Saharan raised herself up with shaky arms, still pushing her hips back against the fiend behind her, yes wide open, breathing hard and sweating like as if she'd gone through a 2 hour jog in the midday heat, 'Oh, fuck yeah, fuck my pussy hard. I want your cock deeper… harder!'

She got a grunt in reply, just seeing half a grin through that black ski mask and another making his way back to the coupling, his long, thin dick jerking excitedly in his hand. Saharan squinted her eyes, and she fancied she could imagine that prick wiggling like a tentacle, but she couldn't be too sure in the dim lighting. Either way, she was sure it would be good to have another cock inside of her. She licked her lips slowly at the thought while being jerked back and forth from the rough thrusting of the guy behind her. She could see between her legs that he was just standing up even though she was clearly on her knees, but she quickly shut her eyes as another way of immense pleasure coursed through her, one that tickled on the very edges of her toes and tensed every muscle in her body, causing her to clench tightly on the lance that was pistoning in and out of her wet snatch like a well-oiled machine.

Her mind swirled in the excesses of it all, and the barely felt or noticed the squirming form beneath of her, nibbling on her nipples, tugging and squeezing as if she were some kind of cow to be milked, gasping once a mouth latched on to the dark pink nub and suckling. Saharan spread her stance a bit wider now when the one beneath of her squirmed his way down between her legs, refusing to let go of her nipple, which by now was becoming quite sore, and she felt a hard poking between her legs, right where she was joined at the hips doggy style to the one behind of her.

'What are you… uhh… doing…? She struggled to form a coherent sentence through her moaning, still pushing back against the rutting, before feeling a second prick force its way into her tight pussy. Saharan damn nearly lost her head right there. Her whole body collapsed right on top of the one beneath of her and impaling her even further on the second dick while the first one continued sliding in and out of her easily. She felt a lance of sharp pain in her vulva, gasping and breathing heavily, her chest hiking from the extreme mix of sensations that conflicted inside of her mind and body. Wow, was the mix of pain and pleasure intoxicating, and Saharan was pushed over the edge once more, her whole body erupting in a cataclysmic wave of orgasm that sent her crying out in pure ecstasy.

She could feel the slobbering pig that was gorging himself on her cleavage, both of her breasts in his tiny hands, every texture of both pricks sliding alternately in and out of her pussy, every ridge, vein and bump sliding against the velvety walls of her insides as her vaginal muscles clamped down on both cocks, as if to milk every last drop of their jism and suck them dry. Oddly enough, more sensed than seen, she could see the rest of the motley crew sitting by the sidelines, rubbing their dicks to satisfaction. And just as oddly, out of the corner of her eyes, she got the impression that their rods squirmed about like prehensile tails.

It made Saharan shudder. But she couldn't care less at this moment, all she cared for was the pleasure it brought her.

She hugged the head at her bare breasts closer, not fearing that she might suffocate the person between her breasts, as all she cared about was the continual wave of pleasure wracking her body. Her skin was glistening with sweat, and fat rivulets ran down her flanks somewhat reminiscent of a person leaving a steam room, their excess weight leaving their body in the form of sweat.

Riding the crest of her orgasm, feeling every sensation that had to do with contact to her, she felt those two dicks twitch and curve slightly inside of her, daring to tickle at her inner walls. She even thought she could feel them tickle at her cervix, and she imagined that they were long, tentacle-like appendages that wanted to impregnate her like an innocent school girl in some cheap hentai comic, or something of the like. It made her shudder with pleasure.

Her two fuckers thrust alternately, one rod in, one rod out, and this went on for long minutes in smooth mechanical strokes which seemed like hours to Saharan, but she loved every moment of it, rocking her hips back and forth as best she could, moaning out expletives at her would-be rapists and running through several more orgasms. She felt several sharp smacks across her ass, and she looked back slowly to see the sweaty form of the midget-like being behind her, smacking her ass over and over again, making her wince, gasp and shudder before she finally felt a thick overflow of sticky juices fill up her insides. The two were locked in a staccato frenzy of bestial thrusting, each crying out in orgasm while they pumped her insides full of their seed. She could feel every drop as their pricks each unloaded hot gobs of jism, triggering a sudden and unexpected orgasm that rocked her to her very bones.

It wasn't a simple walk in the park for Saharan, and she felt a sudden, leaden weight descend upon her frail form, and she rolled off of the supine form of the guy beneath of her to lay off to one side, disengaging with a loud and audible pop and slurp, a torrent of expended bodily fluids washing out from her snatch, staining the carpet.

More than exhausted, every last reserve in her body bled off from the last hour of or so of fucking. At least it seemed like an hour. She looked up at the clock she knew was there, looking for some clue as to what time it was, maybe out of habit or just out of plain curiosity. Whatever it was, she felt compelled to at least look at the time before drifting off to sleep. She peered up the wall, finding the ticking gadget, but finding something strange about it. It seemed like the motion of the clock was just about getting back in synch with what was normal. Was she seeing things? The time was just about 3 am. But when did she eat dinner? Wasn't that around 9 pm or something?

So many questions, so few brain cells actually awake to help her answer them.

I figure I'll find out in the morning… Saharan thought, allowing her self to fall into sleep's sweet, warm and comforting embrace, taking her to oblivion and set her off to lala land. The carpet wasn't as soft as a clean carpet should feel like, but it didn't matter. It was still almost soft, all the same, and she shut her eyes.

Through slowly shutting eyelids, she caught sight of a shadow moving across her room, as if it originated from where those goons were standing while they were watching their two buddies fuck her pussy at the same time. Oh well. The shadow melted into the doorway, the sounds of the jeering goons evaporating along with the inky blackness.

That's another mystery Saharan figured she'd never solve. For now, the darkness took her into its warm bosom, and she allowed her self to be taken into its soothing embrace.

~To be continued~