Chapter 3: The Second Round
Rose’s fingertips brushed the heated skin, feeling the firm promise beneath. It wasn’t soft. It was dense, like a rope of cable quickly coming back to life under her touch. Sasha watched her, hazel eyes dark with a mix of exhaustion and renewed hunger.
“You’re not serious,” Sasha murmured, but her hips gave a minute, betraying thrust into Rose’s hand.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Rose said, her voice low. She pushed herself up, wincing at the deep, pleasant ache between her legs, the evidence of their first round still slick on her inner thighs. She swung a leg over Sasha’s hips, straddling her, the damp thatch of her own curls meeting the base of that incredible cock. It lay against her stomach, a heavy, insistent weight.
It lay against her stomach, a heavy, insistent weight. Rose leaned forward, her copper curls forming a curtain around their faces, and captured Sasha’s wrist. She guided the sculptor’s strong, calloused hand down, pressing her palm firmly around that thickening base. “Do it for me,” Rose whispered, her breath hot against Sasha’s ear. “Show me how you make it grow.”
Sasha’s fingers curled, a slow, tentative stroke. A shiver ran through her entire frame. “You’re a greedy fucking thing, aren’t you?” she breathed, but her grip tightened, obeying.
Rose watched, mesmerized, as Sasha’s hand began to move in a firm, practiced rhythm. She saw the precise moment the phenomenon truly began again. The shaft, already impressively full, seemed to darken, the skin stretching taut over a sudden surge of internal pressure. Each upward pull of Sasha’s fist revealed another fraction of an inch, the head flushing a deeper, more vicious purple.
“Holy shit,” Rose gasped, her own cunt clenching in sympathetic, aching need.
The growth wasn’t subtle. It was a visceral, almost audible stretch of skin, a thickening that made Sasha’s own fingers strain to circle it. Another two inches of length unveiled itself, the cock now lying fully up her torso, the veined girth of it obscene and magnificent. Pre-cum beaded freely at the slit, dripping onto Sasha’s stomach. “It’s the way you look at it,” Sasha groaned, her hips pushing up into her own fist. “Fuck, Rose, it’s like you’re feeding it.”
Rose’s smile was pure, predatory greed. She released Sasha’s wrist, letting her continue the steady, masturbatory pump. “I am feeding it,” she murmured, her own hand sliding down to slick her swollen folds with the wetness she found there. She was soaked, utterly ready. The sight of Sasha lost in the sensation of her own impossible transformation, her strong arm working, sent a violent thrill through Rose’s core. She positioned herself, the broad, plum-dark head nudging insistently against her entrance.
“Now,” Rose commanded, not asking.
She sank down in one relentless, breathtaking motion. The stretch was immense, a glorious, burning fullness that stole the air from her lungs. She took every impossible inch, feeling her inner walls strain and then mold to the invading shape, a perfect, punishing fit. Sasha cried out, her hand stilling, knuckles white where she gripped herself at the root.
Rose rode it, each deep drive punching a ragged sob from Rose’s throat. The slap of skin, the wet, filthy sounds of their joining, filled the jasmine-scented air. “You take it so well, you perfect, filthy slut,” Sasha growled, bucking upward to meet Rose’s descent.
Rose could only nod, her words lost to sensation, her freckled breasts bouncing with each impact. She leaned back, bracing her hands on Sasha’s powerful thighs, offering her body as a sheath for all that unbearable hardness. She watched it vanish into her, again and again, the visual as obscene as the feeling. “Make me come on this monster you made,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I want to feel you spurt in me while I’m screaming.”
The demand tipped them over the edge. Sasha’s rhythm fractured into frantic, punishing drives. Rose felt the internal swell, the pulse deep within her, just as her own climax detonated, a white-hot wire of pleasure tearing through her womb. Her cunt clamped down in vicious, milking spasms around the thrusting length.
Sasha shouted, a raw, unfiltered sound, as her release flooded Rose’s depths in hot, continuous waves. They collapsed together into the soaked silk, a tangled, breathing mess of spent limbs. Sasha’s cock, still semi-hard and nestled within Rose, gave a final, twitching pump. In the honeyed lamplight, Rose traced a constellation of freckles on Sasha’s shoulder, her greedy smile softening into something quieter, more profound.