Chapter 2: Lucky
The lab was a wreck. Glass crunched under her bare feet as she took a step, then another, the floor buckling slightly beneath her weight. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. The rage was a furnace in her chest, burning everything else away, leaving only instinct and hunger.
Her eyes swept the room, looking for something, anything, to satisfy the awful itch under her green skin. They landed on the desk, the one she'd been working at for weeks, covered in scattered papers and a half-empty mug of cold coffee. There, propped against a stack of files, was a photograph.
She didn't remember reaching for it. Her huge green hand closed around the cheap plastic frame, and she brought it up to her face. The glass in the frame was cracked, but the picture inside was clear enough. Lewis. Her nephew.
Her thumb traced the cracked glass, the smear of dust across Lewis's grin. Eighteen years old, eighteen, and in the photo his arms were crossed over his chest, that stupid confidence only a kid fresh out of high school could wear. She remembered taking it last summer at the lake, remembered the sunscreen smell and his laughter at her terrible grilling skills.
The rage and the hunger twisted inside her chest, and instead of fury she felt a hot pulse low in her belly. Her thighs pressed together, grinding, the friction of rough green skin against rough green skin sending a jolt through her. She stared at his face, the curve of his jaw, the way his t-shirt rode up just slightly, showing a strip of tanned stomach.
"Fuck," she growled, the word thick and broken in her throat. She didn't recognize her own voice. Too deep, too rough, dripping with want.
The photograph frame creaked in her grip. She lowered herself to the floor, heedless of the shattered glass digging into her knees and palms. The shards crunched beneath her weight, but she felt nothing but the burning need between her legs, the aching emptiness in her cunt that demanded to be filled.
She sat down hard on the glass, her massive thighs spreading wide. The photo she propped up on the overturned leg of a lab stool, six inches from her face. Lewis's smile. Lewis's clear, young eyes. The itch became unbearable.
Her hand moved between her legs, thick fingers dragging through the slickness that had gathered there, and she let out a shuddering breath. She was wet, so wet, the nectar coating her inner thighs as she found her clit. The touch made her whole body jerk, a low growl rumbling up from her chest.
"Yeah," she hissed, stroking herself with more pressure, more intent. "Yeah, Lewis. Fuck, look at you."
Her fingers slid down, one, then two, pushing into her tight, soaking slit. The stretch of her own digits made her moan, a guttural sound that echoed off the lab walls. She curled them, searching for that spot, her eyes glued to the photo.
"Fuck, so tight," she grunted, working her fingers in and out, faster now. Her hips rocked forward to meet her own hand, the wet sound of her cunt being fucked filling the ruined room. The photo blurred as her vision swam with heat and hunger.
"Aunt Lucky," she imagined him saying, his voice young and shy, and the thought alone made her fingers slam deeper, harder, sealing her fist around her own wrist as she drove into herself.
"That's right," she snarled, the words a hot puff of air. "You'd like this, wouldn't you? You'd like watching me do this to myself, thinking about you."
Her thumb ground against her clit, harsh circles, her muscles clenching around her fingers. The orgasm built like a tidal wave, rising from her gut, spreading through her veins like fire. Her moans grew louder, more frantic, desperate wheezes of air as she fucked herself savagely, glass digging into her green ass, blood and slick mixing on the floor.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her rhythm becoming brutal, the wet slaps of her hand against her cunt a fierce percussion. Her back arched, her massive green tits heaving, and she stared dead into Lewis's face, at the boy she loved, the boy who called her for advice, the boy whose trust she was betraying in the filthiest way imaginable.