Chapter 80: Golden Feast
The throne’s rhythm was a memory in our bones. Even as the last of the compliant vines loosened their grip, withdrawing from our exhausted bodies with wet, slick pops, the ghost of that perpetual motion lingered. My cunt felt hollowed out and sore, yet still throbbing with a deep, residual heat. The air on my sweat-slick skin was a shock.
We slumped forward, the three of us, onto the soft, mossy floor of the grove. The massive fungal caps pulsed above us, their light a sleepy, satisfied glow. For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, ragged and raw.
Elara was the first to move. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, her muscular back gleaming. She looked over her shoulder at me, her dark eyes still blazing with that unspent energy. “The throne’s satisfied,” she grunted. “But I’m not.”
Cora let out a soft, breathy laugh, rolling onto her back. Her enormous breasts, glistening with streams of golden nectar, spilled to either side of her ribcage. The sight was a punch to my gut. “Always so greedy, Elara. Your womb’s so full you’re sloshing. What more could you want?”
“I want to taste it,” Elara said, her voice low and rough. “Not the grove’s shit. Ours. I want to know what we’re making in there.” Her gaze locked on me. “My Queen. You’re dripping. Let us clean you up.”
It wasn’t a request. A current passed between us, thick as the humid air. The power dynamic had shifted, hardened. We were equals, but in this, Elara was driving. I found I wanted her to.
“Cora,” I said, my own voice sounding strange. “Come here.”
Cora obeyed, her movements languid, heavy with fertility. She crawled to me, a smile playing on her round face. I was sitting propped against the base of a giant toadstool. I guided her, my hands on her wide hips, until she was straddling my chest.
“That’s it,” I murmured.
She lowered herself. The soft, staggering weight of her breasts settled against my face, the skin fever-hot and silken. The scent was overpowering—sweet, heady nectar and musk and salt. My mouth opened instinctively, and my tongue found a stiff, pebbled nipple. A thick, warm stream of golden liquid flooded my mouth.
It was unlike anything from before. Richer. Crystalline sweetness cut through with a dark, fungal tang that spoke of the throne’s endless seed deep inside her. I drank greedily, suckling at her as my hands kneaded the impossibly full flesh. Cora moaned, a low, resonant sound that vibrated through her body into mine. She ground herself against my chest, her soaked cunt leaving a slick smear on my skin.
“That’s it, drink her down,” Elara’s voice came from behind me.
I felt my legs being pushed apart. Cool air touched my ass, then the heat of Elara’s body as she knelt between my thighs. Her hands, strong and calloused from a life of farm work, gripped my hips. She didn’t tease.
I felt the broad, wet flat of her tongue drag from my perineum up through my sore, puffy lips, collecting the mixed mess of my fluids and the grove’s cum that still seeped from me. I jerked against her mouth, a sharp gasp muffled by Cora’s tit.
“Fuck, you’re a ruin,” Elara muttered against my flesh, her breath hot. “Absolutely wrecked and still leaking.” Then she dove in.
Her tongue wasn’t exploring. It was claiming. It speared into my cunt, fucking into the tender, stretched channel with a brutal precision. I cried out, the sound swallowed by Cora’s flesh. Elara ate me like a woman starved, her nose buried against me, her tongue working deep before flattening to lap at everything that spilled out. She was drinking the evidence of the throne’s possession, consuming the mixed essence of the grove and its queen.
The dual sensation was unbearable. The gentle, overwhelming submission to Cora’s lush body above, and the aggressive, filthy worship from below. My body, already sensitized to madness, began to coil tighter than ever before.
Elara pulled back momentarily. I heard her spit, a wet sound on the moss. Then her thumbs hooked into the cheeks of my ass, spreading me wide open. “Look at that,” she hissed. “Gaping like a little pink mouth. Throne did a number on this, too.”
Before I could process the exposure, her mouth was on me again. But not my cunt.
Her tongue pressed against my asshole, that other, darker entrance still loose and sensitive from the throne’s invasion. She circled the tight furl of muscle, then pushed. The intrusion was shockingly intimate, dirtier, a violating thrill that shot straight up my spine. She tongue-fucked my ass with the same relentless drive, her tongue delving deep into the channel the grove had carved and filled.
“Oh, god, Elara!” I screamed, my back arching, my hands clutching at Cora’s back.
Cora, feeling my convulsions, lifted herself off my face. Her nipple popped from my lips with a lewd, wet sound. She was grinning, her face flushed. “She’s in your ass?”
“Deep,” Elara grunted, not stopping her relentless rhythm. Her tongue was a slick, demanding piston. “Tastes like forest. Tastes like power. Tastes like you, Amy.”
Cora watched, her own hands moving to her massive tits, squeezing them, making the golden streams arch onto my stomach, my breasts. “Come for her,” Cora urged me, her voice a hypnotic chant. “Come all over her face. Let her drink it. Feed her.”
The command broke me. The coil snapped. An orgasm detonated in my core, a raw, tearing climax that felt like it was pulling my insides out through my cunt. I gushed, a hot flood of fluids—my own, the grove’s, a mixture that was now uniquely mine—over Elara’s driving tongue and chin.
Elara growled into me, the vibration making me shriek. She drank every drop, lapping and sucking as I spasmed, milking the climax from me until I was sobbing, twitching with oversensitivity.
Only then did she pull back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes wild and triumphant. She crawled up my body, her own breasts swinging, her nipples brushing my skin. She kissed me, hard, forcing my mouth open. I could taste myself on her tongue—sharp, musky, complex—mixed with the ghost of Cora’s nectar. It was the flavor of our triad, of our domain.
“Now me,” Cora whispered, her voice thick with need. She was on her hands and knees, presenting her enormous, round ass, glistening and already dripping. “My turn. Lick me clean. Lick us both out of me.”
Elara looked at me, a challenge in her eyes. Together, we moved. I lay on my back beneath Cora, my head positioned under her dripping cunt. Elara knelt behind Cora’s presented ass.
I didn’t hesitate. I lifted my head and sealed my mouth over Cora’s swollen folds. The taste was a deeper, richer version of what I’d sampled from her nipple—fertility incarnate, with the distinct, earthy undertone of fungal seed. I licked into her, my tongue seeking the source. Elara, meanwhile, buried her face between Cora’s ass cheeks, her tongue undoubtedly seeking the same forbidden entrance she’d claimed on me.
Cora bucked between us, a goddess being devoured by her priestesses. Her cries echoed through the grove, a song that made the bioluminescence flare brighter. We drank from her, Elara and I, sharing her essence, our tongues sometimes meeting in the slick, hot space between her holes. It was messy, obscene, and profoundly unifying.
When Cora finally came, she screamed, and her nectar flowed in a torrent, sweeter than before, straight into my eager mouth. I swallowed, feeling the energy of it warm my belly, feed the strange, hungry life inside my own womb.
We collapsed into a pile of limbs, spent and glistening, our breaths mingling. The grove hummed around us, not with hunger, but with a profound, vegetative contentment. We were its heart, and we had just reminded it what that heart was for: not just receiving, but sharing. Not just breeding, but belonging.
Elara traced a finger through the sticky mess on my abdomen, drawing a vague, glowing symbol. “The throne filled us with its future,” she said quietly. “But this? This is our present. This is our power.”
Cora nuzzled into my neck, her body a warm, heavy comfort. “It’s better,” she sighed.
Above us, on the great caps, silver dew formed and fell like gentle rain, washing over us. It was a blessing. A seal.
We slept there, in a tangled, sticky heap, while deep in our bloated wombs, something new and ancient began to stir.