Chapter 4: The Climax
Their mouths worked in a slick, relentless tandem, May’s smaller lips suctioning desperately at the swollen, red tip while June’s wider mouth engulfed what she could of the broad crown, her tongue lapping at the slit with a dedicated, rhythmic intensity. All the while, June’s fist pistoned along the thick, veined shaft below with a firm, twisting rhythm, her hand raising to meet the bottom of May's chin with each stroke. A deep, seismic tremor began in his thighs, radiating up through the massive frame that towered over them. "He's close," June panted, her voice strained around the heat in her mouth, "the cremasteric muscles are tightening."
"Feels like a volcano prepping," May mumbled, her lips sliding wetly. The thick vein beneath June's fingers throbbed with a frantic, drumbeat pulse. "That's it big guy. Just let it all out," June coaxed, looking up his body to meet his dark, glazing eyes.
She nodded once at May, a sharp, decisive signal. They doubled their efforts in a synchronized, slurping finale, their mouths working in wet, diligent harmony while June’s hand twisted fiercely at his base.
A guttural roar tore from his chest, echoing off the ridge, and his hips jerked forward. The first thick, pearlescent rope launched from his pulsing tip, landing with a wet splat across May’s cheek and glasses.
She gasped, a choked sound of pure surprise, as the second, hotter stripe landed across her lips and nose. “Oh, fuck,” May sputtered, her tongue darting out instinctively and catching a dollop of the warm, salty fluid. Her face contorted in a bizarre mix of revulsion and curiosity. “Oh man… that’s some potent stuff,” she muttered as a third volley hit her chin.
His hips jerked again, a convulsive thrust, and May’s eyes went wide with panic. “Shit, shit, shit!” she yelped, lunging forward to wrap her lips around the erupting tip in a desperate, futile attempt to contain the geyser. Her mouth flooded instantly, filled with warm, salty bursts that pulsed over her tongue in thick, insistent waves.
Her cheeks ballooned almost comically, stretched taut like a chipmunk hoarding nuts, as heavy thick surges filled her mouths capacity and leaked out of her lips. She had no choice but to swallow, her throat working in rapid, convulsive gulps to keep pace with the sheer volume. June watched, mesmerized, as her friend’s neck muscles fluttered desperately, a visible struggle against the overwhelming tide.
Then, with a soft grunt, the Sasquatch gently pulled his still-throbbing shaft from May’s sputtering lips. He guided the slick, dripping tip toward June’s waiting mouth with a surprisingly tender insistence. She understood the gesture instantly; he didn’t want her to miss out, as if it wouldn’t be fair for May to have all his cum.
June smiled slightly, the expression making her freckled cheeks bunch, as she found the gesture strangely thoughtful and sweet in its own primitive, absurd way. "Aww, you want me to have some, too? Okay," she said, her voice a low, husky mix of resignation and genuine amusement. She tilted her head back, opened her mouth wide, and accepted the next salty, pulsing release directly onto her tongue. The warm fluid hit her taste buds in another thick long rope, flooding her palate with a flavor that was musky, primal, and faintly sweet, like wild grass and minerals.
June’s mind raced with calculations of testicular capacity and seminal volume relative to his immense body mass as swallowed convulsively. Her throat working hard to keep up as another thick wave painted the back of her throat.
The final spurts slowed to a sticky trickle, leaving her mouth coated and her chin glistening. She sat back on her heels, breathing hard, the taste of him lingering like a strange, biological proof on her tongue.
She held the last warm mouthful, her cheeks pouched, and scrambled on her knees toward her abandoned pack. Her fingers, sticky and trembling, fumbled with the buckle before retrieving a small, sterile plastic vial.
She spat the contents into the container with a wet, thick sound, sealing the lid with a definitive click. Holding it up to the fading light, she observed the opaque, whitish fluid sloshing against the plastic, her scientific mind already cataloging its viscosity and volume.
"Well," May rasped, wiping a glistening streak from her chin with the back of her hand, "you definitely earned that DNA sample." June nodded, stowing the precious vial safely in a side pouch of her pack before zipping it shut.
Both women remained kneeling, shirts still discarded, their skin puckered in the cool evening air. Silvery traces gleamed on May’s cheekbone and in her eyebrows, while a stray droplet clung to June’s freckled chest just above her breast.
June gathered herself, taking a deep, shuddering breath that did little to steady her racing heart. "The seminal density was extraordinary," she breathed out, her voice hoarse, "just packed with spermatozoa." She swallowed again, the aftertaste still present.
"The volume," she added, shaking her head in professional awe, "that was a substantial ejaculate to ingest." May let out a wet, choked laugh, adjusting her glasses which were smeared at the lens.
"You're telling me?" she croaked, patting her own stomach with a flat hand. "I feel like I just ate a whole meal."
The Sasquatch loomed above them, his massive chest rising and falling in slow, deep waves. A profound, rumbling sigh of contentment vibrated from his throat, his intelligent brown eyes now soft and half-lidded as he gazed down at the two breathless women. He looked utterly, peacefully satisfied, a giant whose curiosity had been generously sated.
With a clumsy tenderness, he reached out one huge, leathery-palmed hand and gently patted each of them on the head, his touch surprisingly delicate. “Well, someone’s cheerful,” May muttered, wiping her mouth again with a grimace as she and June shakily got to their feet.
Their discarded bras and shirts were cold and damp from the moss. They dressed quickly, their movements stiff and utilitarian, not bothering to fasten every button. The creature watched them with quiet interest, his earlier intensity replaced by a calm, focused anticipation.
Once they were somewhat covered, he took a lumbering step back towards the deeper tree line, then stopped. He turned, his shaggy head cocked, and made a series of low, encouraging grunts, beckoning with one sweeping arm. “I think he wants us to follow him,” June said, her voice hoarse but buzzing with a renewed, scientific fervor.
“To his place, you mean?” May asked, her nose wrinkling as she adjusted her stained glasses. “Oh, good. I was hoping for a cave tour after the… culinary experience.” The Sasquatch chuffed, a sound that might have been a laugh, and began to move, his strides long but measured.
He glanced over his broad, furry shoulder every few paces, his dark eyes checking to ensure they were still trailing behind him through the gathering shadows. “This is it, May,” June whispered, her green eyes wide with possibility as she shouldered her pack, the vial within now a priceless treasure. “A guided tour to a Sasquatch dwelling. The research opportunity of a lifetime.”
“And a fucking fantastic photo op,” May conceded with a tired sigh, hefting her camera, its lens now mercifully capped. “Lead on, big guy.” They followed his immense, retreating form into the thick gloom of the ancient pines, the path ahead unknown.