← Sweetest Rot

Sweetest Rot — Part 3

Michael’s fucking me into the cave floor, every muscle in his body flexed, every stroke harder than the last, and I’m howling like a banshee with rabies. The ground is slick as a brothel mattress. A two-inch-deep pond of pink slime.

I can’t breathe, but I don’t want to. He’s on top, pinning me, his face all teeth and raw need and that “I’m about to black out” stare, but he won’t quit. His cock is somehow even thicker than before and I can feel every fucking centimeter. I can also feel the slime trying to crawl up my back, and it’s so cold at first it shocks my system. But then the heat kicks in.

“Goddamn, Laura,” Michael grunts, one hand on my breast, squeezing it like he’s testing a melon, the other bracing against the cave wall to keep from slamming my head on the rock. He’s already come once. His cock didn’t get the memo.

The floor sucks at my skin, and every time he pumps, the cave flashes with a sickly pink light. Our shadows writhe on the walls, huge and monstrous. I dig my nails into his shoulders, drawing blood. “You’re going to kill me,” I gasp, and the thought is exhilarating.

He bares his teeth, slamming so deep my vision sparks. “You wish.” He laughs, a raw, broken sound, and it makes me cackle. The slime bubbles around us. Let the goblins come. Let them watch.

The goo is up to my ribs, a warm, numbing pressure that sets my clit on fire. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. For me. I want to see how far he’ll go before he breaks.

“Is the floor supposed to move?” I gasp, but I don’t want an answer. I want him to fuck me until the next party of goblins comes to see what all the noise is about.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” I order, and he obeys, slamming into me harder.

The whole surface shudders. The glow intensifies, and I feel the orgasm building like a detonation. My body locks up, and I squirt so hard the slime around us fizzes, like I’ve poured acid into the mix.

Michael freezes, jaw slack, the arrogant mask gone. Just awe. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “Laura…”

Seeing him like that is better than the orgasm itself. That’s my win. The goo crawls higher, squeezing my thighs like it’s rooting for me.

He pulls out, flips me onto my stomach before I can react. He’s taking back control. Good. The new angle is pure punishment. He grabs my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises for a week, and slams back into me. I can feel the slime in my hair now, behind my ears. It's disgusting. I love it.

He pounds me, relentless, and I know he’s chasing that look on my face again. He wants to break me.

The second orgasm isn’t mine. It hijacks me. There’s no warning, just a full-body seizure that rips a scream from my throat loud enough to crack stone. My pussy clamps down on him, a desperate, crushing grip, and then I’m squirting again, a violent, bucking release.

The slime goes berserk. The instant my climax hits it, the goo writhes and surges upward in a tidal wave, slapping against my back, my neck, my face. I don’t care. Michael is still fucking me through it, his eyes wild.

I want to laugh but all I can do is open my mouth and howl again. The slime gets in there, tastes sweet and sour at the same time. I choke, spit it out, and suck in air so sharp it makes my teeth ache.

The orgasm keeps rolling, and now my legs are kicking uselessly behind me, toes scraping for purchase on the slick cave floor. The more I struggle, the tighter the goo grabs me, like it doesn’t want to miss a single twitch or shudder.

I’m drowning in it, goo plastering my eyes half-shut, but all that matters is Michael’s cock still pistoning inside me.

He roars, grabs my ass with both hands and yanks me flush against him. My whole body bows back, tits up, mouth wide, and I paint the cave wall with another squirt.

The slime soaks it up and retaliates by plastering my chest and pinning me tighter. I want to say something, something mean or funny, but my brain is nothing but static. I feel myself start to fade at the edges, vision going kaleidoscopic.

Finally, the wave breaks. I collapse onto the slime, boneless, leaking sweat and girlcum and more than a little self-loathing. I can barely move. Michael’s still deep inside me, but he’s trembling now, seconds from blowing his own fuse. The pink goo is up to my chin, lapping at my mouth with every breath, and I realize this stuff could probably drown us if we let it. I’d be cool with that. I could die like this.

He pulls me upright, but we keep sinking. He holds me tight against his chest, and fucks up into me. I grind against him, using the weird slippery shit as lube, and try to outlast him. I almost do.

He grabs my hair, yanks my head back, and bites my neck so hard I yelp. He shudders, body going taut, and I feel him explode inside me, pumping so much it leaks out and mixes with the slime. I can feel the warmth in my guts. The goo wraps around us both, sealing the deal.

We collapse, tangled and twitching, sinking together through the pink ooze. I can’t feel my legs. My whole body’s a mess of aftershocks and giggles.

Michael’s still inside me, dick twitching, and he goes, “I can’t believe this is real.”

I roll my head so I can look at him. He’s got a streak of slime from his eyebrow to his chin, and his eyes are half closed, dreamy.

“If I’m dead, don’t wake me up,” I say. “And if I’m not, you’re carrying me out of here.”

He grins, slow and lazy. “I’ll carry you anywhere.”

The goo climbs back to my chin, cradling us. For half a second, it feels safe. Fucking hilarious. Then it pulses, and I swear it hugs me.

Next time, I’m bringing Patrick. Let’s see if the slime likes him as much as it likes us.

The pause doesn’t last.

Laura’s nails are in my back, and I’m trying to pound the sanity out of both of us. The cave won’t let us. The pink ooze is creeping higher with every thrust, a sticky, living trap. My thighs are coated. My balls are slapping against her in a wet, obscene rhythm. The friction is setting my fucking nerves on fire.

I should be tired. I should be fucking dead tired. Instead, my body wants more. That’s not normal.

I catch her eye. She’s grinning, a feral, bloody-toothed mess daring me to break her. Bring it, asshole. I grip her hips, yank her down harder, and she moans, a ragged sound that the cave seems to swallow.

The glow is so bright it burns, but I can’t look away. There are no goblins, no bounties, just this. Her, me, and whatever the fuck this place is. And the unspoken rule: whoever comes last, wins.

She feels me getting close, feels the change in my rhythm. “That all you got?” she hisses, and my control snaps. I rut into her, a mindless, desperate motion, and we both sink deeper into the pit.

Our weapons are gone, swallowed by the goo. I can see the hilt of my sword, blue steel glowing dim through the slime, but it’s at least a foot away and sinking fast. Laura’s bow is nowhere. Not that we’re grabbing for them… if anything, the cave could collapse and we’d keep fucking until we fell through the floor.

My cock throbs, desperate, ready to blow, and I feel a weird pressure on my ass, like something is poking around back there. At first I think it’s Laura being cheeky, but then I realize it’s the slime. A thin, cold tendril slips between my cheeks, coiling and then squeezing with a weird, electric grip. I shiver, not sure if I should be horrified or turned on, but my dick decides for me.

Laura turns, arching her back, legs spread. Her eyes are black pits, wild and demanding.

She's mine. Not this thing’s...

The tendril at my ass pokes again, insistent, and another wraps around my thigh, pinning me to her. Something pulls me deeper into her. Good. Take me.

She bucks, nails raking my ribs, and I see the moment she loses the fight. The slime has crawled between her legs, tiny, questing tendrils flicking against her clit in perfect time with my thrusts. Her eyes roll back, her body goes rigid, and she squirts with a choked gasp. The cave hums around us.

I’m next. The tendril at my ass pulses, a bolt of lightning straight to my balls. The world rips and I go with it. I roar, every muscle locking up, and come harder than I ever have in my life. The slime drinks it down, tightens its grip, and the world goes blindingly, beautifully pink.

We collapse, limp and panting. The ooze bears our weight, carrying us lower. Below us, the pit is yawning wider, and I see something huge and translucent shifting in the depths. No sane man would stay here. Good thing I’m not sane.

Instead, I look at Laura, covered in goo and smug victory. “Bet you the next monster’s not half as kinky as this one.”

She giggles, a wet, exhausted sound, and flops a hand on my chest. “Loser buys drinks.”

The slime quivers. The thing below us stirs.

A tentacle has my arms pinned overhead. I test it and it's useless. The slick muscle coils tighter. Good. Michael is still inside me, a solid, desperate anchor in the chaos. The whole world is just pink neon and the thrumming bass of the cave itself.

The slime holds us as we sink, a fucked-up offering on a living altar. Below us, the pit breathes, and every time we grind together, it widens, hungry.

Michael’s eyes are wide, pupils blown. He shudders, a full-body spasm, and surges inside me. The slime drinks it down before it can touch me, the slick surface shimmering as it wraps tighter around my ribs.

“Are you dying?” I pant, the words raw in my throat. “Because I’m dying.”

Michael grins, teeth stained pink by the light. “If I die, leave my body here.”

“Done,” I snort.

Another tentacle slides around my waist, prying my legs wider. I’m stretched out, completely exposed. The cave is watching. And I’m going to give it a fucking show.

I see him go for his sword. The idiot. Trying to be the hero again. Trying to take back control. No. Not this time. This is my game now.

I look away from him, down into the pulsing pink mass that holds us. “You going to let him do that?” I whisper, taunting it. “He thinks he’s in charge.”

The slime responds instantly. A thick tendril seizes his wrist, yanking his arm back. Another coils around his chest, pinning him flush against me. He struggles for a second, a reflex, before a fucked-out grin spreads across his face. He’s mine. The cave learns fast.

The slime begins to stroke him, a dozen tiny pseudopods tracing the lines of his muscles, all in sync with his thrusts. When I buck my hips, it squeezes him harder, a reward.

My brain shuts down. Pink. Hot. Deeper. His face is gone. Just the teeth. That’s all I see. I erupt, squirting into the slime, and it answers by rolling my nipples between two slick nubs that know exactly what they’re doing.

I scream, a raw, mindless sound. The cave shudders, and for a second I think we’re going to be dropped into the pit. The tentacles hold tighter, milking the orgasm until I go boneless, just dead weight and leaking fluids.

I look up at Michael. He’s shaking, breathless. “Still hard,” he croaks.

I laugh, a ragged, ugly sound. “You always are.”

He thrusts, a weak, reflexive bounce. The slime rewards him. A new tentacle, clear and shimmering, coils around his cock, stroking him with a sickening rhythm. He groans, a helpless sound, and shatters again.

The goo is up to my neck now. The pit below is throbbing.

The tentacles begin to lower us. Slow. Steady. Into the heart of it.

I look down into the swirling, hungry dark below us. And for the first time all day, I feel completely safe.

The slime turns us in its grip. This isn't a cave. The thought hits me, cold and sharp. The walls are pulsing. Breathing. It’s a fucking thing. A Cave Dweller. And we’re inside it.

My gut screams panic, but my cock is still rock hard. The tentacles are thicker now, wrapping every limb, squeezing with a pressure that's half-crushing, half-caress. They hang Laura upside-down beside me, her hair plastered around her head, a wild, predatory grin splitting her face. She’s getting off on this. Of course she is.

Two tentacles coil around her breasts, milking her.

Mine. The thought is automatic, useless. Out here, she’s mine. And this thing is touching her.

Another worms between her legs. She yelps, a sound that's equal parts pain and pleasure, then starts laughing.

Then it's my turn.

A slick, muscular arm wraps my cock, pumping me with a perfect, alien rhythm. My hips jerk. Fuck. Another tentacle pries at my ass, insistent and cold. My gut screams wrong. My cock screams more.

I see a thick, spear-tipped limb drive into Laura. She convulses, a silent, open-mouthed scream.

A red flash behind my eyes. Rage chokes me. Nobody touches her but me. But I can’t move. I can’t do a fucking thing. The monster forces me to watch.

Then two more force their way inside her, one after another. Her eyes roll back, and I watch her body shatter, a series of violent, shuddering spasms.

The thing opens my mouth, a slick tendril fucking my face with a slow, relentless rhythm. It tastes like acid and honey. I hear Laura moaning, a wet, garbled sound.

Below us, the pit glows. The monster’s real body is down there. A universe of writhing, translucent flesh. Mouths and eyes and cocks and holes. And I fucking laugh. A raw, broken sound torn from my throat.

Laura locks eyes with me, upside down, slime and tears streaking her cheeks. “You… owe me… a drink,” she gurgles.

I try to answer, but I’m choking. The tentacles work us in perfect sync. Pressure. Heat. Movement. Nothing else exists. I feel Laura’s climax hit the air, a series of shuddering squirts the monster laps up greedily. It feeds between our bodies like a mouth.

The pleasure spikes, a blinding agony. My body locks up. The last thing I see is Laura’s face, mouth open, eyes wild, as we both come so hard the world goes black.

That femur back at the entrance. The poor bastard probably ended up just like this.

Fucking idiot.

I try to scream, but the goo fills my mouth. It doesn’t choke me. I can breathe it. It tastes like champagne and ozone. Fucking weird.

My eyes snap open, searching. Michael. He’s there, suspended beside me, cock still hard, a slick tentacle still pumping slowly in and out of his ass. His eyes are wide with a stubborn, bullshit pride. He meets my gaze. We’re in the monster’s stomach. And he’s still trying to look tough. Idiot.

The tentacles shift. Two of them. Thick as my arm. They aim. One for my cunt, one for my ass. Oh, you greedy bastard.

They bulge. I can see things moving inside them... white, oval shapes. Eggs.

I try to clench my legs shut. Nothing happens. My muscles won’t obey. Instead, a fucking tremor of anticipation runs through me. The first egg hits my opening, cold and slick. A merciless push stretches me, fills me, and a spike of pure, agonizing pleasure whites out my vision. Another follows. Then another. My stomach swells, a tight, cramping pressure. I shatter, squirting into the void. The monster drinks it down.

I look at Michael. The tentacle in his ass pulses, stretching him open. I watch the eggs disappear inside him, one by one. He bites the inside of his cheek, refusing to make a sound, but his cock betrays him, leaking with every new violation. And a cold, sharp rage cuts through the pleasure.

He's mine.

This thing can borrow him. It can't fucking keep him.

I’d tear this whole monster apart with my bare hands before I let it take him from me.

“It’s… breeding,” I choke out, the words bubbling through the slime.

He glares, a silent, useless denial.

I lose count of the eggs. My whole body is a dull, throbbing ache that is somehow also an orgasm. The goo flows into my nose, my ears. It fills me. Drowning in champagne.

The pit closes, sealing us in. The last of the light vanishes.

Michael reaches for my hand. His fingers curl around mine, a solid, familiar weight in the warm, pulsing dark.

We’re going to die in here.

If it keeps him with me, I don’t care.

I squeeze back.

We drift, full of eggs, the monster breathing around us. I should plan an escape. Instead, I squeeze his hand and think: don’t stop.