sins as far as the eye can see

Once again, you tapped your fingernails against the wooden floor—click-click-click. From here, you could merely see the base and the portal from which they spawned. But auditory sensations didn't seem to have an effect on them. Deaf tentacles.

From up above came occasional thumps. They kept bumping into stuff on the bookshelf, had already sent your moon water and one of your carnivorous plants flying to the ground (so long, Casper). So, either, they were blind, too—or they just didn't give a single fuck about manners. But you tried to be optimistic here and went with blind. That thing clearly outdid you in appendages, but you had all the senses on your side. And home court advantage. Now, all you had to do was close the portal and hope that it'd take the tentacles away with it. If not—well, that was a problem for future you.

Peering at your phone lying next to the spell book, you bit your lip. The group chat was still open. You could ask for help. But given how it had only been a month since the self-propagating slime incident and your friends were still giving you shit about it, you quickly discarded that idea. How would you even gonna explain this? Hey, so, I kinda wanted to summon a single tentacle for the weekend because it's a fucking Saturday and I'm horny and instead I got about twenty because I can't read properly when faced with the prospect of vaginal orgasms.

Yeah, no. You would be taking this to your grave.

A thud above you made you flinch. A tentacle had bumped into the headboard. How did they even work? Probably had to feel out everything in their surroundings. Touch, graze, probe. If one didn't have eyes, what else was there to do? They had to be big on warmth. On detecting surfaces, wet, dry, rough, smooth. You held your breath as you saw another tentacle slithering over the ground, inches away from your face.

The thing was: You had no fucking clue what you had summoned. Tentacles weren't that well researched, yet. It was known that they came from a different realm and that they probably had some kind of spawning point where they came together. A head, a center for their nervous system, something like that. But no one knew what their deal was. What nutrition they needed, how they procreated, why they even came to be.

A part of you—the stupid, bold part, that liked to free-style potions, annoy the professors with imaginative theses and try out new spells with no back-up or supervision—was intrigued. You could be the first one. The first one this up-close with an unresearched organism. Uncharted territory. Go where no magician has gone before.

For a brief moment, you were already seeing yourself on the front page of the local newspaper, shaking hands with the principal after having published a paper on tentacle behaviorism—and then plant number two joined Casper's remains on the ground.

Yeah, fuck that. Time to say goodbye, you little suckers.

Teeth gritted, you flipped the pages in the spell book in front of you, trying to decide on a course of action. But none of this sounded right. And you really, really didn't want to make things worse.

Something grazed the ankle of your foot. You kicked it off, hoping the spider would go about its way and leave you in peace. You had to concentrate. But seconds later, the sensation was back. Something creeped up your leg. Sliding under your sweatpants. Crawling up further and further. When you looked behind you, you saw a tentacle coming from the crack between the bed and the wall.

For a few seconds, your brain froze. You had no clue what to do. No fucking clue. Fight it off? Grab it and pull? Lie still? The thing slid up further. And further.

“Uhm—” you said, offended, like the tentacle pressing its tip against your clothed pussy was the same as someone bumping into you in the hallway. “Excuse me, I—”

Your mouth fell open. It started moving. Nuzzling. Caressing. Your hands balled into fists. Fuck. Fuck. If you had only read the whole paragraph, you could have had that all afternoon, possibly on orgasm number three by now, and wouldn't have to deal with a bunch of tentacles going bat-shit crazy in your room.

Your head butted the spell book, breath heavy, eyes screwed shut as the tip of the tentacle pressed against your entrance. They should degrade you back to pre-school because—no, even a preschooler wouldn't make such a mistake. And this wasn't even the first major fuck-up of the week. On Wednesday, you had flunked the botany test because you hadn't realized the page had a goddamn back.

In an instant, your head jerked back up. The book—the spell! You turned the page. And there, on the top, it said: Continuation.

You groaned. But not because of that. The tentacle had started rubbing your clit through the fabric.

‘Although the summoned subject is likely not hostile, it is advised to prepare an emergency procedure beforehand and under no circumstances use a closed environment for the summoning.’

Too late for that.

You read on: ‘The spell must be performed in a mental state of complete emotional detachment as tentacle species from realm E.22 have been known to prey on bodily expressions of sexual arousal. If faced with such a creature mid-arousal, retreat or use blocking spell (p. 462).’

Well, fuck. There was no time to check the realm determination table nor learn a fucking arousal blocking spell because that thing between your legs just figured out that it could go beneath underwear.

“No, no, no, no, no—” You reached down your pants and grabbed hold of the tentacle. It was warm to the touch, soft and a little slick. And it was strong. Tensed against your grip, wanted to go back up. Rub against your pussy. And then, it would only be a matter of time until you had a real problem here. So, you did what any reasonable magician would do: You grabbed the waistband with one hand, kept holding down the tentacle with the other, and wiggled out of your pants.

There.

You awkwardly maneuvered onto your side and twisted the lump of fabric around until you were sure the tentacle would be busy for a while finding its way out again. One down, nineteen-ish to go.

And that's when the whole bed moved.

You squealed as another tentacle shot out from the gap. You were dragged across the floor and pulled up, finding yourself floating in the air, right above the portal. It looked like some kraken shit right out of a Pirates movie.

Your hands, balled into fists, flailed helplessly in the air, trying to land a punch. “Hey—let me go!”

Blood shot down and your head starting pulsing in that uncomfortable upside-down throb. You were panting through your attempts to land a hit. Eventually, you gave up. Since this thing didn't have eyes at which you could direct a death-glare, you merely let out a defeated huff.

“At least turn me around, you dickhead.” You crossed your arms.

A lone tentacle came down to your face. You were prepared for anything. But—you didn't expect being smacked in the forehead. Lightly, but still. Your guests really weren't big on manners. It seemed to feel out your face, go down (up) your neck, your chest. It showed some interest in your breasts, fondling them lightly through the fabric of a shirt that was barely wining against gravity. But the tentacle seemed to look for something else. It slid further up, over your stomach, underneath your panties—

“Woah, woah, woah, wait—” You reached up to haul it back. Immediately, a set of arms came out of nowhere and wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back down. And the lone tentacle went on exploring.

“C’mon, dude—don’t. Look, my bad, okay? I'm sorry that I dragged you out of your daily business, I'm sorry I wanted to use you for sex—I'm sorry, okay? I’ll keep my hands off any summoning. I promise.”

You didn't know why you were still talking. There was no way of communicating with this thing. But running your mouth retained you at least a bit of control over the situation. Or so you told yourself.

The tentacle up above tugged at the waistband of your panties. And without further ado, it pulled them up until they were hanging at knee level.

You took a deep breath, head throbbing painfully. There was no getting away. This was happening. Your shirt was in the way, so you didn't see much. But you felt it. Felt the tip on your entrance. Felt it press inside slowly. You mouth fell open, a silent moan on your lips as the tentacle slid inside you all the way.

Then, the whole organism shuddered. Like a hive mind, everything started moving around you, tentacles shivering in the air like eels. In an instant, you were moved into a horizontal position (fucking finally). More tentacles wrapped around your arms, keeping them behind your head, a few others spreading your legs apart. Suddenly, it seemed like the whole network was focused on you. Tentacles hovered in the air above you like antennas of an anemone, their tips twitching almost excitedly. Something was going on here.

The tentacle inside you hadn't moved, yet. But now, it started—flinching? Lapping at something?

“Listen, dude, whatever you're doing in there, it's weird, so—”

To your surprise, it slid back out. It was slick with your wetness. A few tentacles came down to rub themselves against it. You lifted your head. Whenever they touched, another jolt went through the others. And as you watched the procedure, it dawned on you that, accidentally, you had just made a scientific breakthrough. You figured out what they liked to eat.

Without warning, the first tentacle slipped back inside you, started thrusting now. Taken aback, you let out a surprised shout. The sounds were amazing. Your wetness meeting theirs, obscene slick noises filling the room. The tentacles above kept hovering and twitching. Gasping in pleasure, you closed your eyes, let it happen. Fuck it. When would you have a chance at this again? When would another army of tentacles hold you down while you were getting the pounding of your life?

You didn't hold back, let out all the whimpers and moans and cries and more tentacles kept twining around your body, as if encouraging you. It was ridiculous how good it felt to be almost completely enwrapped like that—a blanket of tentacles, a wiggly mass against your skin—and as if the creature felt how much this turned you on, it started thrusting harder.

Little ah ah ahs spilled from your lips, and the tentacles spreading your legs became obsolete, you'd hold them open yourself if it would let you. Would let this thing fuck you until you had a stroke.

“I’m gonna—” was all you brought out before your orgasm hit you. Biting down on your lip, you barely kept yourself from shouting the whole dorm down.

The slick sound intensified, and you weren’t quite sure if you were squirting, or if the tentacle was coming inside you. The bulk of slick arms wrapped around your chest made it hard to see down there. It didn’t matter. It felt wet and warm and good.

Letting your head fall back against a squishy pillow, you groaned with relief. The tentacle pulled out, and something dribbled down your ass.

“Thanks, dude, I really needed that,” you let out, catching your breath.

As if the organism had to deal with its own post-sex bliss, the blanket around you loosened—even so much so that you could wiggle out a little and turn around on your stomach, holding onto a big tentacle like a tree branch. Beneath you, a whole other world expanded. Little planets floated through space, barely bigger than a house. Some had crater-like holes from which the occasional tentacle arm slipped out.

Mesmerized by the fact that you had a fucking galaxy in your bedroom floor, you let your gaze wander over everything the creature wasn’t blocking out with its arms. Big rookie mistake. With a hard pull, you found yourself back at your old spot.

“Okay, okay, I got it, no peeking,” you quickly said, hands raised in a disarming manner, “So—can you let me go?” Chest heaving, you looked up at the forest of appendages floating above you, a lot of them still twitchy. “We had a nice time, right? Guy over there certainly got his fill.” Your head gestured to the lone tentacle sprawled out on your floor, lying in what seemed to be a puddle of its own come.

Holding your breath, you got ready to haul your ass back to safety.

This time, though, the creature didn’t lose any time with another tentacle board meeting. Two of them shot in your direction, wrapped around your ankles, and pulled your legs up—further over your head—until it had you almost folded in half. From your first-row seat, all you could do was watch as another appendage plunged into you. You let out a squeal, and as if this bastard started to anticipate your moves, it pinned your hands above your head.

Stop stop stop stop stop, you begged, your pussy so sensitive it felt on fire. Only now, you saw what a mess it had made—all those juices flowing out of you, starting to run down your stomach. You groaned, struggled against your restraints, and groaned some more but this thing didn’t care. This thing wanted to fuck you and there was nothing you could do about it.

Just as you felt anther orgasm approaching with horrifying force, a violent shudder went through the tentacle inside you. Something flowed your pussy, and eventually started oozing out. The same white substance from before. The tentacle slid out, hauled itself through the air and slumped down on the floor next to the other one.

And something started to dawn on you.

“Are you gonna—” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat. Horrified, you looked around. Counted them. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. “Is everyone of them gonna—”

The creature answered your unfinished question with another tentacle. A thick one. Thicker than the ones before. It stretched you wide open, penetrated you deeper than you thought was possible. With every hard thrust, it filled you perfectly, brushed spots science didn't even have a fucking name for yet. You’d pass out. You’d pass the fuck out if it kept fucking you like that. Slick come was still oozing out of you, running down your thighs, as the tentacle pushed the rest of it deeper. Locked in position, all you could do was watch and feel your orgasm approach again.

And then, something slithered up your back. Over your ass. Your eyes went wide. A noise broke through your lips, faintly resembling a desperate fuck, and a second tentacle slipped into your ass. You were slick all over, so it pushed inside like it was nothing. Started thrusting. First gently, then harder. Not a single coherent thought was in your brain, and like a broken record, all you got out was fuckfuckfuckfuck as they pounded into you mercilessly, as if your juices were an aphrodisiac.

This was godly. This was both fucked-up and godly and wrong—so wrong—and so, so right—what would your professors say if they knew you used your summoning skills for this? If they knew that you loved getting your holes filled by a creature from another realm, probably breaking every magician ethics code on the way? Fuck, if the whole academy knew. If all your classmates saw you like that. Ass up in the air, limbs bound, pussy nothing but a desperate, come-filled hole clenching down on a tentacle, mouth agape in a silent scream. You let out a whine at the thought, and then another, louder one as they sped up.

Two more tentacles came into view, seemed to wait in line. The thick one fucking your pussy angled itself so that it was brushing your clit with every thrust. And that was it. You came again. Hard. And just when you thought it was too much, just when you thought they’d stop and let you rest, they pounded you harder and harder until the thick one started pulsing and, far away, you felt a familiar warmth inside you. It was surreal, seeing all that liquid spilling out, and between coming your brains out and begging them to stop, you started to laugh because what if they could actually knock you up? But that train of thought got lost when the other one came in your ass. You passed out.

When you woke up, it was already dark out. Your room was lit in the portal's ominous magenta glow. Your first thought, oddly, was if you could somehow teach the creature how to close the blinds. What if people could see from outside? Then, you started regaining a feeling for your body. Everything felt weird, like you had overdone the morning stretch. Limbs tense from being maneuvered into unnatural positions. It took you another minute to realize what was going on. Now, you were floating in the air again, hogtied, head hanging down, legs held open. A long string of your wetness hung from your pussy, dribbling down into the galaxy below. The tentacles a few feet beneath you were slick with come, your panties resting on one of them, and—were those two tentacles inside your pussy? You felt so full. And so good. You had dreamed, you remembered. About coming. Or maybe that were the moments you woke up. Fuck. You were so tired. So fucking tired.

“How much longer?” you let out, voice hoarse. “Please, dude. Please tell me you’re done.” You couldn’t see a lot in the dim light. But there were some tentacles resting by the edge of the portal. More than before. Maybe you could speed things up a bit. Get this over with and then sleep for a week. And then try to forget all about it because if not, you’d do it again. You’d do it again and you knew it. You’d get so fucking hooked on this shit that you’d become the odd cat-obsessed loner but with tentacle monsters. Fuck, you could never, ever do this again.

“Hey—one of you, c’mere!” you called out and somehow, it understood. A lone tentacle appeared before you. Maybe they got attuned to their prey over time. It hovered in front of your face and, for a second, you didn’t quite know how to explain this. But then, you simply opened your mouth. It slipped inside. Teeth—you remembered and tried to keep your mouth open wide while your body was weighing forth and back from the thrusts of the others. It quickly got the hang of how blowjobs worked. When it pushed too deep, you made a gagging noise, choking for air, and somehow, the tentacle readjusted.

After you’ve given them a third hole, things did pick up a bit. It certainly helped that they had spread you so far that you could fit two in each hole at one point. Their come tasted curious. A little sweet. Your whole face was painted after a while and as the whole organism moved to fuck you in missionary again, a few tentacles came down and cleaned you up a little. Overstimulation became your normal state. At one point, you stopped counting your orgasms. They blended into each other, like a continuous high, and you were so far down ecstasy lane that you had stopped worrying about what physiological consequences this could cause.

When the sky started slowly turning blue, the thought that you had once lived in a reality without at least one slimy appendage in each of your holes seemed absurd. The slick coat on your skin was your attire. The warm liquid flowing down your throat your nutrition. Feeding this creature your juices your only purpose.

It had changed positions a few times during the night. Doggy seemed to be a favorite. It also liked holding you up in the air in positions even yoga instructors would shake their heads at. An honorable mention went to the time it had you hanging upside down again, your upper body so far down the portal that you were halfway in a different realm. Who could say of themselves that they had their first anal orgasm while looking down into a galaxy?

At 7:26 a.m., your gaze fell at the clock on your nightstand. Sixteen fucking hours. Your chest was heaving, and you finally had your mouth free again. Your limbs were still held down by arms but by now, they were a comfortable embrace, keeping you safe and secure, moving with your body when it thrashed through its climax. You were so used to them, that now, as they let go one by one, you felt an alarming chill run down your body. Nervously, you looked around. Some of them still let you lie on them like a mattress. But the others had freed you. What was going on?

From below, a single tentacle came. It was gorgeous, you thought—and immediately interrupted yourself—they were all gorgeous. All on your own, you spread your legs as wide as you could and pushed your slippery pussy lips apart. The tentacle slithered inside. With a wistful groan, you let your head fall back. This one went slow. Gentle. It savored. By now, you were so used to ruthless thrusting that this was almost a little dull. But the thickness made up for it. Soon, you felt as full as with the others and you lifted your hips a little and started meeting its thrusts. Wanted it to go faster. Harder. Bring you to your limits, where you felt most at home by now.

“C’mon, dude, that’s all you got?” you teased and from behind, a tentacle smacked your head. “Ow!” You laughed and sped up your movements. It did, too, and soon, the room was filled with those mesmerizing sounds, the only sounds you wanted to hear ever again.

But all of a sudden, you noticed something. Where there were once tentacles upon tentacles looking down at you, only your near-empty room remained. The portal seemed to have halved in size. Most of the tentacles have returned below, into their realm. They ominously floated through space, completely uninterested in you. Only the few holding you up remained.

This was the last one.

“Wait—” you said dumbly as the tentacle sped up, your pussy clenching down on it, “Wait, wait—what are you doing?” It didn’t react, kept on fucking you. A bitter-sweet ache spread through your chest. “No, hey, stop—stop—not yet, please!” A cry escaped you as the tentacle started hitting your g-spot, over and over again. “Please, I—ah, fuck—fuckfuckfuck—stop, please—please don’t—” You were so close again, it wouldn’t take long. But this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t stop, not yet. Not ever. This thing had to keep you, take you down to those little planets, keep fucking you, keep breeding you—

You let out a frustrated groan, about to grab the tentacle and push it back, drag this out a little longer—but then this would end and—fuck, you were so close. The tentacle was, too. You felt it pulse inside you. This would be the last time you’d be filled with its seed. The last time one made you come. The last time this would happen to you.

“No—” You reached forward and grabbed the tentacle in a tight grip. But it was so slippery, it pushed right through your grip—probably loving the additional pressure. You heaved yourself up and moved back, but the tentacle merely wound itself around your leg, pulled you close, and went right back to pounding you. You felt it. Felt it tense up. “Please—please don’t come, not yet, not yet, no—fuck—” You cried out, your whole body convulsing, almost falling off the tentacle mattress. You crashed into your orgasm, eyes screwed shut, holding on for dear life. The tentacle came with you, flooded you with its seed, fucked you through everything until your legs went numb. You were coming for fucking ever. It was good. It was so fucking good and you didn’t want it to end. Prayed that it would keep filling you, keep absorbing your juices—you and this creature, for all eternity.

In the afterglow, you barely realized the ceiling was moving. But you felt your bed's mattress under your back, solid and hard, no comparison to being gently held by dozens of arms. The creature tucked you into the blanket. You grabbed one of its appendages, but it slipped right through your fingers.

“Please stay,” you whispered exhaustedly, “Or take me with you.”

The magenta light slowly dimmed. You heaved yourself up on your elbow with your last strength. The portal was closing. Wistfully, you looked back at it. Felt the soreness in your body, your holes still gaping, come starting to flow out of them.

Just as the portal was almost closed, maybe the size of a plate, a single tentacle came out. It floated over to you and slipped under the covers. Like a snake, it slithered underneath the blanket and found its old spot between your legs. A gasp escaped you as you felt it nudge your pussy. Now, you were the one savoring. It pushed inside. At first, you thought it changed its mind and went for a last round. But it kept pushing, almost meticulously, making sure all of its seed stayed inside.

Then, it retreated and vanished in the glowing hole in the floor.

The portal closed.

Your room was bathed in the morning sunbeams. You fell asleep immediately; next time you looked up at the clock it was noon. Putting a hand up to your forehead, you let out a sigh. Your eyes kept darting to the spot on the floor, as if the portal would open again any second. Suddenly, something dribbled out of your pussy. Flowed all the way down until it soaked the bedsheet where a wet patch was already forming. Slowly, your hand slipped under the covers. The seed was slick between your fingers. And then, you pushed it back. Further and further inside.

Why couldn’t you have just been born a Beta for god’s sake? Goddamnn it.

You slipped out of bed, grabbing your phone from your nightstand, legs already weak and lower abdomen burning. You stumbled your way to the bathroom, resting against the sink as you tried to clean the mess between your legs with toilet paper.

It suddenly occurred to you that you’d have to call in sick. No, no, no, no. Fuck.

There was a reason it took you so long to break into your career. Scholarships didn’t like Omegas it was a well known fact. Their perceived submissiveness, disruptive heats and the sheer domination of Alphas in important positions meant most Omegas either were uneducated, got mediocre grades, or had tutors if lucky and rich.

You’d hadn’t got lucky, it’d taken effort because you hadn’t just had to be good, you had to be the best. If they would pick an Alpha with lower qualifications over you, you had to be so good that your secondary gender didn’t even enter the conversation.

So you did that. This would expose everything you had tried to not show. Weakness. You’d worked so hard at pretending you got mistaken for a Beta multiple times. This would ruin that. Everyone would know.

You bit back your tears in anger, it’s not like crying would solve anything and it’d only make you feel weaker. You felt your clit throb, hole clenching over nothing, spasming and you almost dropped your phone in the sink.

You’d slumped down on your cold, closed toilet seat and pulled out your phone. Your knuckles gripped your phone instinctively, already sweating. This wouldn’t stop. The slick builded up between your legs. If you could get yourself to your abandoned nest from your last nest in the corner of your bedroom, you could ‘attempt’ to sleep it off, but that only worked if you got up.

The doorbell rang, and then you heard the sound of keys jangling, the click of the door unlocking and someone walking in. For fuck’s sake. The last person you wanted to see you like this and the only person who could help. Grace Ashcroft.

Grace had known your heat would start today, it’s why she decided to come early after stopping at the store, both hands chock-full of with bags. She’d panicked. Just a little. I mean, this was her partner’s first heat, could you blame her for being nervous?

Sure she’d read for hours on symptoms, and treatments and what helped and nesting and yet she still felt thoroughly unprepared for what she was about to walk into.

“Hey, I-er, I’m coming in. It’s me, Grace.”

She heard a weak groan and immediately dropped the bags by the door, rushing through the rooms of your flat, looking for you. What if you were hurt?

“Are you okay?”

You’d answered but she hadn’t heard it, not that she needed to. The further she delved into your college housing, the stronger the sickeningly sweet smell of apple cinnamon lingered in the air, and although it had no sexual effect on her, it was almost nauseating in its strength.

Grace found you in the bathroom, head in your arms on the marble sink, while your body trembled.

“You- you have to email my teachers, that I’m not coming in. Pl-lease.”

Your voice sounded hoarse and laboured. You wanted to crawl out of your body, you were soaked and irritable and needy.

“O- Okay.” Grace fumbled with her words. You couldn’t even look her in the eyes and everything she’d read had just gone flying on the window.

“What can I- How can I help you..? Can you stand?”

You shook your head, it still nestled in your arms refusing to look at her. It was hard enough for her words to register in your mind when you were trying your hardest to remind yourself how much of a bad idea it would be to hump the side of the bathroom sink.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

Her voice was soft; words came out tentative, testing the waters. She felt out of her depth but also wanted to be there for you no matter what.

You thought about it for a long time. Part of you wanted to prove yourself for whatever reason. To get up and to walk yourself upstairs despite the pain. And part of you knew that there was nothing to prove. At least to Grace. She wouldn’t care if she had to help you, she liked that. You weren’t sure how your body would react to being so close to someone you were so attracted to, but you pushed that out of your head as you looked up at her and nodded feebly.

Grace bit her lip, finally seeing your face. Eyes glassy, lips slightly parted like you weren’t getting enough oxygen still, your face - slightly wet with sweat and eyebrows furrowed.

How did you manage to look so perfect even now?

She moved forward, gently lifting you into her arms, your legs around her waist, resting over her hips.

You moaned as your front pressed against her stomach, something Grace definitely heard and ignored, rubbing your back.

“I’ve got you, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

You nestled your face into her shoulder taking in her scent. It was faint, like most betas, but all your scenes were heightened. She smelt like patchouli, lavender and sea salt and the smell of clean clothes and detergent.

“I don’t want this.” You whined against your will, arms and legs tightening around her as she used her leg to nudge your bedroom door open.

“I know, I know. You’re doing so well, yeah? Because actually, you managed to get all the way to the bathroom, so yeah. That was good.”

Grace considered melting into the furniture.

“Mhm.” You gave a non-committal grunt.

Grace finally placed you down in your nest, sitting down next to you and pulling out her phone.

“I, I’m gonna send that email, hold on.”

Fuck, you regretted everything. Fuck the email you wanted Grace to fuck you.

Her hands fidgeted as she typed into her phone and you nestled in her side again, letting out an involuntary whine that made Grace turn to look at you and your whole body burn.

“Do you want this?” Her blue eyes pierced into you, her hands tugging on the hem of her sweater. Before you could answer, she took it off and put it next to you.

“Here, now you have something else that smells like me to add to your nest.” She smiled.

Grace felt like she should physically help you. She wasn’t stranger to heats, she’d been in sex-ed classes and furthermore she’d researched it - but she didn’t want to make that jump unless you initiated it. She definitely didn’t want to pressure you into having sex with her.

She watched as you buried your face in her sweater, blissfully unaware of the moans you were muffling.

During all her typing you’d realised you’d had enough in between fighting back tears, your soaker underwear and your clit throbbing angrily, you’d decided you couldn’t wait.

You grabbed her arm, laying on your stomach.

“Grace.” You said firmly and hoarsely, voice barely concealing your need.

“Yeah,” She looked up from her phone distractedly. “Yeah? What is it?”

You took a deep breath, but to be honest you didn’t have any energy left from dealing with body tremors and cramps to be embarrassed.

“Please fuck me.”

Grace certainly expected you to ask but was caught of guard with how blunt you were.

“Y-Yeah, um, yeah no problem- um.” She mumbled, her cheeks dusted pink

She got up and you watched her deer-in-the-headlights expression as she looked at your bedroom door.

“I brought something for this, just one sec.”

You would of laughed at her preparedness if you didn’t just want her to get on with it.

“Okay.” You groaned. “Hurry.”

Grace rummaged through the bags, trying to find what she was looking for while keeping her anxiety at bay. She knew this moment would come, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before: it just hadn’t been like this. You hadn’t been this vulnerable yet.

Grace quickly pulled out the strap harness and dildo out of her bag rushing back to you.

When she came back into the room you were practically panting, scent enveloping the entire room.

“I-um, I read that penetration helps more, so I got this, we don’t have to use it but-“

Her words came tumbling out and you cut her off.

“P-please just- I really can’t-tt take it anymore..”

Your pussy was spasming constantly now, and your fingers gripped the blankets and clothes beneath you just to hold you in a seating position.

Grace fumbled around with the strap harness, finally getting it on. She thought she looked a little stupid like this, she’s bought it in your favourite colour. Was that weird to do? She was still fully dressed but she doubted you could wait any longer for her to take her clothes off.

“Okay, a-are you sure?”

“Yes, I swear to god Grace.”

“Okay, okay.”

Her kisses started slow, reverent; down your neck, to your collarbone and then back to your lips. You kissed her like a drowning man begging for air, almost pulling her on top of you. You leaned into her, whimpering into her mouth and her hands came to your hips holding them in place, as if to tell you to calm down.

“Hey, take it easy…”

She murmured, one hand up your shirt, tracing cupping your breasts, the other by your waistband. You were too desperate for her to notice the irony.

“Can I?” Grace asked, her hand raising the hem of your shirt, you nodded fervently.

“Yes, yes please.”

Grace lifted your shirt, her hands already at your breasts, caressing them. She rubbed her thumb over a hard nipple and you moaned, already sensitive.

“God they’re so- your tits are so fucking perfect.”

She said hoarsely, giving your right breast a firm squeeze that felt like an electric shock went through you.

She leaned into you, her lips placing kissed on your areola before sucking on your nipple. You squirmed, your hands gripping her hair. Your head was reeling, your clit throbbing so much you’d think it had its own heart beat.

“Grace, fuck pllease just…” your breath hitched.

“Okay, yeah um, let’s handle that.”

She delicately peeled your shorts and underwear down, her breath hitched at the sign of your glistening pussy.

“Oh, oh wow uh- guess we won’t need the lube I brought then…”

Grace’s eyes widened and she rubbed her neck nervously. You looked at her, your glare speaking volumes.

Her fingers slipped into your folds and she circled her index finger over your already sensitive clit. Your legs tensed, and she kept on hand on your knee to keep you steady and open for her.

Grace let out a gasp at the wet squelching sounds from your drenched hole as her finger slowly rubbed against you.

“This is okay, right?”

“Yes, fuck yes, don’t you d-dare stop.”

Grace nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she focused on your pleasure alone - her fingers ran tighter circles while her lips met your chest once more, hand slipping up to your hips, leaning forward until she was almost on top of you, strap poking you in the stomach.

You bucked into her hand sporadically, the moans leaving your lips borderline pornographic. It wasn’t long after that Grace finally built up the courage to use the strap, her mouth pulling away from your tits.

You stared up at her anxiety mixing with lust as her hands rested on the knees of your spread legs.

“You’d let me know if it hurts right?”

God, she was so sweet.

“Yes. Yes I would.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly and Grace lined up the strap with your entrance, you felt sparks under your skin as it brushed your inner folds.

Grace tried to lower herself slowly but the slick meant she bottomed out almost immediately. Your fingers dug into the bed as you moaned loudly.

“Shit, shit are you okay?” Grace started to pull out and you gripped her wrist, mind hazy.

“Yes, fuck don’t. Keep going, keep going baby.”

She initially kept her thrusts slow and deep, searching for that spot she kept reading about while her fingers found your clit again. She was amateur; not that you cared. Thrusts out of rhythm, accompanied by the beautiful symphony of her little gasps and grunts as if she could feel you clenching around her strap. You’d believe her if she said she could.

“More… more I’m getting close.”

You threw your head back, and Grace watched your tits bounce with her thrusts and felt herself getting wetter. You were so loud and unashamed, and stunning, she couldn’t keep her eyes off you and that perfect mouth.

“F-fuck you’re practically swallowing me.” Grace mumbled, her thrusts stuttering as she felt the rising tension within her.

She found that spot that made you whimper the loudest and her strap hit it rhythmically, rapid and shallow as her fingers changed from circling to rubbing your clit, giving you almost constant friction.

“Grace- Grace, fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna c-cum don’t stop-

Your words came tumbling out as you orgasmed, your pussy clenching around her strap as your cum covered it and her jeans. Grace helped you ride it out, her strap stationary but her fingers gently rubbing; forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards. Until you came down from your high, breath as laboured as hers.

You finally felt some semblance of relief.

“H-holy shit.” Grace stared at you wide-eyed and you suddenly felt so exposed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made you cum so hard.”

You snorted.

“Don’t get cocky,” you chuckled, “besides, I’m not the one who came untouched.”

You gestured at the damp patch at the crotch of her jeans. She’d likely been so focused on your pleasure she hadn’t even noticed. Her face blushed bright pink.

“That’s- I, I didn’t know I could do that.”

“It’s fine,” you looked up at her, her sweaty afterglow mesmerising. “It was very sexy.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, just both of your heavy breathing and the ticking of your alarm clock.

“Should I still send the email?”

There’s another nun in the convent who you think of as your particular friend. You spend more time with her than any of the other women, frequently working together and often confiding in each other.

Right now the two of you are happily working and talking in the kitchen. You watch her surreptitiously as she kneads the bread dough. She’s such a pretty little thing, always cheerful and smiling, with generous curves that even her shapeless habit can’t hide. As she rolls out the dough, learning over the kitchen counter, her breasts swing back and forth beneath the rough wool of her tunic. You’re mesmerized by the sight, but you jerk your gaze away, flustered, when she turns to you with a smile.

Later that night you lie in bed and abuse yourself. You commit this shameful act every night now, imagining any number of lewd and shameful things, but tonight you're thinking of your friend, thinking of her ample breasts swinging back and forth over the kitchen counter, thinking of her hands kneading the thick dough and imagining them on your chest.

The next day you do another long set of chores with her. You try to keep your eyes from her bosom, but by the end of the day, your pussy is buzzing with need, and all you want to do is go back to your room and rub that aching wetness between your legs.

Your friend walks you back to your plain little cell. She hesitates at the door, and looks shyly at the ground as she speaks.

“Would you mind if I asked your advice on something, Sister?”

“Of course,” you tell her, surprised.

“Well… It’s just that I’ve been experiencing a lot of… discomfort lately, in my… between my…” She’s still staring down at the ground, tongue-tied and blushing. You feel your own face getting hot when you realize what she means.

“Oh,” you say, voice cracking nervously.

"Lately it's been getting so swollen and wet all the time... I can barely keep my mind on my work." She looks back up at you with her big worried eyes. “I just don’t know what it means. You don’t think I could be ill, do you?”

She doesn’t know what it means? Could she truly be that innocent? You can’t respond for a moment, because you’re vividly imagining her plump wet privates, and your own privates start to throb in response. You know you should put a stop to this conversation, but she looks so worried and confused.

You noisily clear your throat. “It happens to me too sometimes… But there are things you can do to relieve your discomfort.”

“Really?” she says, looking suddenly hopeful. “Will you show me what to do?” She catches your hand and presses closer to you, excited, inadvertently pressing her plump breasts into your arm. Oh God… They’re so much softer than you imagined. And she’s looking up at you with such a sweet, trusting expression.

Against your better judgment, you let her follow you into your cell. You shouldn’t be doing this; you’re making her complicit in your sin. But she’s still looking at you with those big, trusting eyes, relying on you to help her in her hour of need. How can you say no to her?

You sit down on your thin mattress, scoot back and spread your knees to create a space between your thighs. You gesture her over gingerly, patting the mattress so that she sits between your legs, looking over her shoulder at you, shyly but with affectionate attention and interest. Good lord… You look away from her sweet face and concentrate on slowly pulling up the fabric of her skirts, then reaching down and carefully feeling the lips of her pussy. She lets out a little “Oh…” of surprise as you gently explore her folds. You swallow convulsively. She’s already so swollen and wet… You’ve never done this to anyone else, but you try to imagine how you do it to yourself. How you tease yourself, lightly massaging your fingers over the soft folds, stroking the sensitive edges and dipping between them to feel the growing wetness. You feel her breathing get faster as you tease her like this, and she leans back against your chest.

Unable to resist the temptation, you slide your other hand onto her chest and heft one of her plump breasts, soft and moldable even through the layers of fabric. You can't help it, you start kneading and groping her breast, and she moans gently in your arms.

“Tell me if you want me to stop…” you whisper.

“No, please,” she begs, breathless, “please keep going, it’s just what I need. It feels so good—” She gasps as you start to rub her faster. She lets her head loll back against your shoulder, her eyes squeezed gently shut and her pretty lips parted on a little moan as you rub her swollen pussy. She moans sweetly and undulates her hips as you bring her closer and closer to release, rubbing her harder and faster and fondling her breasts more eagerly until she bites back a little cry and starts cumming against your fingers, writhing in your arms, breasts heaving under your hand.

With an effort of will, you remove your hand from her bosom, and pull your other hand out from between her legs. She’s still leaning back against you, panting.

“Oh…” she says, breathless. “That was so… so wonderful… I feel so much better… Thank you…” She looks up at you with her sweet face all dreamy, and you wonder if she would mind very much if you kissed her. But before you can broach the subject, she stands herself up, swaying a bit as she rights her skirts. She grins at you, thanking you again, but she really should be getting off the bed now.

Your boyfriend is a werewolf, and he loves belly rubs just as much as a dog. He’s lying beside you on his back with his long body stretched across the bed. You sink your hands into his thick fur and scrub your fingers all over his chest and stomach until his tongue lolls out between his teeth and his tail thumps against the bed. Your caresses grow bolder, and you tease and pinch the small nipples that run in parallel lines down his belly. He starts to whine softly, and between his thighs you see his sheath twitch and swell as his cock starts to stiffen inside.

You reach your hand down between his legs to gently grope his sheath until his thick red cock slides all the way out. You pour lube into your hand and stroke it all over his throbbing shaft as he whines and bears his teeth in a needy snarl. He grips your hips with his huge paws and pulls you down against him, fitting his body around yours with your ass tucked into his lap and your back pressed against the warm fur of his chest, and he guides the head of his cock between your cheeks to enter you from behind.

He groans deeply as he eases the slippery head of his cock into your tight asshole. He wraps his long warm arms around you and clutches your body close as he rocks his hips, sliding deeper inside you inch by inch. By now your own poor cock is throbbing hard and leaking precum. He toys with your nipples as he bucks his hips but your poor aching cock gets completely neglected. His own thick cock feels incredible inside you, stretching you open and massaging your insides, and it’s hard not to cum just from that.

His thrusts become more and more forceful and urgent, hips snapping hard as he pounds your ass, and your poor cock is throbbing and bobbing up and down, aching so hard that it hurts. You feel the base of his cock start to swell, lodging him tightly inside you and stretching your asshole to the limit. He groans and grips your hips hard to hold you in place on his cock as he pumps you full of himself, urgently toying with one of your nipples as he cums, as your own cock throbs and pulses with desperate need.