Nope, Im not dead yet. I will likely take all the oneshots I have here and move them to a different story, or take the actual story and move that. Idk. Time will tell.
The thick odor of sex permeates the room, as the young wife takes deep, relaxing breaths in the warmth of the afterglow. Despite the harsh cold of the snowstorm outside, their vigorous activity had kept them warm, and even made the room itself feel quite heated as well. At this momemnt, she is absolutely, completely happy. Nothing could make her more satisfied with how her life currently is. Astrid giggles, the pleasant soreness and shaking of her her legs begging her to rest.
Her blond hair laced with sweat was splayed out around her head, a dark gold halo on the furs of their marital bed. Under the thick glaze created from many merged ropes of potent cum, one could see an angelic face of post coital bliss. One half lidded eye revealed a pupil dilated from pleasure, while the other remained closed, semen caked across its lashes. Her smile is placid and satisfied, her lips, cheeks, and chin slathered in a mixture of saliva and white cream.
Her husband's marks continue to run down her body in messy white streaks, over her flushed neck and chest, not a single inch spared by the blasts of his spunk. The gooey seed trails beyond her navel, between her trembling, spread thighs, where the prime evidence of a thorough fucking sits.
Her flower, the crown holding the gems of her pleasure center, is absolutely pulverized. The once small slit has been reamed into a wide, gaping hole from the intense pounding of a very thick cock. The labia, both inner and outer, are swollen and loose from the vast stretching, and her muscles twitch with clenching movements as her loins try to regain their original composure. The tunnel is hidden by the batter that had erupted into her at the mouth of her womb, filling her well past the point of flooding and now pouring out of her like a butter churn was tipped over. With each quivering contraction, large globs are encouraged out of her, assisted by gravity, yet still her malleable cunny still shows a full cream filling. What manages to flow out of the white lathered pink tunnel dribbles down the groove of her ass in messy rivulets, and joins the puddle of excess fluids under her crotch. What mixture of their joined fluids that isn't oozing down her smears her loins completely, painting over it and the white skin around it.
The long road of buttery splatter finally ends halfway down her inner thighs, ultimately proving that even her husband Hiccup is only human.
She feels a slight shift next to her, and the next thing she sees is her husband, on his knees between her legs, lining his fully erect third arm against her semen soaked, wrecked lips. As he slides himself back in and leans over her, she gasps, toes curling with the sensation of him beginning to work her pleasure points once more. As he slowly begins to continue pounding her like metal at his forge, she questions whether he is human after all.