Life had gone on. Nothing had really changed all that much - Ezreal still went out and saw Sona, they talked often, they had fun when they were together. They remained friends, on the surface, and it was relatively fine.
However, it was only so on the surface. The Prodigal Explorer had problems with the way things were. He had not gotten over it, but it was a secret - he knew about it, but no one else did. No one even knew that he knew about it. That was good, he reasoned, and he kept interacting and seeing Sona, as if nothing had happened.
He still felt affection for her. Maybe even loved her, but he was not so sure anymore. She had done that - and she undoubtedly still did it. There were often moments when their meetings would be cut short by her getting up and departing in a hurry, as if having forgotten that she had something important to do.
Ezreal knew what was up. He knew that she was a booty call, she knew that her phone was always by her side, always ready to display a message informing her where the 'fun' would be. The nature of these encounters of hers was particular, what with her immense fame, and so she had to hide it, as a result of which it was always some random place, some random time, whenever someone of her contacts felt like it, or something had been set up.
He did not really understand how the scheme worked, but it did. There was thought put into it, and almost everything Sona did was somehow secondary to these debaucherous deeds.
That irked him. It irked him greatly, it poisoned his mind, it made him seethe. Whenever she would abruptly end one of their meetings, just so she could go and, without a doubt, get railed by some stranger's cock, he grew overwhelmed by such furious anger that he could not even speak for around a minute.
He wanted to do something about it, but at the same time he did not want to do anything that could be perceived as troublesome or remotely toxic by Sona. Ezreal had to stay close to her, he had to stay her friend. Anything that could distance her from him was a horrible bit of news that he wanted to avoid at all costs, and so he bottled it in, waved her goodbye with a sad, forced smile, and then sat in whatever cuck chair had been chosen for him by the time of day for a bit, until he calmed down.
There was no big idea there. He was blindly hoping that she would magically fall in love with him, due to his superb treatment of her, but that was not the case. What was worse was the fact that he had no one else to go to. It would be disingenuous, yes, but even a bit of comfort would probably help him tremendously… Yet there was none of it.
Lux was no different, or, rather, had been tainted. After their break-up, and after going and getting it on with Sona's help, she was no longer even really interested in talking to Ezreal, let alone restarting their romantic relationship.
So he just wallowed in misery. Whenever he saw Sona, his heart fluttered, he felt such a draw towards her, he felt like he could do anything for her. He loved her totally and completely, and in that initial moment of every meeting, he was ecstatic to be with her. Then it all came crashing down when he remembered what he knew.
Today had been no different. She was so beautiful, so elegant and gentle, so fashionable and… And she was a slut for big, black cocks.
There was a small round table between them, a pair of coffee cups on each side - one for him, one for her. They had met up, and had gone on to have a little chat about the goings on in their lives. Sona was excited to tell him about the event that she was going to be taking part in - though those were not news for him.
She had been getting ready for it over the course of the last week or so, picking out an outfit - with his opinion also playing a part, because she had asked him if he thought she could go with the same garments she had rocked during the arcade event she had attended with him. In a moment of weakness, he had said yes, completely forgetting that seeing her in that dark-blue dress, with the rainbows and stars, would only remind him of the depraved activities she had engaged in just after that event.
Still, he did not mind. She was passionate about it, she liked going on and on about how this would be a special and unique thing. There was also the matter of her having co-stars, those being Ahri, Evelynn and Miss Sarah Fortune. As soon as he had heard those names, Ezreal had wound up finding the line-up a little odd, but had let it slide.
However, with each passing day, things seemed to be getting more and more clear. Sona had shown him the outfits the other three were going to wear, and those were some very risque garments. On top of that, she also shared that she had made a modification to her dress - a lot more cleavage.
Sure, it would be very scintillating to see her in a top that left little to the imagination, but the fact that she had made the alteration after getting a good look at the downright sultry outfits of her co-stars was very suspicious. Bad influence and all that, Ezreal thought. He had made a comment regarding the depth of the decolletage, but it was just an observation and Sona only confirmed that it was, indeed, deep, smiling playfully.
That moment had felt very serene, because she was smiling playfully at him - he almost got tricked into thinking that she was actively thinking about naughty things involving him, or teasing him as a whole - which really hurt when he realized it was not so. She was just imagining how lewd it would be, probably, and how naughty it was, and how much of a reaction it would get out of the hunks she was, without a doubt, going to show off to… Before stripping down and getting railed by them.
Their conversation was very different from the thoughts that raged within Ezreal's mind. It was quaint and friendly, and they were almost talking about nothing in particular. Sona had noted that she really liked the outfit of a lady who had passed by the window, and the Prodigal Explorer had humored her, asking her why that was.
The Maven of the Strings had gone on to explain, in relatively great detail, which took her a decent amount of time, due to the way they communicated. It all revolved around the colors, the way they combined, and the way the garments themselves amplified and even altered the woman's figure. That, and also how unusually expressive it had been.
"I wonder why we don't see outfits like that all that often," she mused, signing, and Ezreal found himself smirking. Indeed, that was a good question - why was it that people did not wear expressive, bombastic clothes that amplified them in some manner? Even he, himself, was very… Well, basic. Brown jacked, blue jeans. Only his gauntlet stood out, along with his face-paint.
"Maybe because it's four-twenty on a Wednesday," offered the blonde lad, shrugging his shoulders. Sona looked at him, a bit startled.
"Is it really twenty minutes past four?" she signed, her expression indicating a great deal of concern.
"Yes, it is… Why, what's wrong?" Ezreal carefully raised his gauntlet, showing off the display that read 16:20. Upon seeing it, Sona's face went a bit paler than it normally was, and not in a good way. She got up quickly, making the chair she had been sitting on screech as it dragged on the ground.
"I have to go, can you please foot the bill? I'll pay you back!" She signed, and did not even wait for his affirmative response. Instead, Sona grabbed her handbag and almost ran out of the coffee shop.
Ezreal remained seated, almost stunned by the turn of events. This was something really important, then, if she had to rush like that. For a moment, the cynic inside him thought that it had something to do with her debaucherous activities, but, from what he had come to expect, whenever she got a booty-call she had a bit of time to make it to wherever. That, and she also got those calls by looking at her phone.
Mysteriously, this time had not involved her mobile device at all. In fact, it was so detached from that bit of tech that she had literally left it on the table, next to her nearly finished cup. Ezreal looked at the phone for a bit, then transferred his gaze to the vacant chair, then to his own drink. Chugging what was left of the dark, slightly bitter liquid - he had been drinking his coffee far more sugar-free than before, as a means of…
Well, he did not really know. Bitter like his soul, or something like that. He was just being interesting, and to himself, really. There was no way anyone could understand that he was using his consumption as a means of making an analogue to his life. Still, this was something unusual.
Only after finishing his coffee did he realize that she was not coming back for her phone. At that point it was too late to rush after her and give it back, so he figured he would take it and return it when next they met - which was probably going to be very soon, considering their habits. Still, he made sure to check whether that was her main device - because famous folks tended to have more than one phone, especially those involved in such nearly illicit activities.
Pulling out his own phone, he dialed Sona's number and, fair enough, the one that had been left behind started ringing. Canceling the call, he picked it up, put it in his pocket, along with his own device, and paid the bill. It was nothing extraordinary, though - he always tried to get her to allow him to treat her, so paying five bucks for a cup was more than fine.
He wandered about the Institute, spending around half an hour walking through the vast spaces, before going home. Getting some fresh air and some time to think was important, even though all the thinking he did was almost always just bad stuff relating to Sona. The question always came down to how could she be doing the things that she was doing.
Getting gangbanged by complete strangers was just so outlandish, so unlike her… He tried to tell himself that it was completely reasonable, the Institute of War was the most progressive place in the world, even more progressive than Piltover, the famed City of Progress, though, in retrospect, the latter was just such in regard to its technological advancement. Social policy and such were pretty much the equivalent of an apartheid state.
Either way, the point was that Sona could do whatever she wanted to, so long as it did not physically hurt anybody. She could fuck as many dudes as she saw fit, all of them - before marriage. All of them - without even knowing their names. They were complete nobodies, not just in regards to their relationship with her, but also outside of that. They probably had no means. Gardeners, workers, cleaners, cooks - people doing something, but not folks with opportunity.
He kept comparing himself to them, subconsciously and consciously, but never managed to get it out of his head that he was a far better choice than them. They were crass, they were stupid, probably, they were not as decorated as he was, they did not have the incredible successes that he had behind himself. He was not prodigal just for the sake of being called that…
But they had big cocks. They were hung like horses, they were also big and physically strong, imposing, too. He was very fit himself, and had wound up putting more effort into maintaining his physical fitness, but it was obvious to him that he would not be able to get her. She wanted bestial sex with footlong rods of meat, while his member was nowhere near that.
It hurt, really. It was painful, it made him feel so unfathomably miserable. His entire life he had been building himself up, he was a person, he had value, and yet now it appeared to him as though Sona had been shown just how incredibly worthwhile and precious a human being Ezreal was, and had declined. As though she had seen all his positive traits, all his accomplishments, all his potential, and had decreed that it was insubstantial, that it did not matter, because he did not have a big dick.
He went back home and crashed onto his bed. Not because he was sleepy, nor because he was really exhausted, but because he felt tired in a very peculiar manner, one that he had not experienced previously. It was not exclusive to this day, but it was a recent occurrence - him becoming that tired. He did not want to get out of bed in the mornings, he wanted to curl up and lay there, under the covers, all the time.
It was barely half past five, though, so there was a lot of day left. Well, not that much of it, but it was not time to sleep. Thus, he forced himself up and went on to do something, be it tinkering with some gadgets, reading one of the newer expedition reports that had come out of the Academy, regarding Shurima, of course - anything. Though, at the same time, he did not want to do anything.
Fortunately, Sona's phone whirred to life and got his attention. The vibration indicated something - most likely a notification. Curiosity piqued, he went on to take hold of it and check the lock screen. There was a plethora of notifications, but the most recent one - the one that had gotten his attention - was from a chat group called 'hot babes'. An image had been sent by Miss 'titty' Fortune.
The image was, of course, not on display. Notifications did not do that, so it was just left up to his imagination, but that department of his brain had already been captured. What kind of nickname for a chat was Miss 'titty' Fortune? Knowing what kind of things Sona did in her free time, he started getting ideas. What if this chat group was called that because everyone in it was similarly inclined?
That much was enough to get him riled up. Without thinking about the ethics of what he was doing, he walked the phone over to his couch and put it down on his coffee table. Then, he got to work. The gauntlet was a real swiss army-knife, able to do pretty much anything, but interfacing with phones was one of the more difficult things. Still, he knew his way around hextech, so with the help of a device that was meant to interpret the signals passed by the arcane gauntlet, he easily managed to force Sona's phone to unlock itself - mimicking her fingerprint, but not by actually mimicking it, instead tricking the phone into thinking that the fingerprint had been applied.
With that done, he had just opened Pandora's box. Giddy with excitement, the Prodigal Explorer was about to dive into a tomb… The tomb of hopes and dreams, by the looks of it. All that he was interested in was the chat group, so he tapped on the bubble in the corner of the screen and the interface element ballooned to occupy almost the entirety of it.
And there it was. Right there, without any warning or playing around - Miss Fortune's massive tits, recognizable as hers because they were speckled with freckles, tanned finely and there were locks of wavy red hair flowing down her shoulders - on display. That was the picture that had been sent.
Ezreal's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he brought the phone closer to his face, unable to believe what he was seeing. THE Miss Fortune, who was a contender for the most curvaceous and desired dame in all of the Institute, who was often regarded as the most beautiful, or the hottest, woman around here, was just sending a picture of her huge milkers to a group chat. Just like that.
Oh, no, there was a caption, but Ezreal still could not believe his eyes. The way her tits looked was amazing, not only because of the angle of the photo - evidently, this was not her first rodeo - but also because of the way she was pushing them up with her other arm, the way her erect nipples indicated just how aroused she was from the whole ordeal, and… Well, the cum. They were covered in a stupid amount of cum, as if four dudes had emptied their loads all over her chest.
Just looking at the picture, Ezreal could tell her titties were phenomenal, and even though her head was not in the photo, her neck and chin were, and via visual calculus he could extrapolate that each of her breasts was easily about as big as her head. Licking his lips, he felt a bit hot, so he went on to take off his jacket, without taking his eyes off the screen.
This was so brazen, so crass, so lewd - all these things and more, yet the Prodigal Explorer could not stop himself from looking. He knew that Miss Fortune was hot, but that only made her hotter, in a sense, because her tits were actively perfect. The ratio of breast to areola to nipple, the length of her nubs, the way they looked - it was all absolutely picturesque.
Well, maybe if one did not like freckles, she would be less appealing than she was, but Ezreal felt as though even if that was the case, still her chest would be a treasure. Why was he thinking those things, though? He licked his lips again, then pursed them and took his attention elsewhere. The caption read 'skin care~ but for real, this guy blasted a huge load! His cock was HUGE!'
Ezreal felt himself furrowing his brows. He had been correct in his assumption. Indeed, this chat group was for sluts who liked messing around, but the caption bothered him in more ways than one. It was not a group of guys, it was one person. And the way there was emphasis on the size of his member… It left a sour taste in his mouth.
There were a pair of reactions - both of them hearts - one was purple, the other was black. The former was delivered by Evelynn, the latter by Ahri. Their nicknames were similarly lascivious - 'Eve of cock' and 'Cumslut Ahri'
Sona was the fourth member of this chat group, but she had not yet reacted to the message - probably because she was busy with whatever it was she had run off to do. Either way, Ezreal was captivated, even if he had this bad feeling about the whole ordeal. These four women appeared to be exceptionally sultry in their communication, and were very open about how hyper-sexual they were in their private lives. That was… He told himself that was fine, considering three out of the four members, but he was still unable to accept that Sona was among them.
The appearance that the Maven of the Strings maintained, the way she behaved in public, her engagement with high art - all that made her seem as though she was a refined lady. It made no sense for her to be like Miss Fortune, Evelynn and Ahri, who were, simply put, the sluts. They gave off that vibe. Sona was… She was innocent, she was pure, she was wonderful in every regard.
His stomach bunched up as he shook his head, for he knew that was not the case. She was as much a slut for big, black cock as either of those three. He had seen it first hand, and her presence in this chat group all but confirmed it.
Ezreal's curiosity, however, was still totally engaged. Thus, he could not simply stop himself and went on to look, scrolling up. He saw so much, and it was all so unfathomably lecherous and compromising.
It was not just Miss Fortune who was open about showing off her exploits. Evelynn, Ahri and Sona, too, were very forward with how big a cock they had come across, or how massive a cumshot had been delivered their way. There were selfies with one of the women framed by a number of dicks. The record seemed to be held by Evelynn, who had posed with seven members around her face, taking on the appearance of a fucked up, lewd halo of sorts.
But that was not all of it. Ezreal got to see their tits and nipples, bare and slathered with cum, their pussies, oozing jizz, their mouths full of cock, and the more he looked, the hornier he got. It was almost painful, looking at all of this, at the immense amounts of pleasure that the four apparently derived from being with these monstrously endowed men, and knowing that they would never look at him that way.
Still, his erection was raging, and he could not stop himself from sliding his wiener from his pants and engaging in some masturbation. He kept scrolling, though, and found more and more things to gawk at.
There was a video of a horse - just that, a horse - though it was a male, uncut, and its balls were sagging between its legs. The video showed off the beast getting an erection - which was quite something - and then, as if to top it off, it featured Ahri turning the camera around, blushing and having the most sultry expression on her face that Ezreal had ever seen. There was a lengthy discussion about how much all four of them wanted to get railed by that horsecock, how insanely good it would feel, and so on.
The Prodigal Explorer was astounded at the brazen willingness to totally ignore any line. It was one thing to fuck around with random strangers - it was almost understandable in his eyes, relatively permissible, too, but wanting to copulate with a horse was… That was something else.
That was not all there was to be found in that group chat, no, of course not. There were a few pictures that got his attention, in part due to the fact that they featured obscenely large cocks, in part because the bodies those members were attached to seemed odd, and the fact that the four were talking about a thing called a 'shota' in relation to those photos. The one that he lingered on was of Sona, a selfie, with her holding the phone with one hand, while the other was grasping at a cock thicker than her ankle, which was slapped over her glazed, naked bosom.
She had this incredibly pleased expression, sticking her tongue out at the camera and tilting her head to the side, as if provoking the intended audience - which was composed of the other three sluts in the chat group. Her partner for this shoot was the suspicious one here, though. An exceedingly smooth, flat belly - not a single strand of hair on it or his cock. The quality of the picture was quite high, so it was astounding that there was no sign of any such things. Then, there was the fact that some of the person's arm was also in the shot, and it appeared far too thin, and short, for it to be a normal adult's size.
Deciding that it was a yordle, for the alternative was far more unnerving, Ezreal passed by it. Though, the sight of Sona's breasts, covered in thick, gooey cum, serving as a pillow for a cock that was longer than her forearm and thicker than her wrist by a decent margin… It was something, allright.
The Prodigal Explorer wound up sputtering his load not long after discovering said photo. He was somewhat filled with hope that, considering how excited the pictures had made him, his ejaculation would be more plentiful, but instead it was the same old bit of drizzle. Fetching a napkin and cleaning it off, he found himself taken by the phenomenon of post-nut clarity, and began regretting what he had done.
What point was there in looking through Sona's phone? Now, he had only made himself more miserable, for he knew that this was not a thing she did for herself, no, it was some kind of social thing that she shared with others. Still, he kept browsing, looking through the photos and finding them very alluring, even though his headspace had shifted a bit.
He got to saving them on the device, planning on sending them to himself and then destroying the proof, when the chat exploded with activity. Sona was the one who started it, and she was rapidly sending message after message. She had lost her phone - that much he knew, but it was a while before she had noticed that it had happened. Then, there was a number of complaints from her, but also from the others - in particular Evelynn, who expressed great disappointment that Sona had lost the option to take pictures.
The Maven of the Strings agreed whole-heartedly, while Miss Fortune teased her for losing her device. Sona went on to complain about how, because of her missing phone, she could not snap a photo of the three massive cocks she had just had some fun with. Ezreal's stomach turned at that, because it implied that she had rushed off to get fucked, rather than do something else.
Then, he looked at the time and realized that almost three hours had passed since then, and it could be argued that she did some business, some actual work, and then went to have some fun with a bunch of hung hunks. Why was he trying to argue in her favor, to figure out a way to make her appear less guilty than she already was?
He shook his head and sighed, reading through the messages. They quickly went off topic, derailing into a chat about the event being held tomorrow, and Ezreal lost interest. Seeing as it was time for dinner, and then probably bed, he got to doing that.
When his meal was done - some microwaved, instant garbage, since he was not feeling it - he noticed his own phone had its notification light informing him that something had happened. Checking it out, he was greeted by Sona's message, asking if he happened to know where her phone was, because she had lost it.
He banged up a quick message, telling her that he does know, since she left it at the table in the café. On top of that, he also added a query regarding when would be a good time to give it to her, since she was, supposedly, busy with the event. She waved that off by telling him tomorrow would be a great time, and that he should just drop by during the event and give her the phone.
With that, they came to an agreement, and his phone died down, while her own device kept flickering to life with more messages. Pursing his lips, feeling his dissatisfaction growing, Ezreal ate his instant meal. Well, at least he would do a good deed tomorrow, right?
The day came and he woke up, feeling like shit. He spent an hour in bed, struggling with mustering up the desire to get out of it. Then, he took Sona's phone again and went through the group chat once more, skipping over the text and just looking at the pictures. He beat his meat, produced yet another pathetic cumshot, cleaned himself up and actually got up. The event was starting an hour before noon, so he did not really have to hurry, but it would be better if he got there before the crazy stuff had gotten to going down.
Brushing his teeth, styling his hair, triangles on his face - fortunately, that was so ingrained in his daily routine that even feeling as down as he was feeling right now was not enough to prevent him from doing it. Thus, he at least appeared presentable. Then, Sona's phone flickered to life once more, a new message.
Ezreal took a look, and it was a photo - Miss Fortune, this time fully clothed, though showing off a tremendous amount of skin, was posing with a colossal black cock. It was so big that he felt as though it could easily be compared to her neck… Well, maybe an inch thinner than it, but still, the dimensions were absolutely stupendous. Not only that, but it was long as hell, probably reaching down to its owner's knee, maybe even beyond that.
The chat group, naturally, exploded with excitement, not just because of the selfie, but because of the message accompanying it. Miss Fortune was asking if she could get a backstage pass - not for herself, naturally, but Ezreal got the idea that was unfolding. This fellow was going to get very lucky with one of the four, maybe whoever responded first.
That happened to be Sona. She informed Miss Fortune to just tell the guy about the knock, while simultaneously calling dibs. Ezreal suppressed the urge to groan - no, he felt the urge coming over him, but he simply felt too drained to actually let out any kind of sound. Thus, he just accepted it, though he got quite curious… And also felt a tinge of anger.
First, he looked through the messages in the chat for any containing the knock. Sure enough, there was one - pinned, even - that did not just mention it, it explained how it worked. It was just a special way to knock that would let the quartet know that either dick or one of them was looking to get in.
They had that all planned out. That got him even more furious. Not only that, but there was also the fact that Sona had an engagement with him today - she had to get her phone back from him. What, she was now going to get fucked by that humongous cock and stand him up? When he was doing her a favor?
Ezreal's indifference was, quite rapidly, replaced by displeasure, spiced up by a certain amount of anger. No, not a certain amount - it was a large quantity of fury. Indignation, justified at that. Fuming, he started brewing plans. Maybe she was just a nasty bitch, a horny slut, and that nice demeanor and erudite appearance was all just a front she was putting on so she could get more cock and feel good about herself?
He got more than just a bit upset, and as he made his way towards the venue, he was unable to think about anything other than that. It was so insulting to him, somehow, so demeaning that it was almost painful. As if his entire being, all he was, was reduced to just how big his member was. There was nothing important about his aside from that, and Sona was showing it off, making it obvious that his personality meant nothing, that any other physical traits he might have had were beyond worthless.
It was all just how big his pecker was, a thing that he could not control. He could go and work out like a maniac, he could become a humongous beefcake, but did that mean his dick would get bigger? No. This was some weird, fucked up type of measuring of one's worth, Ezreal thought to himself, and got more and more angry with the way he was being treated. No alternatives occurred to him, just this conclusion that there was some irredeemable badness at the root of it all.
He made it to the venue, noting that people had already piled on and were happily engaging with the event. It was roughly arcade related, so he could have brought his own costume, but he was definitely way beyond that now. Ezreal was here with a purpose, and onward he went, feeling vindictive, faultily so.
The event was laid out on a large venue, outdoors, thanks to the great weather they were having today. All kinds of booths were strewn about one of the many parks of the Institute, with actual, high quality portable toilets being brought over and in use. That was, frankly, the most important part of any event longer than three hours - how good the toilets were, because one would need to visit them at one point or another.
Aside from that, there were also many shaded areas, allowing for some respite from the sun's rays, which were shaping up to be almost dangerous today. Not a single cloud in the sky, twelve uninterrupted hours of sunshine, and it was going to get even warmer, so the chances of sunstroke were not limited. Ezreal wore his jacket out of principle, and because he had grown used to boiling alive in his clothes - after all, it was a fashion statement that was in effect even in the Shuriman deserts - due to which he was unconcerned that he would suffer any problems related to the big ball of fire in the sky.
Some people recognized him and asked for photos, and he obliged, but the more it happened, the more agitated he grew. He was here with a purpose, not because he wanted to be - regardless of the fact that, yesterday, prior to discovering that chat group, he was going to come and be excited about the event. Now, every little delay bothered him.
As he forced a smile on his face, he almost felt a smidge of pleasure about himself. See, these people saw something valuable in him. He had good qualities, many of them, so why did Sona not take note of them? Why was she not interested?
With these storm clouds over his head, he got more and more grumpy, which ultimately led to fewer and fewer people approaching him for a photo as he walked about and looked for the stage. It was one of the few actual buildings in the venue, featuring a number of entrances and fire escapes, and having at least two floors.
The show that was going to be put on was one that relied on more than just sound and the performers - the four sluts, Ezreal thought - so it was going to be held indoors. Lights, a screen, some other stuff like that, audience interaction… That sort of thing. He did not know all the details, because Sona had been a bit sparse, telling him that it would be best if he saw it for himself, unspoiled.
Well, he was not sure he was going to do that. His mood, sour as it was, had him walk up to the building and give it a good look. He even walked around it once, scoping it out, thinking. The Prodigal Explorer had done a lot of sneaking in his life, not a small part of it relating to getting in and out of guarded places. And this was quite reminiscent of an old Shuriman tomb - he just had to get in without being noticed.
Now, getting noticed would not be the end of the world - he had the back-up plan, he was Ezreal, a Champion, and he also had a reason to be here, returning Sona's phone - but he would have rather avoided it. He wanted to… He did not know what he wanted to do, but there was something about it that had to remain unknown. So, he got close to a wall, made sure no one was looking, and pop! - he was in. The corridors were bland and uninspired, featuring that unfathomably ugly grey mat on the floor and white paint on the walls. Everything here was meant to be unseen and unknown to the audience, it was incredibly unimportant and served a means to an end. No decorations, no nothing, only signs directing towards the nearest possible escape, neon lamps spilling into the passages and air vent exits rumbling above.
Ezreal made his way through, quite calmly, feeling as though he was in his element - and, in truth, he was. He had to find the room that Sona was in, and in which she was expecting her guest. The amount of time that had passed since she had called dibs on the dude, and now, was less than fifteen minutes, as the Prodigal Explorer's place was close to the center of everything in the Institute, but he was getting worried that he would miss out.
Miss out? He furrowed his brows at that thought, trying to banish it, but he could not. Indeed, what was he going to do? Was he going to confront her, or was he going to… Was he just going to peep again, look at her getting railed by that humongous cock and wallow in sorrow that it was not him?
Ezreal had to juke out of the way of a guard patrol. Well, maybe it was not a guard, and maybe it was not a patrol at all, but to him it was like that. He felt that what he was doing was wrong, and even if it was not perceived as wrong - him being here - it still made him unwilling to run into anyone. Finally, he came upon the door in question.
He did not actually come upon it, he stood by the corner of a junction and took a gander at what was down the corridor, when he saw the room with a removable sign reading 'Sona Buvelle'. There was a goon absentmindedly brainwashing himself on his phone, seated in a chair that was in the middle of the corridor, leaned against the wall. He was so uninterested in anything that Ezreal was certain he could just walk past him and make his way into Sona's room, if that was what he wanted.
It was not, though, right? But if he wanted to see… Then he had to be close enough to do so. His eyes started scanning the corridor for options, and he remembered the rumbling air vents. The openings had been wide enough to appear capable of fitting more than one person with his dimensions… What if he snuck into one of them?
Indeed, there had been similar situations. And he was not at risk of anything, because he could always shift through, get out of there without being noticed. So, he waltzed on to one of the vents - well, beneath it - and concluded that it would be nearly impossible to get into it as it was now. It was high up on the wall, it had its grate on it, and for someone unable to teleport, this would have been the end of the road.
Fortunately, Ezreal knew how to Arcane Shift, and so without even doing anything too physically taxing, he found himself in the air vent. Now, he had to make his way through it, displeased by the fact that it was… Well, not very clean. Then again, the difficulty of accessing them meant they were difficult to maintain. Imagining himself crawling through half-collapsed tunnels in an ancient ruin, he made it a lot easier for himself - that and knowing what awaited him.
It did not even take a lot of wriggling, though. He found himself at a vent grate, beneath him, which provided an impressively good view of the chamber beneath - Sona's backstage room. It was not a small space, but also not exceedingly large. There was a sofa in one corner, with a short coffee table in front of it. Along the same wall, though on the other corner, was a make-up booth, coupled with a large mirror and some very professional, high quality lights.
The etwahl was right there, as if waiting to be used, and then there was Sona. She was sitting on the chair in front of the make-up booth, looking at herself in the mirror, holding onto a pen that was meant to do something in relation with her eyes. Ezreal could not recognize what the role of said tool was, but that did not matter all that much. From his vantage point, he could clearly see… Well, her cleavage, mostly.
It was something else entirely. The fact that he was not that tall, and that Sona floated a bit off the ground, almost always made it so he did not have the option to naughtily, lecherously look at her breasts. Sure, when they were seated, he could sneak glances, but he had not done that purposely, safe for the last few instances. He could not stop himself from looking at her as more sexual than she had been before he had been exposed to her secret.
Then again, she was more sexual. Her outfit was the exact same as last time, but it had a far deeper decolletage. It was so deep, in fact, that he was certain that any more intense movement had the potential to make her humongous titties pop out of her garments. On top of that, looking down at her, almost from a bird's eye view, showed off another dimension, another angle to just how big her breasts were. It was as though she had two bald heads on her chest… That thought was weird, but at the same time it was exactly what it was. Each boob being a bit bigger than her own head was still mind-blowing for the Prodigal Explorer.
It was also very bothersome, because he felt an obscene attraction towards her because of them. He was so terribly envious of those men who could have her, even if for only one evening…
A knock on the door. A particular knock on the door. Sona almost jumped out her seat, her chest wobbling intensely as she grinned excitedly - and also exceedingly lecherously - before making her way over to the door. Ezreal gathered that this was her guest, and felt his teeth gritting as the woman he still loved so dearly strutted towards the entrance. The way she moved her body, swaying her rear, pushing her chest out and purposefully stepping in a way that made them jiggle…
She put a hand on the handle, then, with the other, she turned the lock and opened.
"Hello," said a deep, rumbling voice from beyond the door. Sona's face was not visible from this angle, but she fully pulled the door open and made a few steps back, putting a hand under her chest and letting the newcomer enter. He did, and a tall, muscular man with dark skin made himself apparent to Ezreal.
It was almost offensive, just how physical this individual was. He wore a snazzy, maroon shirt which was struggling to contain his chest and shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up, reveal powerful, exceedingly vascular forearms and big, strong hands. He was very smartly dressed, with a formfitting pair of black pantaloons and elegant shoes that made him almost appear out of place here. Though, maybe that was part of why he had made it through so easily?
His outfit challenged Ezreal. It was as if, without words, this man was showing off just how much more masculine and desirable he was. He had more style than the blonde lad in the vents, he had physical power, he had confidence, he had a colossal bulge straining against his left pant leg…
The man closed the door behind him, glanced at Sona, hovering his hand over the lock. She nodded, and Ezreal saw her tongue running over her lips. The bull who had entered locked the door, and made a few steps towards Sona. He knew what he was here for, she knew what he was here for - there was no need for verbal communication in the slightest.
Who moved first, Ezreal could not tell. However, they were both quick and needy, like rabid dogs latching onto one another's bodies. The man grasped Sona's breasts roughly, pushing them up against her body, distending their form and making them appear even more appealing. They were so soft, so malleable, and at the same time so heavy, as evidenced by the fact that his muscles flexed.
Sona, who was probably faster than him and had actually moved first, wrapped her fingers around the bulge in the smartly dressed man's pantaloons. Both her hands grasped his humongous package, digging into the flesh. She was looking down, staring at the faintly obscured meat rod. Ezreal imagined her eyes wide with wonder, her mouth filling up with saliva, and intense desire burning her body.
It was hot. The way they entwined their bodies, they held onto one another, the fact that they moved as if they had done this a hundred times. Their faces met and a long, sensual kiss was exchanged between them, while both continued groping one another. One of his hands reached behind her and cupped her large rear.
Ezreal felt saliva pooling in his mouth as he watched Sona and the black man separate. A string of spittle connected their mouths for an instant, before tearing and splashing onto the woman's chin. The kiss had been so intense, it was discernible from the act itself, but the expression on Sona's face was so astoundingly needy that it appeared as though they had just literally had a bit of sex.
He knew that foreplay was important, that it got people going, but this was something else. Was it the stud's smell? Was it the fact that they were about to so brazenly do it in this place, where they were not supposed to be doing that sort of thing, shortly before Sona's public appearance? The shattering of the taboo was probably very enticing, but Ezreal simply could not wrap his head around the thing that made that look appear in the Maven's eyes. Such lust could hardly be described, let alone comprehended.
Ezreal would have expected that out of Evelynn, but no, it was Sona - the one who appeared most innocent out of the quartet that made up the group chat. She raised her hands and took hold of the stud's arms, making him let go of her. It was obvious that he would have rather kept enjoying the voluminous wonders of her body, but he was aware he was a guest, so he did as she wanted.
Without missing a beat, Sona kept her palms up against his body, sliding them down along his chest, then abdomen, while simultaneously lowering herself down into a squat, coming to a stop when her head was level with his crotch, with that humongous bulge in his pants. She demonstratively licked her lips, and if she could, she would have definitely moaned. Her legs were spread so wide, if she was not wearing a dress, her womanhood would have been on display, stretched, almost open from just that.
No, Ezreal was just imagining things, but it was undoubtable that she was exceedingly excited. Her hands skillfully moved, undoing the latch on the man's belt and freeing his pantaloons for removal. The way his member strained against the fabric made it obvious that with or without the belt, they were not going to slide down by themselves… But that was hot in and of itself.
Gingerly, as if overwhelmed by trepidation, Sona undid the button and pulled down his zipper. She might have seen something Ezreal did not, because she licked her lips again. She then snuck her fingers between the rim of the pants and his pelvis, and then slowly, slowly started pulling them down, in a fashion that made it seem as though thr man's humongous member was wriggling out of them.
The trunk was awe-inspiring, even when it was just curving out of his pants, still held at bay by the garments. The veins were so thick, so pronounced, and it was not even totally erect… Then it bounced out, when his pants reached his knees. It bonbed upwards, pushing against Sona's breasts, unable to get past her massive chest. The pressure must have been very noticeable, because the thing was still straining, even though it was prodding at her soft bosom, an inch away from sliding in between those sublime melons.
Sona's hands slid down the man's pelvis and grasped the base of his fat cock, with both of them being necessary for her to actually encompass the girth. She shifted slightly to the side and wiggled the massive dong so that it could get unstuck from the clothed underside of her breasts…
And there it was. Half hard, almost ready to go right then and there, it was stupendous. Even though there was at least a foot between Sona and the stud, his cock was so long that its tip went past the woman's shoulders. If it were dribbling pre-cum, the droplets would have been dropping on her back.
Ezreal could not tear his eyes away from the sight that was unfolding before him. Sona pulled back, hands holding onto the dick like support beams of a bridge, and the smile on her face promised sweet things.
She leaned in, kissing the tip. The bulbous thing was clearly not at full capacity, yet it already looked as though it was bigger than an apricot. Probably about as tasty as one, if not more, in the eyes of the Maven. The kiss grew into a sloppy sampling, with her parting her lips and opening her mouth, getting as much of his dickhead in as she could. Her tongue swirled about inside her oral cavity, caressing his glans, prodding at his urethra.
She pulled back, gasping for air, having held her breath as she did this. She was so enamored with this humongous cock, with its texture, with the smell, with everything about it, that she was forgetting about the world around herself. Her cunt was probably leaking like a broken faucet.
Sona kissed his member again and again, licked it all over, swirling her tongue over and around the entirety of it. The underside of the tip, the bit underneath it where the foreskin coalesced into a thread-esque element, then the shaft itself. She could not stop slobbering all over it, as if preparing his cock for herself, for what was to come. The stud was respectfully enjoying it, surprising Ezreal with just how stoic he was, in regards to noises. He has this pleased smile on his face, looking down at the Maven drooling over his cock, but he had neither said anything not had he done anything. No actions that would be expected, such as putting a hand on her head or something along those lines.
He was just enjoying her adoration of his member. If Ezreal had a tool that large, he, too, would have probably derived such joy in that esthetic a manner. But he did not.
Even so, he was exceedingly erect. He felt his pecker pressing against his pants, straining against them. In truth, there was probably a faintly discernible bulge, and he was only feeling things. But he was horny, exceptionally so, for the sight was only going to get lewder.
Over the course of Sona's ministrations, the stud's own cock grew erect. It was so heavy and large that it could not do this standing at attention that would have been expected, but it still curved its tip upwards and adopted a deathly dangerous bend at around its midpoint. It looked very hard, and with the sheen added by the saliva Sona had applied, it was like something out of a porno.
No, it was more than that. It was like the mental image of a big black cock that Ezreal got whenever he thought of one. The platonic ideal. There was something in him that came to understand. It made sense that Sona would be so enchanted by this thing. It was… Well, it was perfect for fucking.
The fact that she had stopped holding it with both hands and had allowed one of her limbs to slide down her own frame, sinking beneath her bosom and making its way through her dress, had evaded him. Sona was stroking herself, enjoying this as much as she could.
Then, she stopped, pulling back and standing. Using her body to do most of the work, she pushed herself up against him, forcing his cock to stand at attention, sandwiched between his chest and her massive, heavy tits.
Sona made a step rearwards, a sudden one, and allowed his member to flop down. A few droplets of saliva splattered on the floor… and there seemed to be a sticky dollop of goodness resting at the tip of his member. She walked backwards, hands reaching up for her breasts, and in a salacious manner she pushed them together, as if indicating what awaited the trouser snake.
The black man smirked and followed as she made her way to the sofa, sitting down on it and beckoning him with her hand movements. He walked up to her, his knees rubbing up against the edge of the sofa, legs framed by her own, luridly parted.
She guided his cock to rest between her breasts, the meaty beast producing a lewd smack as it landed. Swiftly, as if unable to wait anymore, she pulled the straps of her top off, sliding her arms out of it and then grasping at the rim that held her tits loosely obscured. Ezreal, waiting with a bated breath, watched.
Sona first pushed her breasts together with her arms, her hands firmly holding the rims in place. Her cleavage ballooned up, as if her tits had just grown, the soft flesh enveloping the sides of the big black cock resting on them. Then, she leaned backwards, extending her arms, again making a play of that variety.
Finally, she pulled her hands to the sides, revealing her humongous breasts in their fullest glory. Wonderful, pink nipples that looked as though they were meant to be leaking milk, puffy areolas and a softness that was so clearly discernible from just a look that it compelled any observer to act… Her breasts were absolutely perfect, each spilling out of her hands as she futilely tried to scoop them up and bring them up to the stud's tool.
Still, she was a bit of a master. A size queen, experienced in pleasuring cocks as long and thick as her forearm, and so she slid the monstrously huge schlong in between her flesh pillows and got to work. Her back and shoulders, along with her arms, moved so as to bring friction to the stud's member. She was pushing her tits from the sides with her forearms, her hands not touching anything, simply bent rearwards at the wrists, fingers curled so that their tips would linger over the pillows on her palms, at the base of the corresponding digit.
There was almost a coquettish element to the whole presentation, especially coupled with how expressive her eyes were as she alternated between looking at the tip of his black cock and his face, seeking the expression of satisfaction. And indeed, there was a great deal of pleasure that the man was deriving from this, because he could barely hold himself back.
Ezreal's hand had started rubbing the bulge in his pants, almost without him noticing, and he felt sickened by the act, but at the same time it was only natural. It was proper for him to be so aroused by the display, as two specimens, if his professional bent could be allowed to have a say, went at it. And those were, indeed, ideal specimens - especially in Sona's case. The stud - sure, physically, he was there, but Ezreal could not allow himself to not consider himself superior in regards to the mind.
He had to be better at something than this fellow, but, even so, it did not matter. After all, did Sona care about the ways in which Ezreal was superior? No. She did not care about the grandeur of his superiority either - even though it was like comparing an elephant to a fly, she clearly sought something else.
Her hands reached out and took hold of the stud's wrists, pulling them towards her breasts and allowing him to hold them. Large, meaty fingers, with thumbs thicker than Ezreal's pecker, sank into Sona's bountiful tit flesh. She relaxed, changing the way she held her chest, this time opting for her arms, while her forearms slid down and her hands came together in her lap… Or, perhaps, they were doing something else, rather than just holding one another.
Regardless, the bull before her started going. At first, he was slow and careful, testing the waters. Gentle thrusts, long and complete. The smile on her face, and the little kiss she bestowed upon his bulging tip, were more than enough indication that he could go harder.
And so he did, picking up the pace. Such a violent in appearance act, coupled with such a blemishless, pure in appearance participant, made Ezreal's heart shrink. Even now, even after all the proof he had seen, he just could not stop himself from being enamoured with an idea of Sona, rather than Sona herself - because, clearly, she was getting herself railed by black cock, and was enjoying it.
The Prodigal Explorer undid the button holding his pants together, then his zipper, and slid them down. Hand on his own little pleasure-lever, he started jerking off, mind conflicted. She was so beautiful, and the deed was so incredibly erotic and hot, the way she was biting her lip, the way her cheeks were blushing faintly, the look in her eyes, the stupendous size of her breasts - all of that made him go crazy with desire.
Then, there was the hulking man over her, his rough, nasty hands attempting to grab as much of her tits as possible, his massive cock sliding in and out, his tumescent flower-bulb-esque tip sputtering sticky pre-cum, soiling the sublime skin of the Maven of Strings… It was disgusting, repulsive. Like an animal, the black man railed her tits, and there was even a sound that accompanied it. A plap, every thrust. Those were his massive, saggy testicles hitting the underside of Sona's boobs, probably.
And even though it was so nasty, so repulsive, Ezreal could not take his eyes away from it. It was so hot, so exceedingly arousing. His member was harder than it had ever been before, perhaps excluding the other time he had watched her have sex. Now, however, there was more to it.
The stud took a step back, letting go of Sona's fat milkers. They flopped down, reaching well past the point where her navel was supposed to be, but that appeared to be totally unimportant for either of them. His cock was rock hard, throbbing threateningly, pointing up, ready for action. Sona, herself, seemed to also be more than willing to go further, and so they did.
She stood up, pushing herself against the black man's frame, and they exchanged another kiss. Ezreal was violently jerking his pecker, unable to stop, as Sona and her stud spun around. The Maven of Strings broke the kiss off, pushing him onto the sofa. Then, she climbed onto the piece of furniture, straddling the man and taking hold of his gargantuan cock with one hand, while, with the other, she moved her dress to the side, revealing her sodden pussy.
Ezreal's tugs became even more frenzied as he watched the woman he loved, still, even after she had so horribly broken his heart, though without her knowledge,mounted the beast. He could not clearly see it - vantage point at all that - but he could discern it in her eyes, in the way her body trembled, in the shit eating grin of the face of the black man penetrating her.
Sona put a hand on her stomach as she lowered herself onto his humongous cock, then her entire frame trembled and she leaned back. Palms coming to rest on the stud's knees, breasts spilling over the sides of her torso, with the culmination of the whole ordeal being the bulge in her abdomen.
Its very appearance threw Ezreal over the edge, and his little pecker exploded. The ejaculation felt intense, his nuts shuddered, and he wound up out of breath, but the result of his effort was just a splotch on the vent beneath him, nowhere near enough to fill out even a teaspoon.
He did not feel good about it, unlike the pair underneath. They were going at it hard, the man holding Sona by the waist and railing her, distending her stomach and making her humongous tits flap about. Ezreal wanted to watch, but at the same time he was disgusted by both them and himself.
He procured a napkin from his pocket and scooped up the result of his peeping activities. It was a shame that he wanted no sign of, but the satisfaction he had hoped to achieve eluded him. Then, he remembered something. As if driven by his anger, the fact that Miss Fortune had stated she would be joining Sona and the stud at a later point in time resurfaced in Ezreal's mind.
A wicked plan appeared there, and he scurried to bring it to fruition. Shifting through the building and making his way outside as quickly as possible, unable to stop thinking about Sona getting her rocks off to that fat, monstrous cock, he started almost running around the venue. Fortunately, he managed to keep himself composed enough to not actually do that, instead only moving about with a slight spring in his step.
There - he found his target. A journalist, evidenced by the badge she wore about her neck, and her companion with a camera. He walked up to them and they were very happy to be seeing him.
"Off the record," he said, and gave them a conspiratorial look. The journalist - a lady - looked at her buddy and nodded, and the two of them leaned in to hear what Ezreal had to say.
Then, they wound up exceedingly overjoyed, for he simply told them how to get a backstage interview with one of the performers today and that, if they hurried, they would have it be exclusive, before the performance itself.
The girl thanked him profusely, as did the cameraman, and the pair scurried off towards the building, intent on getting the juiciest bit of news they could. Ezreal rubbed his hands together, feeling as though this was a job well done. Then, it occurred to him that he did not need to simply imagine the expression on Sona's face as she was caught in the act. He could go and see it himself…
His feet carried him back towards the building wherein Sona was doing these horrible things with that black man. He did not run, but he did hurry. He had to get through to the vents before the journalist could get to the door, otherwise he would miss the show. Arcane shift after arcane shift, he made his way back to his spot - and just in time for the finish.
The stud was standing over Sona, who was kneeling on the floor. She was pushing her sloshy tits up, as if presenting them in lieu of a stage upon which the black man's cock could shine. He was violently jerking himself off, beads of pre-cum already rolling down the pearly skin of the Maven's chest. He was so close to cumming, Ezreal could tell, because his balls were clenching up, his teeth were grit, he was almost doubled over in exertion.
Sona's mouth, open and waiting expectantly, was rewarded for her patience. The man threw his head back and groaned blissfully as his urethra gaped, blasting a rope of cum so thick and powerful that it splashed against the Maven of the Strings' face, splattering all over. The beam of jazz was so thick it was easily greater in geith than Ezreal's pinky, and it was not a one off occurrence.
The black man's balls relaxed for an instant, then they clenched up again. The intense pressure was discernible on his cock, as the veins popped, the thing was so swollen and bent by the pressure it looked like a scimitar. Another blast of cum, splashing all over Sona's breasts, then another.
The enjoyment both of them were deriving from this was easily discernible, what with the man's groans and the woman's devilish smile. She was so overwhelmingly pleased with the results of her labor and the virility of the stud before her that she did not even wait for him to be finished. There was a stupendous amount of cum on her tits, but even then it had not been enough to glaze them properly - after all, she had the biggest breasts in the Institute of War - yet she wanted more, so she leaned in and started sucking on his cock, slobbering over his throbbing tip.
Ezreal was gritting his teeth, clenching his fist angrily, when, finally, the knock on the door came. Suddenly, his frustrations left his body like an evil spirit exorcised - he opened his eyes wide and leaned up to the grate, as close as possible.
Sona, hearing the knock, and still intoxicated by the pleasure of being showered in thick, smelly cum, got up, nodding to the black man whose nut was all over her, and by doing so directing him to head for the sofa, while she, herself, made her way towards the door. It was obvious she probably wanted to show off to Miss Fortune, whom she assumed was the one knocking, so she did not even bother to pull her top on.
Then, she unlocked the door and opened it.
"Miss Sona, can we–" the words coming out of the journalist's mouth were interrupted by the sheer shock that washed over her. Ezreal cursed his luck that his vantage point did not allow him to see Sona's expression, but the shudder that went through her body would have to do.
The Maven of the Strings squirmed, rushing to obscure her breasts with her hands, but it was only too little, as her delicate limbs could not hope to cover her humongous, obscene milk jugs, it was also too late, as the journalist and the cameraman has seen and, hopefully, even recorded a bit of footage.
"Miss Sona, my– our apologies, i– er, we hope we aren't intruding on anything!" Stammered the journalist, clearly both embarrassed at the unfortunate situation she had found the woman in, but also ecstatic with the opportunity to have that juicy a bit of gossip in her hands.
Ezreal was through the roof with joy. He was almost ready to start shouting, to goad the journalist on. She had to press Sona on this, to ask her about this, to inquire about the situation. It would make her so uncomfortable and so ashamed, as she had to be, that it would put her in her place. Ezreal's feevor for punishment, at this moment, was so overwhelming that he was blind to everything but Sona's unfortunate situation and her misfortune.
Some kind of sick fiend had awakened within him, and he was taking such pleasure out of seeing Sona get what was 'coming for her', what with the way she acted, the way she dressed, the way she had wronged him - she deserved it. She was a colossal slut, the sultriest whore he knew, and she liked showing off - so it was about time it was showed off to the whole world, rather than just her slut friends and the hung manwhores they employed.
She deserves it! He was violently excited, and if he could get a handle on himself, he would notice he was both shaking and sprinting a boner, but his frenzied enjoyment of her torment was blinding him to everything.
"Do we have a problem?" a voice - a different one, one that he faintly recognized, came from outside the room.
"Huh?" muttered the journalist, turning around. "Oh, Miss Fortune?!"
Ezreal's mood soured, for he realized this would be the height of it. Now that someone who could talk with no issue was here, it was likely that the situation would be smoothed over.
"Is the camera rolling?" Sarah Fortune asked, and there was a warning in her voice.
"Err… Not anymore?" the operator said, probably forcing on a smile.
"We'll have a chat now," the redhead informed and that was the end of it.
Everything turned out fine for the quartet of sluts, and for the journalists too. Sarah Fortune convinced them to forget what they had seen, and has the cameraman delete the content he has of Sona in the compromising position. In return, that particular journalist and cameraman combo would have exclusive press access for all future events featuring Sona and Miss Fortune, so that they could get the best coverage and so on - like compensation for the scoop that had been lost.
What was worse was that, after sending the journalist and cameraman on their way, Sona and Sarah reconciled, with the latter helping calm the former down, and then they went on to fuck the stud in a mind-blowing threesome. They had gotten off scot-free.
Ezreal stuck around and watched, his anger burning inside of him, but failing to bubble over. It probably never would. He was going to maintain his friendly relationship with Sona… Quietly.