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Drithmor. A remote, frozen place at Aetheril’s northern edge, all but forgotten by Eralis and by the rest of the world. Amongst the trees, the cliffsides, the snow, and the hoary shores of the Sea of Shattered Stars, Drithmor consisted of a handful of villages loosely scattered around the cold landscape, many of them nameless, or their names forgotten. All that made Drithmor a place of any concern was its proximity to the Abyssal Rend to the south, a massive, yawning gorge into which little went, and from which nothing came but stories.
In one of such villages, amidst the quiet of hum of lives plainly lived by hard, simple folk, there was the sound of a hammer ringing against steel. It rung out again, and again, for it had been doing so now for some time – as it often was at the Homewood Smithy, once the place of business of a man named Ackley Homewood, renowned in his small village for the quality of his goods. Now, the place belonged to Glory.
Klnnk, klnnk, klnnk, called the strident bellow of the hammer as Glory warped and shaped the hot steel in her hands, bringing it back to the coals for a moment, then back to the anvil to work. Another smith might have used iron tongs to keep the metal steady, but for her, the dusky violet skin of her black-clawed hands was plenty. As long as she didn’t get too close to the furnace itself, any burns she sustained would be minor at most – Glory was about as fireproof as a person could be, and equally resilient to the cold. Hence why, while the air outside could likely freeze a teardrop before it hit your cheek, she was outside working with naught but trousers and a sweat-soaked undershirt, the glistening muscles of her powerful figure on display for any and all passersby to admire.
If this had been a few years past, they would have looked at her with suspicion at best, fear or hatred at worst, for it wasn’t known or understood what made Glory the way she was – her great size, purple flesh, long tail, or the ram-like horns that curled around her pointed ears. The way her eyes glittered like garnets instead of any earthly, any human, color. Born of beasts, perhaps, or something that had crawled out of the great, terrible chasm in the center of the country. “Rendling,” she’d been called, not once kindly. Acceptance had required perseverence and, eventually, sacrifice… sacrifice she didn’t wish to dwell on, now.
Holding up the unfinished weapon, Glory admired the shape of the blade. Straight-backed but single-edged, it was a sword of medium length but with a shape more like that of a knife. Easy to align the edge. Easy to train with, easy to wield; a messer, more or less, or would be once it was finished. Now she just needed to quench it.
Bringing the length of steel to her oil barrel, the horned woman took a deep breath and plunged it in, all at once, listening closely to the sound of a pop or tink that would tell her the weapon was rotten. There was a burst of flame that stung her bare arm – but no sound. Good. Pulling the quenched blade free, she looked down its spine for warps, finding none.
Dark lips curled into a smile, baring slightly pointed teeth. She was quite proud of herself – it was uncommon that she forged a weapon of this length, rarer that she successfully quenched it. Laying it down on her table, she stroked a metal file across it, and was even more proud of herself when the file slid across the steel like glass, rather than biting into it. It was straight, it was hard. Best she could ask for, really.
“Glory! Howzit?” came a call from just beyond the open-air forge, close to the foot-paved road heading to the village’s market square. The man was human – as was nearly everyone in Drithmor, beyond the few elves, sightings of giant-folk, and Glory herself – with a dark beard and fur hat, thick around the middle but strong-armed and near the horned smith’s height. Unlike her, he was properly bundled for the cold weather, with heavy boots, jacket, and a dreadful orange-and-green scarf. “Workin’ hard, or hardly workin’, aye?”
“Howzit, just gettin’ fit and finish on this piece, but a good bit of it’s already fair to go,” Glory mused aloud as she went about her work, taking the unfinished blade to her grindstone and sitting down at it, beginning the process of refining its shape and getting the thing sharp. The handle could come later.
“Don’t see you make a lot of weapons, do I? Not since that big fuck-off polehammer you made,” the man said. Glory could swear she’d seen him before, what was his name? Kristoffel? Something like that. “Run outta demand for pots and nails?”
“It’s a gift, is all,” the horned woman answered simply. “A gift for someone important.”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It was close to dark by the time Glory’s work was done, and her steel billet had already been finished and roughly shaped when she’d started early that morn. Icy winds began to whip through the village streets, scattering bits of snow and frost, biting into the noses and fingers of anyone too foolish to yet go inside. Glory donned a light coat and wore it open, just to take the sting off, as she walked back home – a long bundle of clean fabric clasped tightly in one hand. She made her way past the marketplace, past the furrier and herbalist’s homes, past the small, unadorned stone temple, the Seer’s Watch.
The house Glory lived in was on a hilltop at the village’s outskirts, clustered tightly by evergreens. It had a thatched, snow-covered roof, with foggy windows set into stone walls, decorated by small protective charms woven together with cold-hardy shoots and shimmering blue Zyrite thread. She’d never really been sure if they worked or not. It wasn’t safe to trust in things you didn’t understand – Glory understood fire, steel, the power of a strong arm and a thick skull. Those things, she trusted.
Sliding her heavy iron key into the lock, Glory shouldered the door open and stepped inside, shaking the snow off of her jacket as she came in. It was pleasant to find the place always already warm and lit, one of the many benefits of living with her three sisters, who she could hear scuffling over something in the living room. “I’m home!” the muscled woman called out, doffing the jacket and hanging it near the door behind her.
“Glory!” came an excited voice, followed by the scrambling of six feet, far lighter than Glory’s heavy footfalls. As she staggered into the lamp-lit living room, she was greeted by six familiar faces – Aileen, Titha, and Diera Homewood.
After the ‘mishap’ of Glory’s birth, her strange appearance giving rise to rumors of witchcraft or other dark dealings, her parents had taken a… break… from having any more children. After several years had passed, though, and it seemed their daughter’s existence was unlikely to blight crops, bring plague, or cause any other sort of ruin, they’d started up again – and once they’d started, they’d kept going, never pausing for terribly long between new children. The product was three more daughters, densely packed in age, all of them in their later teen years. Despite the fear of them coming out ‘abnormal,’ as Glory had, all three were perfectly healthy humans: green-eyed, fair of skin and hair, and with a strong family resemblance to each other, if not necessarily to the brawny, horned blacksmith who now cared for them.
Aileen was the oldest among them, if not by terribly much, and also the tallest – making her a full foot shorter than Glory, barely sixteen hands in height. She was slender and a bit lanky, with angular features and dirty blonde hair that she wore in a high, loose tail at the back of her head, with a few thin, errant braids falling down to frame her oval face. She was small-breasted and slim-hipped, and very long-legged, with a row of small scars on her left temple and a steel bar through the opposite brow, a piercing Glory had forged for her as a gift a year back.
Titha was a bit younger, and a fair bit shorter. Her thick hair was worn down to the shoulder and shaved on one side, a direct imitation of the style Glory wore, though rather than Glory’s coal-black, it was of a bronze color a bit darker and more reddish than Aileen’s. Unique among the four sisters, she had a scattering of freckles across her nose, cheeks, and shoulders, and slightly wider hips than Aileen, though her chest was just as small. Tiny, protective symbols decorated pieces of her clothing, wards and tributes to the goddess Vespera, in the name of whom she’d recently taken up attempting to sew. She also sometimes claimed mystical ‘visions,’ though as of yet, none had come true.
Lastly, and the youngest of the three, Diera was also the sweetest, and the perhaps the weakest. She was even shorter than Titha (though just barely – something the two often argued over) and quite skinny, with hardly any curves to speak of, despite having had plenty of time to develop them. Her flaxen hair was worn in a cute bob framing a heart-shaped face, with a button nose and prominent front teeth. While all three of the ‘human’ sisters had green eyes, hers were the most blue among them, seen now through the windows of thick, horn-framed spectacles – purchased from a strange dwarven trader peddling curiosities from the rest of Aetheril. They’d done wonders to aid the girl’s poor eyesight, but tended to give her a headache if she wore them too long.
“Howzit, Glory?” came the voice of Aileen as the eldest of the three rushed up to meet the powerfully-built smith. “You took so long, we were starting to get worried!”
“Just got busy with a project, is all,” she replied, tucking the cloth-wrapped package under her arm – then being hit by an intense aroma, one she’d not noticed when she first came in. “Ooh, what’s that smell?”
“Ox and potato stew!” Diera beamed, flashing a bright smile that showed off her beaver-teeth, as all three of the blonde teenagers gathered around their big sister. “I used fresh cream, and a lot of those herbs you got from the market yesterday! Lots of long-pepper! It’s still sitting on the stove, if you want some!” She was becoming a wonderful cook, though who could say whether it was out of passion or necessity – none of her sisters seemed to have much knack for it, beyond drying meat or salting fish.
“Oof, I’d fuckin’ love some, been hammerin’ since midday, and these muscles don’t run on compliments, right?” Glory chuckled. “Lemme head upstairs and change, and I’ll grab a bowl.”
Without much further discussion, she did as she said – going to the house’s second floor, where the bedrooms were, and stripping out of the sweat- and soot-stained clothes she’d worn to work. After taking a moment to wash herself up and roll a cramp out of her impressively powerful shoulder, she donned a clean pair of trousers, and the loose black shirt Titha had sewn her – a garment that was slightly lopsided and far too large, in the interest of making it ‘big enough’ for Glory, but one she still wore with pride. Almost like a short, baggy black dress. With one really long sleeve. Could be worse.
Heading back down, she saw that Diera had already prepared a carved wooden bowl for her, filled with a divine-smelling stew that Glory couldn’t wait to dig into – and even a piece of toasted brown bread to sop it with. “All for you!” the youngest sister beamed, handing the bowl over and then scampering back to the front of the fireplace, sitting on her knees but keeping her bluish-green eyes fixed on her horned sister.
“Awh, thanks!” Glory flashed a fang-filled smile and sat down at one of the chairs surrounding the fireplace – the largest one, though even that wheezed under the weight of her heroic frame – and began to voraciously eat, finishing off the bowl in barely a minute before asking for more. As she ate, Aileen and Titha cautiously examined the cloth-wrapped package that had been set down, eyeing it with curious suspicion like a pair of cats trying to decide whether or not something was safe to eat. Halfway into her second bowl, Glory spoke up. “It’s for you, Aileen.”
The lanky sister’s eyes widened briefly, her expression shifting abruptly from quizzical to delighted, then to anticipatory. “It is…?” she asked, hoping for more of an answer than her question demanded.
Glory let out a soft grunt. She didn’t want to sour the mood by explaining the reason for the gift – that she’d soon be leaving Drithmor, that it’d be up to Aileen to keep her sisters safe, to be the new head of the house. She wasn’t ready to have that conversation, not yet, not before she had to. But there was no reason the gift couldn’t be opened now. “Go ahead,” she nodded toward the package. “Open it.”
If Aileen’s eyes had been wide before, they were like saucers now, and she gently lifted the package, immediately confused by its weight. She carefully unwrapped it, letting out an audible gasp when she unveiled the finished sword within.
“By the Twins,” Titha cursed beneath her breath as the blade was unveiled. It was rare that a genuine piece of art was made anywhere in Drithmor, and certainly not by a smith of such meager skill as Glory, but it seemed the gods had smiled on this endeavor in particular. It was perfectly weighted and aligned, the wooden scales of its handle painstakingly carved from a tough burl of juniper, pinned securely through the weapon’s tang. The forward-facing spoke of its crossguard bent down into a knuckle bow (both it and the flat-bottomed pommel forged from solid steel), embedded into which was a single tiny Zyrite crystal, glittering royal blue – making the weapon exotic, a part of Eralis.
“Glory, I…” Aileen began, swallowing hard, simply staring down at the displayed sword. “I can’t, I… why?”
Glory chewed at the inside of her cheek, setting the bowl of stew down beside her as she tried to think of a good answer. An answer besides the real one. She’d never exactly been clever, and trying to lie to her sisters rarely went well. She settled for a half-truth. “I won’t always be here, right? To protect you, I mean. And… bad things happen, sometimes. We know that better than most.”
“But you will always be here!” Diera interjected, her mouth falling into a frown that still left her teeth exposed, “We… need you.”
“Well, maybe Diera needs you,” Titha chuckled smugly.
“An’ what if somethin’ happened to me, yeah? It’s… it’s good that Aileen knows how to protect herself. Protect all of you. She’s tough,” Glory paused, turning her full attention back to Aileen herself. “You’re tough.”
There was a moment of hesitation before Aileen finally wrapped her fingers around the messer’s handle, lifting it properly, taking a few lazy swipes at the air with it. “It’s lighter than I thought,” she mused aloud, her tone blending eagerness with a new sense of responsibility, absorbing what Glory had said. “Will you teach me how to use it?”
The horned woman flashed a crooked smile. “Fuck yeah, I will. What kind of a big sister would I be if I didn’t?” One that didn’t abandon her sisters in search of some ‘Great Destiny,’ perhaps. One that stayed home, worked the forge, provided for her family. One that spent the rest of her life in Drithmor. It hadn’t been a bad life, so far. All things considered. “I’ll show you some basic forms in the morning, yeah? Give you somethin’ to practice.”
By the Twins, she wanted to tell them she was leaving. Wanted to pick at that wound in her heart. Seeing them happy, though, gathering around to gawk at the sword, taking turns holding it and swishing it around. More excited than they’d been about anything in a long while. She couldn’t fuck that up, not right now. She’d tell them soon. She would.
Soon.
“Thanks, sis,” Aileen said, the surprise of the gift and the responsibility it came with finally giving way to a bright, genuine gratitude. “Thank you, thank you!” her voice raised as she wrapped the sword back up and set it down, dashing across the living room to pounce on Glory, wrapping her far larger sister in a tight, eager hug. During an intense squeeze around the midriff, Aileen planted a warm kiss on Glory’s cheek – quite an innocent kiss, one two sisters might commonly share – until a second followed, this one placed upon the neck, this one lingering a bit longer.
“Hey there…” Glory smiled, squeezing very gently around Aileen’s slender waist, always cautious not to accidentally squish her smaller sisters – she didn’t always know her own strength. “Someone’s friendly, yeah?”
“I just thought of a good way to thank you,” Aileen pulled back a little, biting her bottom lip and now fully situating herself in Glory’s lap, arms draped lightly around the woman’s impressive shoulders. Without a moment of further explanation, she leaned forward, planting her lips tenderly onto Glory’s in a long embrace, emerald eyes drifting shut as she kissed her older sister.
“OooOoOoOooh…!” Titha whooped, not so far away, grabbing Diera’s shoulder and pointing at the display. “Lookit!”
Diera’s ensuing gasp was one of excitement, rather than surprise: this was not the first time this had happened, between any combination of the Homewood sisters. Though they were as much siblings of flesh and blood as any others, in spite of Glory’s unusual appearance, the four sisters’ relationships with one another extended beyond the familial and the friendly, into the romantic and, very commonly, the sexual. The nature of this relationship was kept largely private, though it was far less taboo on Drithmor than the rest of Aetheril – Nyrelis, counterpart to Vespera of the Twin Gods, taught that love and romance were meant to be pursued in spite of potential complications. For Glory and her sisters, home alone often with only one another for company, those teachings were sufficient to move their relationship to the next level.
“Mmmph…” Glory let out a soft, hot breath as her coal-black lips groped for her teenage sister’s, losing themselves in one another as their tongues slithered forth to stroke and caress along their opposite. The blacksmith found her hands quickly finding the bottom hem of Aileen’s warm tunic, tugging it upward, then over her sister’s head, tossing it away and leaving the far smaller girl’s tiny chest exposed, pink nipples already hardened with excitement, both of them pierced with little steel bars, as her brow was. Glory broke the kiss just long enough to tilt her sister backwards, kissing down Aileen’s chin, throat, and chest, nuzzling into the shallow swells of her young breasts and letting her tongue swirl lovingly around one nipple. She tilted the piercing from side to side, causing it to slightly tug at the sensitive flesh it was threaded through, drawing a wince and moan of excitement from the lanky blonde.
“Ooh, they’re goin’ at it…” Diera observed aloud, then bit her lower lip with a mischievous smirk, glancing toward Titha. “Let’s help!”
“Alright!” Titha returned an evil giggle, both younger sisters beginning to stealthily approach the large chair atop which Aileen straddled Glory, the two having returned to making out, the horned woman’s heat-calloused hands caressing up and down her sister’s bare back. As their tongues danced and cavorted across one another, conscious thought fading to a simpler, more primitive language of breath and touch, Titha and Diera infiltrated from the sides – the bronze-haired sister beginning to gently tug Glory’s tunic upwards, while the bespectacled one clumsily fussed with Aileen’s belt from behind, unfastening it and easing her trousers down, then off, baring the elder teen’s bare backside.
“Mmph… w-what’re you two doin’…?” Aileen murmured as her pants were pulled off, cooperating only absently, but certainly taking note of the fact that she was being stripped. “Diera, is that youUUAaahhHh!” She let out a squeal of surprise and delight as Diera’s tongue playfully flicked across the prize she’d just uncovered, tracing wet, feather-light touches along the sensitive pucker of Aileen’s rear entrance, which immediately tensed in alarm.
“Wha, don’t ya like tha no more…?” Diera teased, on her knees behind Aileen and letting her tongue continue to anally harangue her older sister, taking quick little licks at the tender knot of flesh, then swirling around it, drawing a truly profane sound from Aileen. “Yuhh… mmn, ya, I thin’ ya do…” she giggled, not pausing her affectionate licking and prodding. One hand gently squeezed her sister’s hip, while the other struggled to slither into its shirtsleeve, beginning the process of attempting to disrobe.
At the twisted expression and barely-human sounds escaping Aileen, Glory offered a plaintive smile. “You okay, sis?”
“Y-yeah… better than… o-okay…” she replied uneasily, though the fact that one eye was squeezed shut while the other was flown wide, teeth gritted together, and hands attempting to form fists around Glory’s biceps, suggested that ‘okay’ was a term with some necessary context. “By the Twins… h-her tongue….”
“Almost… there…!” Titha exclaimed under her breath as she pulled Glory’s black tunic up higher and higher. The real point of difficulty was lifting it above the blacksmith’s breasts – for all the petite figures of the younger sisters, Glory boasted muscle and curves alike, her chest as robust as the rest of her amethyst figure. With only a moment more of struggle, though, the garment popped up past it, its generous neckline allowing it to also navigate the eldest sister’s horns and slip off of her completely, leaving her as bare-chested as Aileen was, though far more… impressively so. Like Aileen, her deep purple nipples were pierced, but that was where the similarities drew to an abrupt end – her breasts were full and quite sizable. Grabbable, suckable, all properties her sisters had availed themselves of plenty of times. “Hah!” In fact, one Titha planned to avail herself of at that very moment.
Half-climbing up onto one arm of the chair Glory sat in, Titha shimmied out of her own long skirt, then her short tunic, baring her own tiny, freckled chest as she leaned into Glory, pawing and nuzzling at one of the ‘rendling’s’ fuller breasts, her lips quickly seeking the steel-laced nipple and lovingly suckling at it, her other hand holding onto Aileen’s hip to keep her balance. A moment after she began to gently suck at Glory’s breast, though, the other become likewise occupied as Aileen leaned in and to the side, licking and nibbling hungrily at the thick purple bud as Diera continued to lap at her backdoor from behind.
“Ahhh… fuhh, h-hey, girls, I…” Glory panted, her tail lashing back and forth between her legs as she became quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of two of her teen sisters suckling and biting at her chest. Despite her far greater size, she was outnumbered severely enough that it felt like all she could do was lay back and enjoy herself. In addition, some of her more exotic features made certain forms of reciprocation challenging, if not outright impossible – her horns, for instance, meant using her mouth for much required careful maneuvering, and the sharp, durable black claws on her fingers made those likewise unusable. “You’re… gonna get me… real riled up, yeah…?”
“Oh yeah?” Diera let out a naughty little giggle, finally pulling away from Aileen and squirming out of the rest of her baggy clothing, revealing the waifish frame beneath. If Aileen and Titha were small-chested, Diera was truly flat as a board, just firm, beaded pink nipples atop an expanse of pale skin. “Well, why don’t we see about that…?” Shuffling forward on her knees, Diera wiggled between Glory’s slightly-spread legs, reaching out to grab her breeches by the waist and pulling them down as forcefully as her meager strength could manage. After a moment’s effort, she managed to yank them down to the knee, from which they easily dropped the rest of the distance to the floor, bundling around Glory’s black-clawed feet and freeing the beast they’d been struggling to contain.
For there was another way in which Glory differed from her sisters, a way her younger siblings had come to greatly enjoy, though none had offered any explanation for the difference – it simply was, as were the horns and fire-resistant skin. Rather than the snug, needy girlhoods the three younger Homewoods sported between their thighs, Glory bore the tackle of a man… or, perhaps more accurately, a monster. The thing neared a foot in length, though perhaps failed to reach that marker outright, and was as thick and virile as any other, unpruned by a midwife’s blade. After so much teasing and suckling, it stood proud and hungry, lording over the heavy sack beneath it, and now throbbing against the warm, soft skin of Aileen’s flat belly.
“Girls, I….” Glory attempted again, a bit sheepishly.
“Twins! I always forget how big it is!” Diera gasped, licking her lips and standing, sidling against Aileen’s other flank so that she stood opposite Titha – all three teen sisters now forming a semi-circle around Glory, and the mouth-watering column of violet flesh that had just been let loose. Despite her sisters’ fascination with it, any and all attempts to get it inside any of them had met with failure: Glory’s cock was simply too large, and her sisters too small, to put the thing to proper use without risk of injury. Attempts had, of course, been made. But in time, the girls had discovered plenty of other ways to make the beast weep.
“Mmphh…” Titha murmured, popping off of Glory’s nipple and twirling her tongue around it, side-eyeing the massive girldick just a few inches away from her face. “Think it will take all three of us to put it back to sleep…?”
Aileen pulled away from the other breast a moment later, fingertips stroking up and down along the blacksmith’s muscular belly. “I’d say we owe it to her to try,” she cooed, leaning into Titha for a moment to change a brief, heated kiss with her – the watching of which kept Glory as hard as the iron she worked so tirelessly. “Here, let me, mmhhnn….” Squirming down and out of position, Aileen got out of her big sister’s lap, ushering the other two fair-haired Homewoods back to her sides, all three of them now on her knees, and all nude. Taking gentle hold of Glory by the hips, she tugged until the horned sister was scooted forward a bit, half-sitting, half-laying in her chair now, slouched with her legs spread in such a way that Aileen could kneel between them, with Titha and Diera straddling each thigh.
“What do you think?” Diera asked, her voice sounding almost innocent absent the lewdness of her suggestion. “Just tongues this time? Or…?”
“Boobs! That worked better last time!” Titha beamed, squirming forward and pressing her small chest up against one side of Glory’s cock, squishing herself up against it and sliding slowly up and down. “Or… chest, in your case, Di! Nips, maybe?”
“That’s not fair,” Diera frowned, “I wanna do it too, you know I haven’t–”
“Easy, girls,” Glory said with a nervous chuckle, especially as Aileen gently stroked her tongue up along the underside of her shaft. “Di, your chest is very cute, I’d… nngh… I-I’d be honored to have you– hahh….”
“Aileen broke her,” Titha let out a dramatic sigh.
Despite their squabbling, though, it only took a moment for the three smaller sisters to begin moving with singular purpose, each leaning in from their own angle to press and squish their slender figures up against Glory’s cock, slim arms entangling around its base as they cradled the thing between their chests, rubbing soft, tender flesh against it. This, of course, brought the throbbing head of Glory’s impressive rod treacherously close to each of their mouths – a temptation none of the three sisters could endure for long without finally giving in.
It was only moments before three adoring tongues began to swirl and stroke across the tip of Glory’s violet scepter, even as the three teens used their entire bodies in tandem to perform the task a single hand might have upon a lesser member. When one mouth would come to close to another, the two colliding sisters would pause and share a long, theatrical kiss, as much for Glory’s entertainment as their own satisfaction, nipping at one another’s lips, licking at one another’s tongues. There was no disputing, though, that the greatest share of their eager efforts was upon their horned sister, working as a single unit to make this great purple spire erupt.
The pleasure was… unspeakable. Glory could do nothing but lie back, the end of her own tail now clenched between her teeth, fingers clutching at the arms of her chair as she watched her sisters writhe and cavort along the length of her cock, pressing their small, tender breasts (or smooth, flat chest, in Diera’s case) up and down across her while their lips and tongues serviced the head like worshippers at an altar, leaving the throbbing thing the deep, shiny violet of a ripe plum, treated just as deliciously. Even through the pleasure itself, simply watching the display made her more aroused than she could bear, glittering garnet eyes burning with need as she watched her sisters shamelessly suck and slobber at her aching girlthing.
She held on as long as she was able, through the contented moans, gasps, and wet sounds, those of soft skin sliding across hard flesh, of the kisses shared between it all. Glory’s grip tightened on the chair so hard the wood began to creak and groan, threatening to splinter under the pressure, and the claws at the end of her toes dug into the rug beneath her. “Haahhh… nnngh, fucK!” she finally wailed out, throwing her head back and unleashing a long, wild roar of release, a volley of her thick shots of hot seed firing into the air, then raining back down onto her sisters, followed by a few weaker, secondary blasts of her creamy cum. It got everywhere – everywhere that mattered – all over her own heaving chest, and all across the faces and open mouths of her sisters, who quickly went to work ‘cleaning’ Glory and each other, primarily with their tongues. Occasionally they would pause to share what they’d collected, exchanging lewd, sticky kisses to properly disperse their bounty amongst each other, all while Glory watched, breathless, exhausted. Well, exhausted for now.
“Mmm…” Diera cooed, prodding her tongue at her sister’s dickhole, trying to lick up what little cum might have remained. Eventually, she had to be satisfied with what she’d already gotten. “That was fun!”
Titha giggled, “Hehe, yeah it was,” she followed, leaning up to kiss Glory on the cheek, then lips. “When do you think you’ll be ready to go again, sis?”
Again? Insatiable little runts. Glory flashed a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “Just gimme a second, right? I’ve fuel in the fire for another bout, I think.”