A Dragon's Dilemma

"Go on, baby, suck my big tits!" I commanded, loving the feel of his hot tongue all over my huge orbs as he happily complied, basting every inch of my enormous globes in his lusty slobber. Harold hummed contentedly into his work, moaning a bit as I used my butt and body-weight to bear down on his rod, working a tremendous glob of precum out with the effort of my ass-cheeks alone. It was the size of a pear and I gathered the pool of pearlescent fluid between my palms, looking him directly in the eyes as I brought it to my lips in a slow gurgling slurp.

He flushed, intrigued by my nastiness and flattered by my obvious delight in his flavor.

"Mmmm, tastes so potent," I said, licking my lips. "Let's see if we can't get more of that for me..."

It was time to bring out the big guns, so to speak. At long last I wrapped my humongous tits around the shaft of his titanic cock, just beneath the head. Even though his organ was beyond immense in its girth as well as length, my breasts are so large they could fully encircle him where my hands could not. His face lit up at what was probably the first time he'd ever felt something like actual penetration enveloping him.

"Oh, M-monica," he gasped as I began to work. I went slow at first, and simple, just tiny up and down strokes with my wrists, letting the slobber he'd left in my cleavage and the precum he was now constantly spilling act as the lubricant needed to work my udders up and down his pole, just getting a little bit of it, feeling the glans between my boobs, loving the way he throbbed and twitched in response to my huge fuckpillows sliding firmly along.

Then I changed it up a little, moving slightly faster, bringing my arms into play now to cover more ground, or rather, cock. Now with each milking upstroke of my tits he would leak another torrent of precum. I let some of it go, loving the hot feel of it on my skin as it dripped down my melons and left them with a visible sheen of glaze. At other times, I would dip my head to lock my lips onto his cumslit, slurping and sucking, loving the meaty taste as I drank his juices right from the source. And still at others I would just let my face take the hit, smearing my cheeks back and forth across his erupting flow, feeling the fluid run down my neck and shoulders, matting my hair up a bit in places. I didn't care; everything about this cock, about this man-dragon, about this moment was perfect in a way that no incidental discomfort could disrupt.

Now I got my knees into it, letting my huge hooters squeeze tight as I slid them all the way from his tip down to the middle of his shaft, still moving pretty slowly (which was easier on my leg muscles, this was quite a feat of strength for me,) as I titwanked bigger and bigger dollops of precum from his insane organ. I was pressing my tits so tightly together on him I could feel literally every vein of his dick between them, his shaft was a topographical map that I was coming to know by heart just from pleasuring him. His head rolled limply back and forth, he whimpered, he moaned; he simply could not believe the amount of ecstasy I was giving him and it was clearly a bit overwhelming.

Good. I like to overwhelm.

Now I got my ass into the action, dropping dramatically down until my massive tits would bounce into his balls, then roll my back to rise back up, over and over. Now I really did try to pick up speed, but given the vast distance I was having to cover to fully titfuck him this way, it was still just a long stroke every twenty or thirty seconds, and it was wearing me out. Sweat beaded on my brow and rolled down my tits in shiny beads that only served to add more to the mixture of fluids lubricating his log through my creamy canyon again and again. He gritted his teeth and angled back slightly as his behemoth balls tightened visibly up.

"Oh...oh Monica, I feel so...I don't know...I...I..."

He was on the verge of orgasm, but I was never going to push him past it at this slow pace. I made on long shimmying journey back up his cock and locked myself into position beneath his head.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" I asked, looking him in the eyes, holding in the position of a calm before the storm.

"I want to."

"Then you shall."

Then I went wild on him, whipping my tits up and down his head and glans faster and faster, my boobs making a loud clapping noise as they collided at the top of each stroke. Then I changed it up, wringing them back and forth, curling them around his cock, hurting myself a little as I taxed their limits of endurance and elasticity to give him firm varied sensation at greater and greater and speeds. Then I was moving them in opposite directions, tossing his huge dick back and forth between them, sometimes leaning in to let it slap across my face, not to show submission, just to let him know what it felt like.

I was a wild woman and whore for him, using my tits as nothing more than a pair of tools for bringing him the fuck off, attacking his head with lusty licks and slurps, nailing myself in the face with my breastflesh as it splattered me and most of the room in more and more precum. He was my victim and king as one in that moment, helpless before me as I helplessly made his life better with stroke after stroke of my huge fat tits.

And then, much too fast for me to prepare for it, he was cumming. His juice punched me right in the nose, pasting both eyes shut, running around my neck and down the tops of my tits. What I'd been sampling in precum like a sumptuous broth was now something much thicker, manlier, and almost boiling hot. I don't know if that heat was a product of his size or his draconic nature, but either way it was simultaneously soothing and arousing as it poured into me, letting me show my pleasure in horny gurgling gargles as I continued to suck and titfuck his cock through the rest of this orgasm.

It was exhausting however, his balls kept buckling as they blasted out shot after pent-up shot, a lifetime's worth of jizz it seemed, spewing all over my face and tits, filling me up to the point of belching, my stomach bulging just a little from the sheer over-production. I panted for breath in ragged gasps between blasts, still unable to see through the thick mask of hot cum I was now wearing. It felt like it would leave an impression forever, even if that was just in my horny, fevered imagination.

Finally he finished and I toweled off with the now-useless blanket, collapsing against him in the weakness of muscle-fatigue. I would be sore tomorrow, but stronger for it. I had come expecting to find an unpleasant fuck followed by the misery of a long, sore walk home. Instead, to my shock, I'd found love.

Epilogue

Tradition would demand that Harold knock me up, that we part ways, and that I return to give up his child to him when it was born.

Tradition would demand that we never speak to one another after that point, that the child be raised in the culture of dragons and become one of the villagers from that time on, to watch over my people and breed with one of them to form the next generation.

Tradition would demand that I return to my folk, a ruined thing now, never quite looked at by men, likely to grow into unhappy widowhood, supporting myself on handicrafts or begged alms.

Tradition could go fuck itself.

Tradition had nothing to say when I returned to my people, not walking in the waddle of a sore-cunted conquest, but flying on the back of a majestic dragon, small for the size of his kind, certainly, but far larger than any small army could hope to fight.

Tradition kept its whore mouth closed as I made my demands; food, supplies, gold and jewels, all carefully bagged and tied to Harold's scaly tail, the threat of immolation keeping everyone nice and compliant.

Tradition might have frowned or wept or gnashed its teeth as we flew from that place, far far away, across the vast seas and to the balmy tropical region as far from both our people as we could possibly get.

Tradition would demand that they look for us, that we be brought to justice for violating the age-old pact, but they could never hope to find us among the thousands of islands.

Tradition had lost, and I had won.