Ghoraka the Lefthanded

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She's a blacksmith, but beats more than metal, gnome sane?
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KuroshioX
KuroshioX
785 Followers

WARNING: This story contains dickgirls/futanari. If you aren't into this sort of thing, please don't read it anyway then cry about it in the comment section. If you are into this sort of thing, carry on smartly.

*****

For blacksmiths, things were always busiest with the spring thaw. Generally, only two groups made up the bulk of the brisk trade. There were the constant stream of farmers, looking for new tools or repairing the damage done to old inventory. Then there were the armies, with pompous aides-de-camp placing large orders of weapons and armor for the campaign season. Every blacksmith across the valley and the surrounding hills was working from sun up to sun down, desperately banging away with their hammers in hopes of stemming the tide of incoming work. Ghoraka the Lefthanded was no exception, the powerfully built orc woman pausing only to brush her leaf red hair from her eyes and wipe the plump drops of sweat from her bro.

With a sigh, she rolled over her latest work: a repair job on a damaged chest plate, the new owner explaining it was a family heirloom of sorts, taken out by a particularly impetuous son and returning in its present state. Ghoraka grunted at the short tale the middle aged man told, asking in typical orc fashion, "Did the son come back too?"

The man betrayed no hint of surprise whatsoever, "Unfortunately, yes." He offered up both hands in a sign of resignation, "Ah well, I suppose it is better than the alternative. I couldn't bear to hear his mother's weeping if he did not."

But that left Ghoraka over-tasked for the day, her apprentice having temporarily succumb to the shop's heat and repetitive strokes required to fashion metal in a quality fashion. Shaking her head, she wondered where the girl had gotten off, no longer lying outside the door, covered in sweat and fanning herself lazily. There wasn't much she could do about it from her shop anyway, setting the armor back on the mold and resuming the swings of her hammer. She was rhythmic in her dedication, repeated strikes smoothing the metal out before setting it back into place, the gashes and dings disappearing by the minute.

However, it was far from easy, and Ghoraka found her usual dedication flagging. Not for any particular failure of her strength or stamina, merely the rise of her libido as she worked. That was one place where Marrissa, her apprentice would have come in handy, the rather stocky human teen always being up for a quick romp while bent over a workbench or on her knees in the backroom, tending to Ghoraka's needs in a most satisfying fashion. Her lips were like --

The orc shook her head, trying to drive the scene from her mind and get back to the task at hand. However, in spite of her thoughts filling with various tricks of the blacksmith's trade her thick member persisted in its growth, slowly gathering blood and flaring, the heft of it lifting her apron. She grunted in frustration, finally laying her hammer aside and casting off her apron, fully nude underneath on account of the unusually high temperature in her shop.

If the girl, her apprentice, had gone anywhere, it was likely to be far away and Ghoraka nearly resigned herself to a long trek towards the town's central well, likely to be crowded as people poured out of their homes and sought to socialize. Whereas the blacksmith loved nothing more than a quick, spontaneous romp, most women weren't nearly as indiscriminate and the long dance between two eager parties only frustrated her on most days.

There was an alternative though and Ghoraka quickly pulled on breeches and a loose-fitting sleeveless blouse, the bare essentials to maintaining public modesty. The top's long slits allowed anyone astride her an ample survey of her breasts, their size and shape matched only by their firmness, while her bottoms were tight against the width of her hips, speaking to the body of a breeder. All the same, she rarely enjoyed any attentions beyond that, the prominent tusks and unsubtle musculature turning away most of those who would have been interested, with her cock, hanging stiffly down the leg of her breeches, scaring away the rest.

That left the art of self-reliance, one she'd been taught from an early age, the practices of which she planned to put into effect as soon as she'd rounded the corner around her shop to a stable, clean and freshly strewn with straw although presently empty of horses. It was far from ideal, but it was inviting, with her cock making its approval known through the most direct manner, throbbing intensely against her thigh as she took a quick glance to the street before stepping inside.

Once inside, Ghoraka wasted no time, untying her breeches and pushing them down to her ankles, sitting down on a particularly soft looking pile of hay and lewdly spitting on her now standing member. The wad of spittle landed true, coating the head as her head clasped it tightly, rolling in a circular motion to smear the ad hoc lubrication around. While her muscles might have protested further activity, her fat dick and plump sac underneath had the libidinous veto and forced Ghoraka to push them into action, peeling back the small amount of excess flesh to bring her cockhead into the glorious light.

She grunted again, sliding her hand down halfway before squeezing tight with her left hand, the grip strength enough to cause her green breeding pole to deform in shape like as if a bladder filled with water: the middle portion giving ground to Ghoraka's hold while the darker green head swelled. It was move that the orc had learned young, increasing the sensitivity and allowing her to merely lick at the head to provide an incredible sensation.

Adequately primed and ready, Ghoraka rolled onto her her shoulders, contorting her body as if a dancer, her thick legs posted back, bringing her face to face with her own cock. Smiling to herself and grunting, the orc dickgirl extended a rough tongue to flick at the tip, swiping a thick drop of precum into her mouth. Just as expected, a sharp pang of ecstasy flowed down her shaft and to her chubby balls, bringing them tighter in her sac.

As her efforts were rewarded, the lewd greenskin bent deeper, allowing her lips to the connect to the head, providing a hot, wet mouth to complement her tongue's work. But she didn't neglect her shaft, her hand scooping drool from her lips before it rolled back on to her face, providing the opportunity for her hand - still clasping as tight as she dared - to slide up and down the remaining length of green dick. Additionally, her off-hand dropped even lower, slapping her balls several times before lifting them away and sliding three thick fingers up and down her equally eager, but heretofore neglected snatch.

Blessed she was, able to - with some difficultly - suck her own cock.

Unfortunately, what she couldn't do was maintain vigilance demanded of such shockingly public lewdness. The people passing by on the nearby street couldn't fail to hear the sounds of hedonism emerging from behind the blacksmith's shop. It was only a matter of time before someone curious would wonder what manner of beast was so thoroughly pleased with itself that it had to make itself known to passerby.

That curious someone was a certain Posza, a half-elf, half-human woman of some renown as far freelance mercenaries went. Clad in evening clothes, but still visibly carrying her trademark slender knobbed club by her waist, the curious little half-elf picked up on the noises and stepped off the street to investigate, pulling her rich blonde hair back into a ponytail in case a confrontation arose. Coming up the stables, her fingers idly danced across her club, debating between drawing the weapon and possibly starting a fight where none would break out otherwise or finding herself without armament in hand upon stumbling across some never-do-well with a blade intentions.

She was older than most mercenaries, being a positively elderly thirty-six winters in a field where most started at fifteen and were half-crippled by twenty-six. But what really made her exceptional was the fact she'd gotten to such advanced age with nothing but the slightest of scars marring her good looks and fine features; a small nick on her chin, the barest hint of a blade's touch across the back of one hand, all that were visible. That feats wasn't the product of a life spent taking unnecessary risks and the club came out, drawn up in one hand as she peered over the chin-height walls of the stables.

The sight of Ghoraka was a surprise to the extent the normally collected half-elf could hardly keep her eyes from bulging from her a skull. She watched, rapt, as Ghoraka continued her brutally tight stroking, two fingers dipping in and out of her honey pot as precum dribbled over her lips. The orc had her eyes screwed shut tight, focusing on the fervor of lascivious self-pleasure. That was what allowed the mercenary to peel away from the wall quietly, taking care to mask her footsteps until she'd entered and stood over the orc woman.

"Having fun, are we?" As Posza spoke, her smile was less friendly and more... hungry.

Ghoraka sudden opened her eyes, her mouth falling open and allowing the all too eager cock to pop out audibly, spewing a fresh trail of precum across one of her tusks. Her face, already a shade of summer green, darkened as blood rushed to it, the sense of embarrassment and shame at not just being caught masturbating but also sucking her own cock washing over her like a tidal wave.

"I... I... I was just... umm..." The blacksmith bumbled out nothing but empty words, her mind tripping over any plausible excuse for her to be rolled upside down with her dick between her lips. There really weren't any, but that didn't mean she couldn't try, "There was just... uhhh... something that came up and..."

"Oh, I can tell," Posza spoke, taking a step towards the orc, "Something definitely came up and you just had to deal with it in these stables, yes?"

"No! Not like that, I mean..."

The tall blonde took another step, this time standing directly over the still inverted Ghoraka and peeling her night dress and underclothes aside. Most unlike a half-elf, Posza's cock was pale, thick and meaty, with a pair of heavy balls swinging freely underneath. Ghoraka stopped talking and instead tried to roll herself upright, posting her arms out to her sides only to have them stepped on in turn by Posza. The blonde warrior idly ran her slender club against against the orc's sac, "Whoa there tusky... I heard a rumor and I want to know if it is true..."

Frustrated in her attempt to escape the humiliating position, Ghoraka growled and showed her teeth, succeeding in only making Posza smile more broadly as she squatted atop the still upside-down blacksmith, "From what I'm told, orc girls give the best balljobs. Is that true?"

With that, the half-elf used the cold metal of her club to prevent Ghoraka's balls from shifting while pressing the weight of her cock against the two heavy orbs, spreading them far enough to create a nice hollow for her girth, "Mmm... promising so far..." Her smile transformed into a set of clenched teeth and Posza began working her hips, her boots pressing the orc's arms deeper into the bed of hay and the position of her body stopping Ghoraka from any form of escape. Instead she had to take it, the steady back and forth slide of a fat dick, her already overly-full nuts being used to squeeze and caress a heavyset womanhood. "I guess... yummy... those rumors about orc girls are true..."

Anyone within fifty paces would have known Posza's motions for the sign of an impending climax, her free hand clenching the green balls wrapped around her cock especially tight as she quickly entered the home stretch. Her pelvic thrust became frenzied and relentless, her mouth hissing through gritted teeth as her own nuts prepared to send off a bountiful helping of half-and-half girlbutter.

"Nnnghh! By the gods, greenskin balls are the best! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Ah, gods!"

There was nothing subdued the mercenary's final cry, her length swelling with the libidinous harvest. She pulled out of Ghoraka's compressed ball sac and aimed downward, giving the blacksmith only a second to appreciate the view of her flaring head before it was ended by an audible outpouring of Posza's special syrup. It was creamy and thick and slightly sweet, landing all over Ghoraka's face with the fortunate bits landing in her mouth as she moaned loudly.

Of course, those moans weren't totally natural, with the half-elf having rolled her club so that one of the knobs pressed in that special area below Ghoraka's nuts, an unwarmed bulb of steel that shocked her balls, pussy and prostate simultaneously. Despite her desperation, Ghoraka's still stiff member exploded as well, following the path blazed by Posza's load and quickly giving her grass green face a second dousing in spunk, a full minute of rope after rope of her liquid hedonism splashing across her skin and dripping into her mouth.

Naturally, both parties gasped in the aftermath, a pair of satisfying orgasms uniting them for the briefest of moments. Without a doubt, it passed too soon but Posza stepped off her arms anyway, swiftly pulling her flagging member back into a respectable place before walking out of the stables, leaving behind a thoroughly glazed orcish blacksmith the only evidence.

KuroshioX
KuroshioX
785 Followers
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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousalmost 8 years ago
Stop

I can't deal with all those stupid words you use for cum. It ruined it for me. Girl-butter? Seriously?

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 8 years ago
Would love more she-orc stories

A similar story would be great, fully female or shemale would both be great

AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago
Huh, neat.

I was kinda expecting it to be a bit longer, but a nice short romp all the same.

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