Merry XXXmas, #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg – New Installment of MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 3

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 3

by Moctezuma Johnson

The Doctor, a Belarusian with a cool demeanor, knew something was way off. Even with a body that produced Lena’s eggplant-sized tits, her frame was too small for her current weight. It was unnatural. The baby was not going to come out. There was no way. The Doctor made the choice.

Lena was drugged and prepped for surgery. There was an IV, a breathing mask, many machines, nurses, and hands moving all over her. The room was sterile and white. It was not a warm place. It was a hospital. They cut her front from her hip bone to hip bone basically opening up her entire reproductive area, the incision went all the way up toward her sternum. Natasha was terrified outside. She gripped Vlad’s hand so hard that she peeled skin off of him. The pitch in the operating room was frenetic. Then they say the baby-yeti inside the poor Russian woman’s body. The doctor birthed him. There was the cry identical to a human baby. Natasha relaxed her skin-ripping grip on her husband. There was a growl. Her nails dug into him enough that blood trickled down his sleeve. Inside the operating room was abject silence.

Sometimes in life, things that aren’t really supposed to happen do take place. There are black swans. Market crashes, wars, infant deaths all take our small human brains by surprise. When a Belarusian Doctor stands in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, wiping his glasses clean, and tucking in his button down shirt, he does not expect that his day will bring him into the unexpected. He’s trained for emergencies, but he’s not mentally preparing for one and that is a big difference. He wants to put his time in at the office, come back to his wife and kids, eat some samsa, play with the kids, put them to bed, make love to his wife, read a few paragraphs of the latest medical journal, and fall into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, the good doctor had different kind of day. He stood in the operating theater with his mouth wide open staring at a newborn yeti that he has just delivered. This newborn yeti could be considered a black swan. When the doctor was brushing his teeth this morning he had no thoughts of what to do in case of yeti so, as you can imagine, he was quite unprepared. “Take the…baby to the nursery. Get a bottle, ten bottles, in his mouth and keep him calm, nurse!” he barked at his head nurse, yes she gave him head in the supply closets now and then but cut the sniggering and focus on the catastrophe at hand. All things considered the doctor was doing pretty well in the face of a black swan of this magnitude. Another man would give in to the buckling knees and faint. Not Doctor Maxirov. He drank his vodka straight and could cowboy up in these situations whether prepared or not.

The doctor turned his attention back to the operating table. “She’s losing blood fast,” said the other nurse, the one with the very tight ass, but again that’s not the point. The doctor immediately started to stitch Lena back up and control the bleeding but it didn’t really work. I mean, a yeti, came out of her.

In the nursery the Yeti was calm sucking on seventeen bottles simultaneously. They were able to get his weight. He clocked in at 17 lbs. 8 ounces. The head nurse decided not to record this and swore all the orderlies to secrecy. Being a hot woman got them to acquiesce, at least for the moment. There were no photos taken, no tweets, no instagrams, no Facebook. The crappy WiFi that the government owned and operated hospital shot through the ether may be as responsible for the good behavior as common sense.

The doctor pushed down on her pelvis trying to force the body to start helping itself and get the bleeding down but it was a lost cause. Lena was losing blood and her heart was starting to go into cardiac arrest. They were able to avoid a massive heart attack but after all the screaming, fussing, medicating, and other doctor-stuff that I don’t really understand well took place, Lena’s brain was alive but her body was in a deep sleep.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his hair in a mess, sweat dripping down his face, his lab coat smeared with blood, while taking Natasha’s hand for comfort. “While your friend is alive, she’s also in a coma.”

Natasha fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “No!” she screamed in her shrill voice.

Vlad rubbed his wife’s shoulders and said, “She’s going to be okay.”

Natasha passed out. The nurses brought her smelling salts. They sat her in a chair in the waiting room. One of the orderlies brought her a chocolate ice cream. Natasha got up her gumption for the inevitable. Lena was her sister and there was no choice in the matter.

$.

Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 4

*see comment below for my thoughts on writing this installment

 

Hey, #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg – New Installment of MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 2

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 2

by Moctezuma Johnson

The Yeti was okay in jail. He’d been in jails before. He spent time in a Nepalese jail for a while. He met Bruce Wayne there, incidentally. Big fan. Bruce of the fucking yeti, that is. He was also in a North Korean jail for a while when he was making crystal meth. Barnacle Man, employed by the Kim family in the 80s caught the fucking yeti, that was his fifth time, and then dragged his whining pink ass (yes like an baboon) to the great Democratic People’s Republic of Korea [조선민주주의인민공화국 (朝鮮民主主義人民共和國)] where he taught the locals to make meth so the north could claim an income stream and keep up with the South who were doing the same with the help of GIs in the occupying US military. Anyway, it’s all very political and you don’t care, just trust me on this one key point, Barnacle Man has been a fucking thorn in the side of the Yeti for hundreds of years now. Thus he cock-ruddered up to the HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI and kicked the white motherfucking yeti’s pink behind (yes we missed this detail in the first two segments of the YETI, oh well, dear reader. Great catch!). Now the Yeti was chill, cooperative, and all he asked for, this “Mike” the Yeti, was a psychologist. No that’s not exactly the right word, a marriage counselor. According to the Yeti, he wasn’t trying to kill and villagers from any village outside of the Himalayas (the Himalayan Beef you will have to allow him for it’s been an ongoing tit for tat for thousands of years now). The counselor sat on a frozen log outside the cage where the Yeti was shackled. The Yeti had both of his arms pinned to the wall with two u-shaped shackled held together by big thick clevis pins. He wasn’t going anywhere. The counselor listened, nodded, and ooccasionallyjotted down notes. They spoke in Nepali. The HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI had employees capable of speaking just about every language on the planet. The Yeti, Mike was saying, was simply in a bad marriage and there was just something about Lena. Those tits! Those tits! They were just so milky! He growled with passion, with hunger, with desperation. Please bring her to me. Conjugal visits. Lactational visits. The counselor said, “I’ll see what I can do about that,” and left the Yeti fettered to the wall.

Vlad, Natasha, and Lena flew to their new apartment in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. They were free of the Yeti, leaving him chained to the wall.

“Come on, Lena, it’s been months. Forget about him already. Here give this waiter a blowjob already and move on. He keeps starting at your big, fat tits. Come on!”

Natasha mothered Lena a lot recently. Lena was despondent. Yeah, she could suck of the waiter, eat his cum, but it wouldn’t be any help. She’d still be dreaming of fucking Yeti. One more time in her life Lena realized she had fallen in love with the wrong Yeti.

On the Island, Yeti was making progress with the counselor. He never got any conjugal visits from Lena but they did bring the She-Yeti and it turns out that since he wanted more milk, he was pressuring the She-Yeti to get pregnant. She felt it was too much pressure and wanted him to quit his nagging. He needed to calm down about milk, she said. He’s fucking milk-obsessed. If he’d calm down I would conceive. I can’t conceive with all this pressure.

“I like Milk,” said the Yeti in Nepalese. “At least I know what I want.”He was thinking of big, Russian titties. Yum. Milky. Drippy. Satisfying. He nearly came just thinking about it. photo 4 (2)

The counselor left the Yeti’s and let them make love. Have you ever seen two Yeti’s going at it. Even when one is fettered to a wall, there is a lot of earth-shaking, avalanche-starting, and ear-drum rupturing. It was a great session. The she-yeti came with “Mike” holding her big Yeti ass up in the air and splitting her yeti-cunt in two. It was a brutal fucking. It let all the pent up resentment out. When he came he released all those bad feelings and actually felt calm again.

The counselor removed the clevis pins and allowed the Yetis to swim back to Nepal and live happily ever after. The cold slunk away, the snow turned into pretty lakes, rivers, and falls. The aquamarine returned to the island. The hotel mariachi came back out, pina coladas got poured, and hot girls in bikinis took to the pools again. Order was restored.

In Brighton Beach, Lena was sick to her stomach a lot and getting huge.

 

Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 3

Very short Preview

Lena’s mind was still alive but body was laying there dead. Machines, beeped, breathed, and clicked.  She was hooked to all kinds of wires. The YETI stood over her. He sighed.

After ejaculation his eyes glowed luminously. The color of the antumbra was brilliant pink and it did something to Lena’s body.

 

Hey, #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg – New Installment of MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 1

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 1

by Moctezuma Johnson

Alright, fuckers. I ate some sushi, chatted with July about her character Violet for a bit, told Callie I’m going to start Yeti fucking book 3, and then sat down and let this tsunami out of me. I assume it’s complete crap. I shit it out fairly easily. I’m hoping the painkillers I’m taking for nasty back pain is making me better than my normal shitty self. Hope so! I’m looking for quality. I mean, it’s Milked by the Yeti, where the trailer is good enough for xvideos.com. Hot! Err, cold, when it comes to Yetis, or does it? Find out where Book 3 starts. Are we still in Nepal? You know I’m nothing if I’m not a sucker for turning conventions on their heads (fuck I would have thrown in a female Jedi by Empire Strikes Back if somebody handed me the keys to Star Wars) so now we have enough “Milked by the Yeti” to actually have conventions to deconstruct. So let’s put on our bathing suits and start Milked by the Yeti, Book 3. Excelsior! Thanks for turning down the TV and giving this baby your full attention.

$.

Milked by the Yeti, Book 3, Part 1

“Jump in the pool with me, baby!” Natasha was in the pool sipping on a Pina Colada. Her blonde hair was wet. She was beautiful in her skimpy bikini. She was young Russian and alive. She’d gotten her friend back from the Yeti, she’d seen Barnacle Man’s massive schlong and she was here with her new husband and her best friend. Yes, the best friend was the husband’s ex-wife but they were young, hot and they could survive that. Lena looked at the sun and thought of the Yeti’s eyes. She felt him in her belly. She was sick with missing him. She ran for the pool, “okay, baby!” she yelled back at Natasha and jumped in. Underwater, Lena saw the white bottom of the pool and thought of the Yeti’s warm, cashmere fur. She wanted to be wrapped in him. She wanted to kiss him and get surrounded by his primal warmth. She missed him. She came up for

photo 2 (1)

Natasha – Lena’s Best Friend

breath and Natasha said, “Tongue out, baby!” in her Russian accent. Lena leaned her head back. Her nipples were underwater, but her cleavage was over the waves and basking in the sun in all their glory. Lena’s hair spread out over the water. Natasha poured the pina colada over her friend’s face. Lena lapped up what she could but it looked more like she’d taken a cumshot than that she was drinking a cocktail at the pool of this Cozumel resort. The day was hot. The ocean water was clean blue, emerald. They heard the Maya used to call that color yax in the old days. Now it was called emerald or aquamarine. Now these Russian whores and bestfriends, one in love with a Yeti still in Nepal somewhere, married to a She-Yeti, were enjoying their pampering at the hands of the staff of the Hotel Riviera Maya Ruski. The staff all spoke Russian, Mayan, English, and Spanish. That was Mexican hospitality. You could pay in just about any currency you wanted, but dollars (not pesos) were the default. Fucking gringos! The girls kissed each other. Lena liked kissing Natasha more than kissing anyone else in the world. She was so happy to have her friend back. She pushed her tongue up into Tasha’s mouth, then she left it there. Natasha worked her circular magic around her friend’s tongue. A bit of pina colada drooled out between them. Vlad watched and found himself very hard. He’d had the two girls many times but still got turned on by them. They were hot! They were sluts! They were his sluts! Lena opened her eyes and looked off into the distance.

“What?” Natasha said in her high-pitched voice. “Him still Enough!” she scolded in her high-cadence.

“I could have sworn I saw him out there.”

“Ha!” Natasha said. “Like he could swim here. And how would he even know you were here. Come on!” Her voice went up in intonation in each sentence, almost like she was asking a question, but she wasn’t. “Come on, baby!” Natasha said and pulled Lena’s tits out of the little bikini that they were dying to break out from.

“That’s it! All my girls out in the pool,” said Vlad. He reached and pulled his new wife’s tits out to join his old wife’s tits. “You girls are gor–” He stopped mid-sentence as this massive cloud shut out the sun’s rays.

It was suddenly cold.

The temperature was dropping quickly. The sounds changed. They no longer heard the relaxing ebb and flow of the waves but instead heard the high-pitched squealing of the wind. It was a nasty Arctic wind. Lena remembered that sound the first time she ever crossed paths with the fucking Yeti.

Her heart started to race. Butterflies took to her stomach. Her mouth went dry. She searched the surroundings which were changing from tropical aquamarine paradise to white, cold joy. Yeti-joy. She wanted to find him but all she saw was the once verdant mountain snow-capped and frigid. The sun was still shining. No. That wasn’t the sun. That was the fucking eyeball that mesmerized her. It was the Yeti. He shook is head and it was like a tsunami coming off of him. He had swum here. He was shaking is head like a dog who had just come out of a pool, except his shake sent small tidal waves around and everyone scattered looking for safe cover.

“It’s the fucking Yeti,” yelled Natasha. She grabbed Vlad by the hand and led him uphill. “I told you to bring the gun.”

“No more curséd guns, Tash.” He said while running. His voice still sounded calm and deep, the fucking Russian. So macho even in the face of Monster with a hard-on. “I can’t take another potential life from anybody.”

“Just run, you idiot!” she chided him. They ran to safely to safety. The yeti loomed so large the scene had not only gone cold, it had gone dark.

“What is it?” another bikini’d vacationer asked Vlad and Natasha.

“It’s a Yeti.”

“Does it bring snow everywhere it goes?” The vacationer was interested.

“I have no fucking idea…bitch.” Natasha had had enough of the bimbo and her yeti-questions. She was watching in horror as the Yeti held her best friend in his hand and commenced the milking of her giant milky udders. The Yeti drank Lena’s milk.

“That’s just wrong,” Bikini Bimbo said.

At this moment, a ship shot out of the water, it was ruddered by a giant cock. A man in a Vietnamese rice-picking hat covered in barnacle necklaces and sporting a cock at least two-storeys long and dripping wet from sea-captaining a vessel. He shot out of the water like a sub-human cannonball and then, from mid-air, aimed his harpoon at the fucking yeti who wasn’t facing him. “Hey, Mike!” yelled Barnacle Man and the yeti ignored him. Barnacle Man landed on the ground, still pointing the harpoon at the fucking yeti. “Hey, ‘Mike,'” yelled little Jackie Li and the yeti stopped drinking Lena’s milk and turned to face Barnacle Man and the harpoon. The yeti growled so loud that the Earth shook. The pool bottom cracked and all the water drained, leaving nothing but a few icicles hanging from the diving board.

Barnacle Man shot. Lena yelled, “No!” The Yeti whimpered and reached for his harpooned eye. The antumbra disappeared. The red was gone and it went glassy and started to look more like an opal. Lena’s heart broke. Those eyes. They were injured, by this little Asian fucking Gook Yeti-Harpooning Bastard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Barnacle ignored the milked sexpot and her bemoaning and chained the yeti’s hands. This little big-dicked fucker knew what the hell he was doing. It was no ordinary harpoon. It was alive and it punctured the yeti’s eye and then wrapped the rope and heavy chain attached to it around the yeti’s hairy wrists until he was bound and subdued.

The yeti had been captured.

The hotel staff either had excellent training as first responders or they had captured mythical beasts before because they came down to Barnacle Man, gave him a limonada (let Callie tell you about lemons and limes and how they got reversed when they made their way into English, don’t bother me with linguistics now, I’ve been trying to write this story in one fucking try, ok? Take it to chomsky or callie already! Yeah limón is the green one and lima is the yellow, okay? Happy now?) the green limeade with sugar and sparkling motherfucking water which the hungry Asian yeti-capturing sea-pirate chugged down while they hotel staff, in uniforms, very form-fitting I will say (perfect for a gangbang scene later), and carted the Yeti off to Mythical Creature jail at the top of the now snow-capped mountain.

End Part 1 – Book 3 of MILKED BY THE YETI

###

Previous Installments

Preview of Part 2 – Book 3 Milked by the Yeti

The Yeti was okay in jail. He’d been in jails before. He spent time in a Nepalese jail for a while. He met Bruce Wayne there, incidentally. Big fan. Bruce of the fucking yeti, that is. He was also in a North Korean jail for a while when he was making crystal meth. Barnacle Man, employed by the Kim family in the 80s caught the fucking yeti, that was his fifth time, and then dragged his whining pink ass (yes like an baboon) to the great Democratic People’s Republic of Korea [조선민주주의인민공화국 (朝鮮民主主義人民共和國)] where he taught the locals to make meth so the north could claim an income stream and keep up with the South who were doing the same with the help of GIs in the occupying US military. Anyway, it’s all very political and you don’t care, just trust me on this one key point, Barnacle Man has been a fucking thorn in the side of the Yeti for hundreds of years now. Thus he cock-ruddered up to the HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI and kicked the white motherfucking yeti’s pink behind (yes we missed this detail in the first two segments of the YETI, oh well, dear reader. Great catch!). Now the Yeti was chill, cooperative, and all he asked for, this “Mike” the Yeti, was a psychologist. No that’s not exactly the right word, a marriage counselor. According to the Yeti, he wasn’t trying to kill and villagers from any village outside of the Himalayas (the Himalayan Beef you will have to allow him for it’s been an ongoing tit for tat for thousands of years now). The counselor sat on a frozen log outside the cage where the Yeti was shackled. The Yeti had both of his arms pinned to the wall with two u-shaped shackled held together by big thick clevis pins. He wasn’t going anywhere. The counselor listened, nodded, and occassionally jotted down notes. They spoke in Nepali. The HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI had employees capable of speaking just about every language on the planet. The Yeti, Mike was saying, was simply in a bad marriage and there was just something about Lena. Those tits! Those tits! They were just so milky! He growled with passion, with hunger, with desperation. Please bring her to me. Conjugal visits. Lactational visits. The counselor said, “I’ll see what I can do about that,” and left the Yeti fettered to the wall.

STAY TUNED FOR THE CONCLUSION OF MILKED BY THE YETI Part 2Book 3 by Moctezuma Johnson

booyaka!

Milked By The Yeti Again, part 4 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Milked by the Yeti (Again) Part 4

By Callie Press

Thanks MJ! I knew the antumbra was inside, but I still had it wrong…go figger! MJ says, FUN FACT: I love supplying FUN FACTS. 

Part of my process is flaking out. Tonight I feel like reading comic books online more than writing, and I’m tired enough that I know I’ll feel like shit until I sleep. I guess I’m not as recovered as I thought. I can flake out though, it’s part of my own particular…what’s the word…idiom!

Anyhow, next time you see my words I’ll be wrapping it up! When you’re done here, go read my stuff on Amazon featuring Callie Press already. It’s Christmas, have a little mercy on me, buy something. [linky poo: http://j.mp/mjrcpp ] Stay tuned, true believers, this won’t be the last you see of some of these characters…!

LOL!

In Case you Need Some BackStory:

BOOK ONE by MJ
Installment 1 | Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4
BOOK ONE by CP
Installment 1Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4
^.^

Milked by the Yeti (Again) Part 4…The Conclusion!

Lena was awakened by the yeti’s hand grabbing her. The igloo interior had warmed enough that she could sleep, but when he reached inside it, his big-ass King Kong mitt shattered the whole structure and it came tumbling down around her. He was already pulling her out of it, so she just got a little icy snow in her hair.

It was morning. Early morning, so early that Lena would never be awake so early unless she had been up all night. The yeti didn’t give a hoot, he was awake and his massive yeti-cock was awake as well. Lena noticed his erection was big and jelly again. He must have still had his dander up to fight when he mounted her last time, which made his giant fuckstick stiff like a weapon. It seemed when he was DTF (that means down to fuck) it was Smucker’s-hard and not weapon-hard. Lena was relieved about this. When he was weapon-hard, he couldn’t get his stroke on without splitting her in half. She was too tiny. The last time, it made him very angry with her.

This morning, he had apparently fled Mrs. She-Yeti and her yeti-sized tits to apply his morning wood to Lena. Lena wondered how many other women he had stored in the little prison he had built and snatched her from.

The yeti brought her close to his face and sniffed, then plucked the nightshirt off her. All the fastened buttons popped off as he yanked it away and dropped it. She was naked and exposed to his fascinating, oddly lit eyes that made her swoon, and she found it very arousing. He held her in his enormous hand and grabbed her tits in the fingertips of his other hand, pulling her closer to his mouth as he squeezed and primed her massive bazooms for his drinking pleasure. She slid a hand down between her thighs and started to run her fingers up and down between her lips. He leaned forward and started to suck on her breasts. He took both of her enormous mammaries into his yeti mouth. Her perfect Russian tits were being suckled by the same unhygienic mouth she wanted to kiss to see if they had true love. Finally, she was being milked by the yeti again!

She shuddered as she felt milk flow. [Milk that her delectable young orbs wouldn’t even be producing if she was in real life and not the rough draft of a wank tale*, but you came here to see her get milked by the yeti again.] She felt her pussy grow moister and moister [some people think ‘moist’ is an ugly word, try ‘moister’ on for size] as he drank from her impeccable organic baby-bottles like an obscene Baby Huey covered in shag carpeting. He drank and drank, and drank some more. When he stopped drinking, it was only to breathe so he could drink again. He drank until she felt light-headed. He drank more milk than she was humanly capable of producing, because all bets are off when the fucking yeti is involved. When he leaned back and sighed, her tits popped out with a perfect quintuple-bounce, each bounce slightly less bouncy than the last, just like in the dirty Vines men save to their secret folders. She saw a little trail of her milk dribbling down his chin, so she knew he was full, because he was not drinking it.

He held her firmly in one strong hand and plopped backwards onto his big yeti ass in the snow. It flipped her tummy like driving over a hill too quickly, and she giggled. His huge jellyish yeti pecker was erect between his belly and hers, and she was still diddling herself. He lifted her up and shoved her at his cock with no attempt at subtlety and no thought for her pleasure. He missed and his fencepost-sized head butted up against her crotch and thighs. It was an ambiguous attempt at entering her, which is the worst kind of attempt at entering someone, especially if the enterer has an oversized cock (of jelly variety or non-jelly, either way). Lena was able to wiggle her hips enough to point his bright red yeti dickhead at her pussy, which was a serious relief. If he had ended up in the wrong hole, she thought it might kill her by twisting her guts around inside her, like a wooden spoon stirring a stock pot of borscht, if the borscht was being stirred by a hyperactive kid on meth. She at least knew it would hurt like a fucking bitch and probably leave her constipated for a month and that’s never something sexy to look forward to, so most people just don’t think about those things when they’re contemplating anal.

She felt ecstatic when his ridiculously big purplish-pink prick entered her. It filled her completely and stretched her magnificently, and she loved it. He cupped her round ass in his hands and bounced her up and down on his absurd babymaker. His hands were so big that he folded his fingers together and made a little seat for her to rest her perfect little Russian caboose on. She liked it better than a real sex swing, even though it gave a similar weightless, out-of-control feeling that made her gush and want to come.

She bounced on him faster and faster, and she grabbed his face and pulled him closer to try for her true love kiss. He didn’t know what she was doing so he didn’t let her move his face. He let out a little rumble that could have been a threat or a chuckle as she yanked his beard, she couldn’t tell which. She didn’t care either because she was so excited from his hands on her ass and his big cock splooshing and splurshing inside her tight, sopping wetness.

Lena was coming on the yeti’s big cock when she heard two sounds indicating that shit had gone nuts: the she-yeti’s angry roar, and the sound of a truck approaching quickly.

 

Vlad was driving like an idiot over the new-fallen snow coating the narrow little mountain path, Natasha in the middle between the two men. Jack Li was holding his rifle and tracking the yeti from the door seat.

“I know where I’ve seen you!” Natasha exclaimed suddenly. [fancy tags AND adverbs, squeeze all those sins in!] “You were Jackie Lee! Little Jackie Lee, the barnacle-boy from underground Asian porn movies!”

“No no,” he said nervously. “My name is not Jack Lee, it’s Jack Li. A common mistake.”

“Ohhhhh,” Natasha said.

“Didn’t you just say the same name twice?” Vlad asked.

“Little Jackie Lee had a two-foot cock,” Natasha said. “I was always very, very curious about him.”

He was underage when those movies were made!” Jack Li said. “You should never even have seen those! The government made him record those movies! He needed the money!” Then to Vlad, he said, “It sounds the same to, uh, untrained ears.”

“But aside from being older, you look just like him!” Natasha said.

“I see, we all look alike to you, is that it?” Jack said, glaring at her.

“No…um. No. My mistake,” Natasha said.160-horny-yeti-fucks-sexy-traveller.jpg

“But,” Vlad started, and Natasha backhanded his shoulder.

“Racial!” she hissed, and Vlad’s eyes opened and he shut up.

The tracks turned around a corner and suddenly they were staring at the little lake plateau with the stalagmites. Off in the distance on the surface of the lake, they saw the yeti’s back, sitting on the ground. He looked like a featureless snowdrift that was sort of wiggling rhythmically.

“There he is!” Jack Li said. Vlad hit the accelerator hard. The truck flew over the ice, barely controlled. At the same moment a howling, extended, angry roar pierced the sky.

“Two of them!” Vlad said.

“Oh shit, there it is!” Natasha said, pointing off the right at the she-yeti, who was in a lumbering run toward the fucking yeti sitting on his buttocks. “It must be his mate!”

They were still several hundred feet away from the sitting yeti. They saw perfectly as he stood up and turned toward them, holding Lena’s naked body in one hand, his massive purple erection swinging around before him like a saber, dripping his silvery ejaculate onto the ice. Lena was leaking cum and had that same stupid look on her face as she had when they saw her fall under the spell of his eyes.

The yeti looked at the rapidly approaching she-yeti. He extended Lena in his arm, then punted her like a football. She flew an unbelievable distance very quickly. She rose to ludicrous heights as she sailed like a bullet to the shore. Vlad, Natasha, and Jack Li all three watched as she flew right over the truck and landed at the edge of the lake.

“Go get her!” Jack Li said. He yanked his parka off and put it in Natasha’s lap. “Use this for her,” he said as he opened the door and made a rolling leap out. Under his parka, the red breather that had been in front of his mouth was revealed as just the tip of an enormous, telescoping codpiece that had been hugged to his chest. As Natasha watched him roll, a crusty covering grew from his crotch to quickly cover his entire body from the neck down.

Vlad jerked the wheel hard and spun around to save Natasha. Jack Li got a hard running start, then threw himself face-down onto the lake, zipping across it on his red armored codpiece like his dick was a sled named Rosebud. In no time he was there, face to face with the yeti, and their cocks had barely crossed in battle before the she-yeti arrived on the scene.

Jack Li worked his hips to send his increasingly long cock (which explains why the codpiece telescopes) at the Yeti, simultaneously bolting a bullet into his rifle and firing at him. He shot the yeti and missed. Instead of hitting him in his big white yeti face, he only nicked his big white yeti ear.

Mrs. Yeti hit Jack Li with one of her own ham-sized mitts and he tumbled backwards onto the ice, skidding a few feet before he tried to shake it off.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Vlad were helping butt-ass naked Lena to her feet, then into the coat. She saw the melee across the lake and, as bruised and beat up as she was, still cried, “Vlad! Stop them!”

Vlad looked up and saw the she-yeti send Jack Li flying. He ran to the truck and got his rifle out. He leaned over the warm hood of the truck, lined the sights carefully at the yeti’s center of gravity, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet flew directly at Jack Li’s armored codpiece that was standing up like a giant Devo hat.

“Damn this curse!” Vlad exclaimed, lining up the sights even more carefully at the yeti. The she-yeti was trying to drag him away, so they were standing fairly still. The yeti kept looking between the she-yeti and Jack Li, not knowing what to do. It gave Vlad a chance to take even more careful aim.

“Please guide my aim, gods of my fathers!” Vlad whispered under his breath as he squeezed the trigger again. The bullet went nowhere near where physics demanded it should go, once again knocking Jack Li’s codpiece swaying like a lifebuoy during a tsunami.

“Third time’s the charm!” he said to himself, aiming again.

Natasha grabbed his elbow and pulled him off the hood of the truck. “Stop, you’re going to hurt him! Quit shooting Jack’s dick and shoot the fucking yeti!”

“I aimed at the yeti every time!” he yelled. “I told you I don’t like guns! It’s the curse!”

“Well then just get her in the truck,” Natasha said, disgusted. “I will go save Jack Li.”

As she started trotting her fine Russian booty across the snow, her long blonde hair bouncing in slow motion like this was some kind of fucked up beer commercial, the she-yeti managed to bully the yeti into running away before her. In no time their long yeti legs put them on the horizon, then they disappeared.

“Are you ok?” Natasha asked Jack Li.

“Why did you shoot my dick?” Jack Li asked. “It hurt even through the armor!”

“You ARE Little Jackie Lee, the barnacle-boy, aren’t you? I will keep your secret.” She helped him to his feet and he leaned on her as they walked.

“It is true. Jack Li is my alter-ego. In truth, my secret identity is Jackie Lee, now the Barnacle Man. I need you to keep my secret, so I don’t have to kill you and everyone you love. So thank you, I hate doing that.”

“No problem,” Natasha said.

It was a long drive down the mountain with two wounded, but they got back to camp soon enough. Vlad had proven the curse of the cock shot, Natasha had saved her friend, Jack Li had kept his secret identity secret (for the most part) and been cockshot twice, and Lena had been milked by the yeti again.

 

EPILOGUE.

Natasha sat between Lena and Jack Li, and Vlad sat opposite her, also between Lena and Jack Li. They were huddled around a fire in a big yurt someone had hastily arranged for them. It was cozy, but they were still dressed warmly, as they had been in and out throughout the day except Lena. She had just been resting.

“My friend,” Vlad said to Jack Li, “I must tell you of my family curse. My bullets only hit in male sexual organs, and I have shot you in your manhood. Because of the curse I can guarantee: you will never have children.”

Jack Li shrugged, and unzipped his parka to the center of his chest. He pointed at his massive telescoping codpiece. “Do I look like I was ever going to have children? Human children? We are friends now Vlad, do not worry. Lena, how do you feel? You were punted quite thoroughly.”

“Oh, I’m better,” she said. “Something about getting milked by the yeti seemed to agree with me, I’m hardly bruised.”

Natasha leaned on her in a half-hug, then leaned on Jack Li in the same way. “Well, now that the adventure is over, what say we have a small orgy?”

Vivek stuck his head in the flap. He was still charred and his glorious mustachios were burnt down to a little Hitler-stache, but his eyes were bright and his turban was impeccable. “I am agreeable to a small orgy!”

“Yes,” Jack Li said, “And tomorrow we will take you to the Yeti milking-camp where I hastily buried poor Radika’s corpse in the snow.”

“Make sure the flap is shut securely though,” Lena said as Vivek entered and started immediately shucking his silky, colorful robes off. “I’m tired of being cold.”

Everyone started stripping themselves and each other. Natasha was fascinated by Jack Li’s codpiece, holding the end of it and scoping it out and back. It seemed to have no limit to how far it could go, and it was always almost as wide as his chest. Vlad and Vivek were gingerly undressing Lena, who was still quite bruised up no matter what she said, but luckily had no broken bones, which was almost a miracle. She could take quite a beating, at least when she was under the yeti’s spell.

Lena was having her first taste of Vivek’s uncut, brown cock, Vlad was squeezing his wife’s naked ass with one hand as he started to ride Lena doggy style. Simultaneously, Natasha said, “How do I get this damn armor off?” to Jack Li as she was trying to get his cock out while he was fondling her bare tits. As soon as these words left her mouth, three men rushed into the yurt, clubbed Jack Li over the head with what looked like a piece of firewood, and drug him away. By the time anyone could get around to look out the flap, there was no trace of them, and Jack Li, or Jackie Lee, was gone.

“That was unexpected,” Vlad said.  Vlad was still slowly fucking Lena from behind.

“Indeed it was, who will help me find my Radika now?” Vivek asked. Lena was still sucking his cock.

“She’s at the first camp,” Natasha said, putting Vivek’s hand on her naked pussy. “We will take you. Poor Jackie, I hope he is ok.”

“He will be fine,” Lena said, finally letting Vivek’s growing cock out of her mouth. “All things considered, this could have ended worse.”

“So true,” Natasha said, leaning down to take a turn sucking Vivek as Lena held his cock out to her.

 

###

So ladies and gentleman, we wrap up Book 2 of MILKED BY THE YETI as such. Stay tuned, true believers for more YETI and more MILKING.

If you don’t know, now you now.

Read more Callie Press Smutpunk on Amazon

NOTES:

*a one wank wonder, like a pop song [[[without spoiling any future parts, I think that time is a bit nebulous in Nepal and her lactating is more plausible than a certain author thinks]]

FUN FACT (I’m not saying you didn’t notice, but nor am I saying you did know this. I sure didn’t. Shame on me!):

JackLiCodpieceBarnacleManCalliePressMoctezumaJohnson.png

Excerpt of I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG

From the Confessions of a Whore Trilogy – This scene from Book 1 takes place somewhere in Anytown, USA

 

Neil was munching on a green tea ice cream out of the cup and I was eating an ice pop called Vanilla Quickie from a company called “Lil’ Sugar.”

Neil was staring at me, so I gave him a show. I held the red berry ice pop up to my mouth. My lips were parted, and my tongue was slightly out. Like Lenny, I looked like I was panting from the heat. He was panting cause of the sun, but me, no, it was different. I was hungry for a big, hard cock. In my mind, I was getting it. I was panting as I brought the big, dripping ice pop toward by open mouth. I licked from the very bottom of the shaft all the way to the top while staring into Neil’s eyes. As I repeated this full-length lick while holding the stick at the base I craned my head left and right. Then I put the tip in my mouth and sucked on it. It was so cold against my lips. My hot tongue melted the frozen cream. I pulled it out, “Yum!” I said.  The cream was sweet and tasty.

“You’re too much,” he answered.

“Am I?” I taunted him. I shoved the entire length of the thing into my mouth until the ice pop disappeared into the back of my throat. Only the stick was hanging out from my closed lips. I stared at Neil and he looked annoyed. I put on my sad puppy eyes and then pulled the length of it back out of my mouth. In a sweet baby voice I said, “Baby wishes she had something bigger and harder to suck on.”

“Baby!” Neil chided me. He looked down into his ice cream. “Come on, you’re not a whore!”

Vanilla Quickie

Something about this “Vanilla Quickie” ice cream changed me

I laughed. “Okay, you’re no fun, you know that?”

I ate “properly” the rest of the way, peering out at the boring, quaint town of South Pampton. We strolled home, slowly. Lenny was still panting. I looked down at him understandingly. I had been bitten. It was done. Between the hunk whose hands never touched me, the ice pop, and the nasty feeling in my gut, I had to do something.

I tried to let this feeling pass. It just wouldn’t go away. I would be at the supermarket in the aisle with the chocolate syrup and imagine the stock boy spraying it all over my chest. I would be reading a book in the bookstore and want to rip off my clothes and finger myself right there with the book resting on my pelvis.

While with Neil in the copy shop I wanted to be railed by the automaton making a photo copy of one of his geek achievements, something or other about being the Renegade Music Pirate of the Year or something I didn’t care about. All the machines pounded in their robotic, repetitive back and forth. It was too much for me. I wanted to be railed by an automaton. I wanted a fucking machine to do me over and over again until I was trembling. I was jealous of the sex life of a room full of copy machines. I mean, I was so aroused by all this copying that I would have let R2D2 finger me with his gyroscope thingy that plugs in and cracks imperial codes while C3PO diddled my ass with his gold-tipped toe.

That night I went for a bike ride. I rode to Lorna Morris’ house. Her boyfriend was in the back fixing a broken outdoor table umbrella. The shaft was stuck in through the hole of an outdoor table and jammed stuck in the base. I imagined the solid wood shaft of the umbrella going in and out of the hole in the table. Everything was sexy. I was wet. Not damp. Wet. Unbearably wet. Everything was sex.

Inside, I saw Lorna adding the last bits of clothes to the laundry basket.

I sat on the washing machine and spread my legs. I moved to the dryer, which was shaking like a lucky girl getting cunnilingus. I felt the shake and the warmth and inched that much closer to climax. When Lorna came in and saw me legs spread on her bucking machine she threw the basket to the ground. The dirty clothes spilled out everywhere. She got down and let her amazing tongue relieve the pussy-ache. She worked magic on my swollen clit. Tongue, lips, teeth, everything she did felt great. The machine buzzed and whirred to a shaky cataclysmic stop. It vibrated. Lorna licked. She fingered. She teased. My orgasm built and built and built some more.

I was on the verge of squirting across the room. Her boyfriend burst in, I guess he’d heard the buzz, and seeing him and his bulging muscles sent me over the edge. I grabbed the shelf above me so hard I dislodged it from the wall. As I came, I got showered in cascading fabric softener sheets. “So you finally seduced her, Lorn,” her boyfriend said. He walked back out, leaving the laundry room door wide open.

I rode back home feeling the bicycle seat under me. My sex was pushing against the seat like I was neatly in the right place. Orgasm had cleared my thoughts. I was calm. I knew what I had to do.

(continue reading I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor)

Milked By The Yeti Again, part 3 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Milked by the Yeti (Again) part 3

by Callie Press

A behind the scenes look at Callie’s process and then installment 3 of MILKED BY THE YETI. Natch!

So I looked over the other parts and analyzed my work in the ‘literary’ sense. (Yeah, believe it or not, I have some education.) But that’s for me to know and you to figure out yourself! MJ seemed to find it amusing that I was taking this seriously. So I feel like I need to say, I’m not taking the story seriously, just my craft! Rough drafts are hideous so I desperately try to make my first shot read like a final draft once all my notes get cut out. Hemingway sentences are part of make-up, but I do tend to stick eight or nine of them together with commas and such sometimes. I don’t mind having more than one idea in a sentence, if it flows well (to me). MJ wouldn’t hear of me admitting I have flaws though, and I have to admit he has a point. I’m ok as-is!

Oh and I’m adding this paragraph as I come back to it to restart. Had a several-hours-long break on this installment, the other 2 were written in one frantic sitting each. Today was hectic and more than a little painful, kinda pushed it too much too soon. Oh well!

So I guess…’nuff said! Here’s part 3!

BOOK ONE Installment 1 | Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4

BOOK ONE Installment 1Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4

 

 

Callie’s Milked by the Yeti (Again)

The fucking Yeti took Lena up, up, up where the air was thin. It was a greater distance than before. They came to a large plateau surrounded on all sides by ascending mountain faces. A lake had gathered in this level valley. Everything was white except the bluish ice. Around the edges and even farther out, actually on the lake, were strange, enormous stalagmites. They were also white from the snow, just as the ground and the surrounding mountains. Lena could not look anywhere that did not appear white. She could discern the stalagmites and trees by flecks of color where the snow was thinner, either stone or wood. It was pretty in that Christmas way that only makes you happy when you’re seeing it from inside a warm car or from beside a roaring fireplace.

It was too damn cold for Lena to care how pretty all the white was. All she could think about was the nagging worry that the Yeti, who she was pretty sure she was in love with, would fuck her and milk her and kick her ass down the mountain again. Damn Vlad anyhow for putting that thought in her mind! She knew she could make the Yeti love her. Dogs always liked her, even mean ones, so she knew the Yeti would come around. He would change for her, because this had to be true love.

Suddenly she knew how to make him love her, and why he didn’t already. True love takes a passionate kiss! She determined to make him kiss her as soon as possible.

But then she remembered all the men and women she had kissed for whom she felt no love. Had they wanted her to love them? And her other favorites, Natasha and Vlad—she had certainly shared those true-love spit-swaps with them. What if the Yeti was too much? Was she even worthy of this massive, muscled beast and his leg-sized member’s love? She wasn’t trying to have a harem. Maybe she had used up all the true love a person deserves. Maybe she could never work with anyone except Natasha or Vlad or both of them, even though marriage was a thing of the past.

She got sick of her introspection right as the Yeti hit the edge of the frozen lake, which is right about the time I got sick of writing it. [That’s the kind of shit I edit out the most. MJ says, right at the time I got sick of editing it] The Yeti took a few running steps and posed. His feet hit the ice like skates, one leg forward, the other supporting the bulk of his weight. With very little wobbling or adjusting, they skidded way too god damn quickly across the ice. They were aimed at a stagmite that was busted off halfway up, which rapidly grew as they flew right the fuck at it, covering probably a mile in under a minute. He was skating faster than 20 li () per hour, faster than sixty miles per hour, faster than 97 kilometers per hour; like I said, way too god damn quickly to rely on nothing but Yeti-pads for traction. The stalagmite had been distant so Lena thought it was small, but it was higher than the Yeti when they smacked into it. He grabbed a little handle made of ice on the top of the stalagmite that seemed to exist expressly for the intention of slowing a skate-racing Yeti. He must have fashioned this himself, Lena thought.

They whirled completely around the stalagmite and the Yeti’s body took the brunt of the blow. He lifted his other arm, the one she was in, and timed it perfectly so that when he hit the wall of the stalagmite with his chest and legs, she flew into a hollow on top of it. She rolled on the floor-like surface and hit the back wall, which was just part of the protrusion that had been left to rise higher. The inside of the open-skied, hollowed out stalagmite was a large, snow-covered room. She was cold again.

She could see the Yeti had made an igloo in one corner of the floor here. Since she was bare ass naked and now covered in snow, a little protection from the elements would go a long way. The cold was already getting to her extremities, and even her ass, which had been toasty in the crook of his elbow. She hoped she wouldn’t get frostbite on her extremities, since she had more extremities showing now than ever. She knew this setup was clever because no wind reached her. Since it was too high up to jump from, she was in a kind of little prison.

She was impressed at his cunning and his hands-on skill at making things. It was manly to do, and it implied intelligence to make one’s own tools, like the great ape he surely was. He had made a home for her out of the stalagmite. He built everything without even knowing what duct tape was. She turned to face him and looked into the black field and the dazzling, multi-hued shades-of-red backdrop around his eyes. [And only for a moment did she wonder, ‘Why was this the other way around in the last installment? Can we get a continuity edit?’ Yes, Lena. If we were taking this seriously, you betcha. I had the eyes as “antumbra”, and i’m not even sure I knew what that meant! Sometimes I write a word and then look it up later to find out if I’m right or not.]

Lena climbed achingly to her feet, still a bit shaken by how hard he had tossed her into the makeshift room. She walked toward his big face at the edge of her little prison house. She was cold. She didn’t like it, but at least he was warm. She could warm up if he let her. Even coming closer to him made her warmer, both inside and outside. His eyes had the passionate heat of a volcano that set her aflame in her bald Russian nethers, and brought her big adorable nipples to diamond-hard nubs.

His eyes widened as he saw her nipples enflame and a grin split his big white fucking yeti face. His poor-to-middling teeth shone yellow and brown under the white shag that grew right up to his yeti lips. He reached up and helped himself to her enormous bare breasts with his big white yeti fingers, squeezing and kneading as he had the last time he milked her. Lena knew that she was moments away from being milked by the yeti again.

She smiled back at him and rubbed his face with her hands, moving closer to bring her breasts to his mouth, when a huge roar sounded from far to her left. It was another yeti! His eyes bulged and he inhaled loudly, clearly stunned at the sound. He leaped back a step, completely out of her reach, almost dislodging her from her perch. When he did, she saw that Vlad’s shirt was stuck to the yeti’s hip. The yeti noticed it too, and grabbed it quickly, tossed it onto the floor of her prison, and ran off in the direction of the yell.

Lena could see that way by poking her head beyond the perimeter of the stalagmite wall. Sure enough, after peering hard for a few minutes, she made out another yeti in the distance. She heard another roar and saw her yeti pick up the pace to reach the other yeti.

The other yeti, with yeti-sized tits. A she-yeti.

She saw him approach the she-yeti with his shoulders slumped and his head down. The she-yeti barked in his face and cuffed his head, and he walked ahead of her defeated until they disappeared from Lena’s view.

Lena put the shirt on and went inside the igloo, cold and alone, waiting for her body heat to permeate the isolated air inside. She was sad and cold. Her yeti, her love, had a wife.

Where did that leave Lena? She didn’t have a clue. She was clueless. Literally clueless. Any hint as to what would happen to her would have made it better, because that would at least have been a clue. She sat there, clueless in the cold, and tried to figure out something that could pass for a clue. She didn’t even have a clue about what would pass for a clue.

The igloo felt less cold after her tail-chasing thoughts had gone on for a few hours. She slept.

 

Vlad and Natasha watched from inside the truck. They were parked in a little grotto of trees and shrubs not far from where they had found Lena and the yeti last time.

“I don’t like this, Natasha,” Vlad said for probably the twentieth time. “It’s been almost 2 hours.”

“Yes, you keep saying.”

“If they got here before us, they’re already in the cave!” he said.

“You passed them, you idiot, we saw him run by with Lena long before we got here, across that gulch,” she said, smiling at him and cupping his cheek.

“What if he wasn’t bringing her here?” he said.

“What, you think he has many houses? He’s a simple beast, I doubt he juggles multiple homes.”

“What if that cave wasn’t his home? He could be smarter than you give him credit for. Maybe it was just one of many milking-caves. A hunt camp.”

“Oh I’m so sick of this conversation,” she exhaled. “’Milking caves.’ Uck. What do you want to do?”

“We should check the cave to be sure, then we should back track to the gulch and find a way across. We should be able to find his tracks, he’s the size of a house.”

She threw one long, slender hand up, then opened the door. “Bring the gun,” she said.

He grabbed a bolt-action rifle from the back seat. “I don’t like guns,” he said, scowling as he slung it over his shoulder.

“I know you don’t,” she said. “And yes, I know why you don’t like guns. But you can’t seriously believe you’re under a curse.”

They met in front of the truck and walked on, Natasha slightly in the lead and to his right.

“You’ve seen it happen, Natasha.”

“Coincidence. Besides, you don’t know if it’s a curse or not. They would have to tell you.”

Her thigh-high boots and his combat boots crunched the deep snow. It was cold. There was only a little breeze.

“No, it’s a curse,” he answered firmly. “My family has a long history of prophets and mystics. My Grand-Mama knew her shit.”

“Then it’s not much of a curse on you. Shut up about it now please, darling. If they’re in there, they’ll soon be able to hear us.” Vlad and Natasha were near the edge of the cave entrance. They noticed a flickering light emanating from the cave entrance onto the snow.

“I already hear you,” said a heavily accented male voice. “I’m armed, stop where you are. Why are you here?”

“We’re looking for our friend, Lena,” Natasha said. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Might we come inside and talk? It’s cold out here,” Vlad said.

There was a silent moment, then the man said, “It’s ok. Come in slowly.”

They did. They saw an Asian man in a parka sitting on a trunk-like suitcase in front of a small fire. His hood was down and he had the rifle aimed at them, but resting across his knees. Coming out of the neck of the parka was a breather of some kind, made of what looked like red plastic.  It was a triangle, like a pyramid with one edge directly down the middle facing out perfectly in line with the parka zipper.

“Come, sit,” he said, motioning them in. The three of them likewise made the points of a triangle around the Asian man’s small fire.

“I am Jack Li,” the man said. “I know you two, from the camp. You are friends with the woman who was milked by the yeti.”

“He took her again today,” Natasha said, peering at Jack intensely. “Jack Li. Do I know you? You look so familiar.”

He squirmed. “No, I’m sure you don’t. You must have just seen me around camp. I was waiting for the yeti to return so I could defeat him. I left as soon as you got your friend back to camp safely. I’ve hunted three yetis before this, so I know about yetis. He was not here when I arrived earlier today. I have been here most of the day awaiting his return. If he had come back here, I would have been waiting for him. The yeti did not bring Lena here after he took her again. This must be just a milking cave.”

“I told you,” Vlad said.

“We will have to backtrack to the gorge, then,” Natasha said. “Will you come with us, Jack Li? We saw them across a gorge.”

“I will come,” he answered. “But we should rest here. We can easily catch up tomorrow, with your truck. Their stamina is remarkable, but even a yeti can’t keep up the pace like a truck. Tracking him will be easier in the light, but only because we have a new moon tonight. We will depart at first light.” He stood and produced three blankets from the trunk he was sitting on, handing them one each. He wrapped the other around himself and said, “I’ll take first watch.”

“What do you think?” Vlad said.

“What do you think?” Natasha said.

He pondered a moment, then said, “We’d be warmer if we share our blankets and body heat.”

“Very true,” Natasha said, and that was that. They were a team, at least for now. Nothing would stop them from saving Lena from the fucking yeti tomorrow.

###

FUN FACTS:

 

YetiEyes-Antumbra-black-in-red

 

The li (Chinese: , , or 市里, shìlǐ), also known as the Chinese mile, is a traditional Chinese unit of distance. The li has varied considerably over time but was usually about a third as long as the English mile and now has a standardized length of a half-kilometer (500 meters or 1,640 feet). This is then divided into 1 500 chi or “Chinese feet”.

The character combines the characters for “field” (, tián) and “earth” (, ), since it was considered to be about the length of a single village. As late as the 1940s, a “li” did not represent a fixed measure but could be longer or shorter depending on the effort required to cover the distance.[1]

There is also another li (Traditional: , Simplified: , ) that indicates a unit of length 1/1000 of a chi, but it is used much less commonly. This li is used in the People’s Republic of China as the equivalent of the centi- prefix in metric units, thus limi (厘米, límǐ) for centimeter. The tonal difference makes it distinguishable to speakers of Chinese, but unless specifically noted otherwise, any reference to li will always refer to the longer traditional unit and not to either the shorter unit or the kilometer. This traditional unit, in terms of historical usage and distance proportion, can be considered the East Asian counterpart to the Western league unit.

 

FUN RUMOR:

Jack Li may be the infamous two-foot-cockBarnacle Man“. Whether this is true or not has been confirmed as true but it has also been denied.

Milked By The Yeti Again, part 2 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Milked by the Yeti (Again), Part 2

By Callie Press

A behind the scenes look at Callie’s process and then installment 2 of MILKED BY THE YETI below with some beats/scribbles/callie-stuff at the end

See, writing is almost always a stream of consciousness thing with me. That’s why I can go really fast when I do. None of the ‘work’ is in rough drafts for me, it’s all in fixes. Writing is rewriting, that kind of shit. Luckily, the closer my roughs come to firsts, the better off I am, and the closer my firsts come to finals, the better off I am (everybody knows that). I use this little system hubby taught me in my editing days (which he used and still uses for editing as well). I posted a blog on writer’s block that mostly explains it, but the nuts and bolts are, when I’m ‘working,’ I am writing. If I am not writing, I am typing. I never run out of ideas. I can’t keep up with them. You’re the same way whether you know it or not. Keep typing when you can’t write, let your mind wander to wherever it wants to go, daydream and write down your daydreams, just set them aside in BOLD BRACKETS [Like this] because it makes them easier to spot and cut out once you move out of typing and into writing.

In part 1, and in this part (mostly), and in anything you ever see from me, you don’t see pure rough draft. Ever. First draft is the pure rough draft with all those bold bracket comments removed, so it is the rough draft, it’s just minus my writing baggage and my thinking baggage and my emotional or physical pain that’s going on, if any. Rough draft is the mess I make in my document when I start something. The first draft is after I cut away all the shit and put it aside and have something left that looks like it could be a story or a chapter or a section or a scene or a vignette or what-have-you.

And now, Milked by the Yeti (Again) returns to you already in progress!

 

###

Callie’s Milked by the Yeti

“Lena!” cried Vlad as Lena receded from their grasp. “Fight him! It’s as if he thinks he can discard you, and take you back whenever he wants!” People were screaming now in the tent, and trying to find the staked-down bottom edges so they could escape the clinging flames. Vivek was unconscious atop it.

The Yeti slung Lena over his shoulder and turned away. He ran off toward the woods at the foot of the mountain, but as they watched, he disappeared. His fur and hide had the power of illusion in the Himalayan snow as well as any 9th level Wizard who hadn’t specialized him- or herself out of the school of illusion magic.

The shaggy mountain held Lena in the crook of his massive, strong arm as if she were sitting in a chair covered with the flowing, downy silk of his fur. The wind was cold in her face, but she was warmed by his inner furnace. She was angry. She wasn’t as angry as she should have been, because his fur was so warm and soft to her delicate senses. Now and again she would look up at him, about to tell him to take her back. Every time she would see those bewitching pinholes—the red antumbrae of his huge, dark eyes—and become ensorcelled anew.

She was looking into his eyes even as he fell head-first into the snow. He had arched his back and landed on his forehead. His knees were on the ground and this turned his enormous body into a cave, where Lena had his forearm for a bench. He wiggled his head and shoulders so that his left shoulder became snow-covered with his head resting on it. His right shoulder was raised and away from his face enough to leave a small gap so air and light could get in. His face was inside this cave, but upside-down and a little sideways to Lena. She saw him looking at her.

Those eyes…she could not understand the spell his eyes put on her. She felt like a hippie adolescent girl getting a first look at Peter Frampton, although Lena couldn’t possibly know anyone had ever felt that exact feeling in 1977, which was long before the buxom young Russian prostitute had been born. Her nipples ached in arousal the longer she sat in the warm cave just staring into his freaky, big-ass monster peepers.

She heard some pursuit, villagers who had seen the attack and pursued (at a safe distance). They passed them right by, and right as Lena thought to call out to them, the Yeti made a little “Shh” sound and locked eyes with her again.

She looked into those red dots, so enchanting and kindly. How could she betray him? They would surely shoot him, even though he hadn’t harmed her yet this time. She couldn’t bear the thought of that, even though she doubted a few bullets would do much besides piss of this living monolith of adaptation. But she didn’t even want him pissed off as his magical eyes did their thing to her, as we have gone on about at length already. You get it, right?

Then she noticed he was staring at her bosom. All she had on was one of Vlad’s button-down shirts she had borrowed. After getting her ass kicked down the mountain and being rescued, she wanted to go straight to bed. It was a little less than mid-thigh on her and her enormous breasts pushed it out and snugged it up on her round, two perfect handfuls of ass cheek as well. She looked hot like a sexy young Russian prostitute ought to look and her abductor had finally noticed, probably because her tits were too big for the shirt, and her nipples were hard in spite of the warmth in the hidey-hole he created.

As the Yeti’s enormous until bumped her elbow, the only thing that haunted Lena were Vlad’s last words to her. “It’s as if he thinks he can discard you, and take you back whenever he wants!” These words troubled Lena as she unbuttoned the button down and the Yeti grinned, showing unappealing teeth that had never been seen by any dentist, nor even an elf who would one day be a dentist. This concept stuck in her mind as she dropped the sexy man-shirt and got on all fours in the little cave under his chest and pelvis. Vlad’s worrisome sentiment niggled at her brain as she pushed her wet, naked, tiny pussy up against the ham-sized head of his abominable cock. She heard “he thinks he can discard you!” as the roof of her snowman-tent started drilling its giant pecker into the ridiculously tiny knothole of her wanton cunt.

She took him inside her the best she could, which was the same kind of nuisance and glory as it had been the last time he fucked her, so you can just remember that time for those details. He was clever enough not to get his stroke on really well. Random Asians in parkas kept coming close and walking around. The Asians in parkas kept calling her name in their varied accents as they walked right past the little airhole by his shoulder. They were of several nationalities, although all of their parkas were identical.

The little nudges the Yeti-yurt made, as he merely stretched her lips beyond the point of childbirth with no significant penetration, drove her crazy. “Oh Yeti,” she moaned, staring into his eyes. He gave her a couple inches in and out, slowly, and he moved the enclosed arm she had been using for a seat. First he laid a finger across her lips to shush her, then he groped the nearest huge, pale, milky Russian titty he could reach.

“Oh Yeti,” Lena said, “I’m going to come on your big furry Yeti dick!”

The yeti shrugged and Lena started to shudder, coming on his big furry Yeti dick. The beast himself just kept moving his hips what little motion the Asians in parkas wouldn’t notice. It was obvious to Lena that the abominable monster wanted to be deeper, which only excited her shivering, overstretched fuckhole even more.

The creature’s eyes locked with hers again. She was only just starting to come down from the high of orgasm when she knew he was displeased with her. As sudden as a wet towel to the ass, his formerly bench-hand gripped her about the waist and he stood up to his full height. She slipped off his cock with an audible pop and he roared.

Three or four Asians in parkas stood nearby, too terrified to even remember they were holding bolt-action rifles. Bolt-action rifles are easier to use with mittens. That’s not true, I don’t think. But you can imagine how it makes a kind of sense, until you really think about it much. They didn’t know either way.* In any case, they had bolt-action rifles, but they forgot about them when the Yeti emitted his earth-shaking, pissed off and horny roar.

The Yeti was full-blown DTF. That means down to fuck. He was blaming Lena, for his frustration, at the shallow penetration, in their former situation. He was good and aroused, but bitchy as hell all of a sudden in that way you can only get when sex is annoying you for some reason. He roared until all of the Asians in parkas ran away toward their mountain camp, and then he finally started eating up the ground with his long-legged Yeti run.

He was taking her back to his home on the mountain. She was scared, and her face was cold again though her butt was warm, and she was also strangely happy. Especially when they did the eye contact thing.

“Oh Yeti,” Lena said sadly. “I can’t fall in love with you. I can’t. I can’t!”

He aimed his antumbrae right into her pupils as he kept taking big clumsy yeti-run steps up the steep slope of the mountain, turning and climbing unexpectedly as needed.

“But I already have…” Lena whispered to herself as she swam in his sensual eyes. “Fucking Yeti!”

He kept working up the mountain, cradling her in one herculean arm, as the sun started to set.

 

Beats / Scribbles? / Callie-shit in brackets:

*I don’t either. In subsequent drafts, I would either look it up and make the statement, and/or cut all of this shit. To be honest, in other first drafts, I have brackets that I cut out which contains the irrelevant stuff that hits me in the zone, like this since it’s coming right now more than her getting off on the yeti pecker: [oh here’s a bit of a snippet for the Sarcashmo/Queen Kegel first story, she says “Hello, Sarcashmo, or is it Saint Semen this time?” and he says “San Esperma!” and she all cute and sexy says, “Oooh, how rootsy!” and you can bet this or something like it will turn up sooner or later, in this case, sooner] [Hey I promised first draft, this is what I have to live with, one time won’t hurt you any. I’ll cut the rest of them out before I give it to MJ for dissemination, don’t worry]

From MJ: so Callie says, to whom I do not know, and then gives it all to me like one sizzling quark that I am not sure I can handle safely without blowing up the universe. I get quark-tongs, jump into my protective suit, man the robot armor, and do my best.