Epilogue – Book 3 Milked by the Yeti

Epilogue

by Moctezuma Johnson

Well, as Lena feared the Yeti got to have his way with her. It took a while for her to learn how to take his entire yeti-penis inside of her, but she did. She was better off being on top of him that way she could control how much of him she was taking. At first it was pain on par with childbirth, not that she was conscious for hers. Then it was pain and pleasure mixed. It led her to orgasms of which she had previously only dreamed. The yeti was the king of the sexual jungle, no doubt.

Then her worst fears came true. As much as the yeti had obsessed over her, and her milky titties, she woke up one morning and her breasts felt different. She cupped one of her magnificent titties and it was softer, lighter. The yeti grabbed Lena and had a kneading session and then a quick suck but was upset to find that there was no milk left. The following day he sucked again in the morning and found them devoid of milk one more time. On day three, when her tits turned out to be done producing milk he took her over his shoulder. Lena was crying, cursing the gods of milky titties, and pounding on his back trying to convince him not to punt her. He rolled her into a ball, like she was in the middle of doing a crunch or a hanging leg raise, and then kicked her down the mountain, again. It was a bone crushing kick that shattered her femur and sent her flying through the air. She landed plushly in a soft powder of snow but her momentum carried her down the mountain. She rolled and rolled, in excruciating pain each time she flipped over, and landed at the village one more time. Natasha was contacted. Lena’s thigh was set in a bandage by the local guru. She was given hot tea and blanket. She sipped, shivered, and cursed the fucking yeti, milked by “Mike” for the last time.

 

Merry Chistmas! #LPRTG #EARTG #SMUTPUNK || MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 4 BY MOCTEZUMA JOHNSON

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 4

BY MOCTEZUMA JOHNSON

Natasha took home the baby-yeti. Vlad did too, but these decisions are ultimately up to the woman and the man, while able to interject his views here and there, is essentially just a passenger along the ride, much the way Rhode Island is to the US presidential elections thanks to the electoral college. They got the baby yeti home and Vlad went out to the local shops and got a child’s bed, he was already so goddamn big, and packed the car full of formula. This boy could drink! Wow!

At first baby yeti was okay. Natasha was hopeful that she could mother him. Her and Vlad were a family. They were equipped. Natasha, however, had lost her best friend again. She wasn’t gone. But she was in a coma in Brighton General. Perhaps, part of Natasha resented the baby yeti. Or maybe it was just physical. She had no milk to give the yeti. So what use was she?

As the days passed the yeti grew in stature and he grew restless. Vlad went out for more formula every day. Every day he packed the car with formula, goat milk, horse milk. He was on the black markets online, the ones on 86th street, searching the black milky markets for more milk. He was quickly dubbed The Milkman by the local vendors, a pretty swarmy group.

None of it was enough. And none of it seemed right. The yeti always looked unsatisfied. It was like, Vlad thought, he had a special milk that he needed and none of what Vlad was providing was correct. Occasionally, after feeding on seventeen bottles at once the yeti would bang his big furry hand on his bed and Vlad would again get the drill and re-attach it. Vlad felt bad for the yeti. The yeti was grossly out of his element.

He also realized that the yeti was half human but the yetiness of the yeti was so dominant that it was hard to not consider him fully yeti. This was making raising a yeti in a human home difficult. Also, humans grow so slowly compared to just about any creature in the animal kingdom. This yeti growing fast. He was already walking. He was already getting into trouble. He had knocked down the TV, upturned the fridge, pulled the sink out of the socket, eaten the shower-head, and walked through a wall from the parlor room to the bedroom. Vlad reinstalled a shower-head, re-caulked the sink, put the TV back, but just left the hole in the wall.

Vlad knew he had to do something.

On a beautiful fall night, Vlad snuck into Lena’s hospital room. She looked like Snow White laying there (think more Bella Swann’s version than Disney’s, please). Even reclining and comatose, Lena’s tits were fucking humongous. He was all alone in this part of the hospital. There was only one guy working the wing and he was way down the corridor. Vlad lifted up her hospital gown and let her titties breath the crisp fall air. He’d rarely seen Lena’s nipples so soft. They were exquisite. She got turned on easily and usually he saw her nipples in states between hard and neutral. They were completely down, like a pat of putter melting into a pancake. He allowed himself to touch one. He rubbed it. Sure enough it got hard. Not very hard, more like neutral. But it responded to his touch. He let himself suck on it, he sucked until a squirt of milk shot into his mouth. He was rock hard. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t resist. He straddled his comatose ex-wife and proceeded to use her tits to pleasure his big Russian dick. It was utter joy! He was titty fucking a sleeping goddess. Her breasts were filled with milk, he could feel it, and better than ever. He was at the brink. He shot a creamy load of cum into the ravine between her massive juggs. Then he unpacked the milking paraphernalia he brought in and proceeded to milk his ex-wife’s tits. He filled up a few bottles, but then her tits went dry. It wasn’t nearly enough but at least it was the yeti’s mother’s milk. Maybe this would satisfy the young cub.

In their apartment, Vlad fed the young yeti cub his mama’s milk. This worked. He rested peacefully after draining the bottles. But when he woke, he wanted more and there was no more.

The Yeti-tantrum turned the 4-level brownstone they lived in into a pile of rocks within minutes. The neighbors ran to the street when they heard the earthquake taking place. The street was a nightmare. Women were screaming, crying, sirens were wailing. The fire department was on its way. Vlad, Natasha, and the yeti would have all been captured or killed if it wasn’t for the sudden appearance of a weird craft on the street. It came in fast, pogoing on a big barnacled stick. That’s right, it jumped in on part of this guy’s massive anatomy, his cock. And it came in so hot (fast) that the crowd parted in fear, awe, and a considerable amount of jealousy and stereotype-busting. It was Barnacle Man! The little Asian with the massive dick!

“Look, it’s Jack Lee.”

Jack Li/Barnacle Man arrived on his hovercraft which wasn’t exactly a hovercraft because it bounced rather than hovered. It bounced on his massive, hard dick. He came to a stop near the yeti-infant. “My name is Jack Li, not Jack Lee.”

The crowd murmured in confusion, his name is what not what? Aren’t they the same? Is Jack Li/Lee okay? Holy shit is his cock massive! Who cares about his name!

Barnacle Man harpooned the baby yeti and shackled him to a seat on the craft. Vlad and Natasha took human seats and fastened harnesses. They pogo’d off to Brighton General where Barnacle Man expertly took Lena and her coma-keeping life-support machines into the craft.

They headed to the bay and entered the water. The cock-pogo turned into a rudder and they were off to travel back across the planet.

$.

End Act 2

[Intermission – take a piss, have a smoke, get a quickie]

Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 5

Preview of Part 5

In Nepal, things were chill for a few months. Mike the Yeti fucked his wife, sucked on her tits, and was generally calm, and even happy. He still yearned for Lena’s Russian goodness but was content enough to love the one he was with.

He waited for his yeti-wife to get pregnant and start producing milk. He hadn’t visited his milking station since his return to the Himalayas.

He went for the first time and found some of Lena’s tattered clothes. It was a ripped plaid button down shirt. He used the torn shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes. Then he stomped down to the village and mauled a bunch of Sherpas. He ripped some from limb to limb. He bashed the heads of some into each other cracking both their skulls and leaking their Asian brains onto the snow. He disemboweled others. After he killed them, he placed them on the snow. He worked very diligently and delicately with the dead, maimed Sherpas. It was the worst Yeti-massacre in human history. He finished placing the dead bodies. He wipes his eyes again with Lena’s Swiss-cheesed, old shirt. He could smell her glorious lactation. He growled. The thunder of his growl exploded through Nepal. He looked down at the strewn bodies. They formed the perfect image of Lena’s gorgeous Russian tits.

(to be continued)

(hate waiting? don’t worry! A new one comes out EVERY day!)

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.

Milked by the Yeti | I’m writing this online day by day | #EARTG #SSRTG #MrBrtg | Witness it in installments, like TV — PART III —

Monster Porn Image
Callie Press and Moctezuma Johnson take turns helping the Yeti Milk Lena in this Fantasy Erotica featuring the Abominable Snowman

Milked by the Yeti

by Moctezuma Johnson

Yes, I’ll write this piece online so you can see the slow, stupid process I am stuck with thanks to brain damage, deafness, and incessant masturbation
    • Beats: Cut away from the Yeti cave and radika standing there with a knife ready to murder Lena and move to the backstory of Natasha with the ex and how she feels. When she hears about the bus coming back from the mountain because of horrible weather with Lena not onboard she decides to do something

 

MILKED BY THE YETI

Installment 1 :: Installment 2 :: Installment 3

 

These two hot-ass Russian chicks, I mean they were just teens at the time, landed in Bangkok. They were plucked from their little town. The twin hotties, that was their nickname. They were always together back home. In Bangkok they were together again: dancing and making money at high-end strip clubs that catered to international business executives. They both enjoyed their share of managers, team leaders, financial officers, and executive officers. They twinned a good slice of politicians, both Asian and Western as well. They learned that Asians held Russian prostitutes as the Holy Grail of Prostitutes. Fucking a Russian was a feather in the cap, a badge of honor, a move up in social rank. These fat cat Asian dudes would sit on the floor with their little bottle of cheap liquor, eat fried pork, take shots, and brag about the Russians they’d paid to fuck. They learned that their sweet little Russian twats were the bulls-eye on a male target of accomplishment. Their tits and asses were instrumental to camaraderie. Business deals would cease to exist without Natasha and Lena. They were intricate parts of world politics. Natasha and Lena were possibly the most prized Russians in Bangkok.

They made so much money they were economically and geographically mobile. They moved to the US to repeat the Bangkok trick. This time the money was considerably more but the conditions were considerably more deplorable.

The US had different social rules and a Russian whore was no longer a feather in anyone’s cap. Maybe it was privately but it wasn’t something bragged about in boardrooms.

Natasha and Lena were absolutely best friends still, so together they endured the racism, classism, and all other slights. Together. They were inseparable. They drank together, worked together, fucked together, and dated together. Then they both got domestic together. They each found husbands and Lena was quite happy with hers. For some reason Natasha, even after all the whoring, just wanted to fuck around. She didn’t last long with her husband. She thought that she could just play around on him behind his back yet stay happily married. Guys gossip as much as any sewing circle, the little cunts, and word about Natasha traveled and embarrassed her husband to the point that he left her.

Natasha got severely lonely. She got drunk a lot. She fucked a lot.

Lena’s husband, Vlad, took notice of her. He found that her man’s libido in her sexy woman’s body was unbelievably fucking hot. Like Natasha’s ex-husband, Vlad was attracted to the tall blonde with the model’s body, but unlike the ex-husband he was also attracted to the must-consume all pleasure attitude. Lena’s husband was legitimately a good match for Natasha mentally. This was the problem. This was how Natasha and Vlad ended up getting together and ruining a pretty solid marriage and a friendship that was more intimate than sisterhood. 

“I’m sorry baby,” Lena’s husband said to her. “I really understand Natasha. I want to be with her.”

“If it’s just the sex, you can fuck her all you want,” Lena said. “I don’t mind. I get it.”

“The sex is amazing, yes, but it’s more than that. It’s her character, her soul. Natasha’s just so unabashedly what she is. I respect that. I love you, Lena. I do. I always will. I will miss you. But this just has to end. I still want the best for you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I understand,” Lena said. She didn’t cry at the time. It was weird because as heartbreaking and ego-shattering as it was to lose a husband and a marriage, it was also somehow vindicating to know that her husband loved Natasha as much as Lena did. It was a little incestuous triangle affair. Lena understood it. A threesome had always been fine with her. It was the soulmate shit that surprised her. She couldn’t fight it. She could just accept it.

She would always be the “big tit plaything.” She was the fun opening act and Natasha was the main draw. Lena was a whore because she needed the money when she sold her body for sex. Natasha was a different breed. She needed the sex, the attempt to sate a constant insatiable pleasure, and the money was no more than a way to gauge how much sex she was getting and if it was even close to enough. Lena fucking respected Natasha too. And she hated her. Natasha had slutted herself so completely out that it left Lena as the bigger whore.

 

In the Yeti’s cave, Lena dreamed of Natasha. She saw her best-friend’s golden hair down her back, her perfect ass with its unimaginable smooth skin, and her shaved slit. She saw Natasha bent over sucking her husband’s cock while Lena licked her best friend’s golden pussy. It was a beautiful dream. Everyone was happy. Everyone was permeated by love and lust.

When she opened her eyes, it was dark and bitterly cold. She was still naked in the grasp of the Yeti. She felt something watching her and blinked until she noticed that a woman was standing in front of her. She blinked again trying to shake the image, but it was real and only a few feet in front of her. The apparition was dressed in a sari, and had a gold chain between nose ring and earring. She was thick as a pear, with hips and ass exploding out of a very skinny torso. She was the color of milk chocolate. She held a knife and was trembling. Lena realized that again she was in deep trouble. She could smell this woman’s curry breath. It was hot on her frigid face. The woman, she noticed, was about to murder them. Lena screamed on top of her lungs.

What happened was worse than she could have even imagined.

 

Back home, Natasha heard news of Lena from one of Vlad’s friends, the one who organized the mountain trek with big-titted whore. Natasha heard that Lena was brought to have fun with these business executives as they got riled up on adrenaline, drugs, alcohol, and Lena’s eggplant tits. She also heard that Lena wasn’t on the bus back down the mountain. She heard that this winter was the worst one in years. She heard that her old friend was up there all alone with no thermals. What the fuck? They left her with nothing but a thong? bus-himalayas-milked-by-the-yeti-erotica

Natasha shook violently for a second. Then she steadied herself carefully. Natasha may have stolen her best friend’s man and taken her place as his cocksucker, anal pig, and wife, but she was still best able to empathize with Lena than anyone. Natasha and Lena’s roles were different at the very moment, but that was a small little fart in the bowels of the universe. How easily their fates could have been switched.

Natasha looked at her new husband, “Give me your credit card.” He stared at her blankly until she yelled, “Now!”

 

 

Milked by the Yeti | I’m writing this online day by day | #EARTG #SSRTG #MrBrtg | Witness it in installments, like TV — PART II —

Yeti Terrorizes the Village

Milked by the Yeti

by Moctezuma Johnson

Yes, I’ll write this piece online so you can see the slow, stupid process I am stuck with thanks to brain damage, deafness, and incessant masturbation

Outline (of the part I have written / the rest will be published in a separate post)

    • He protects her from an intruder
      • he sleeps with his arms around her
      • the Yeti impregnates her. her name is Lena, not like you care
        • The Yeti gets bored and sick of Lena once he’s impregnated her, think how a horse runs off once he jizzes in a blonde

 

MILKED BY THE YETI

Installment 1 :: Installment 2

She had fallen asleep softly in the Yeti’s soft arms but she woke up to her hair being pulled and her jacket being ripped off by hooves. She opened her eyes and blinked. It was dark but she made out an animal’s furry head ramming down at her. The head was hard and pounded her skull to skull, apparently trying to knock her unconscious. It was some kind of wild goat, a Himalayan Tahr, or a Yak or something. It had horns curved backwards and Lena saw it coming to head butt her again and she rolled out of the way. She got a good look at it and saw that it had it’s member ragingly hard and was about to penetrate her sleeping or unconscious body. The fact that she was awake had enraged it. It made a nasty bleating noise and scratched its hooves into the ground. It was about to charge at her. She heard a growl and then saw an even bigger form reach up and cut the Tahr right across the shoulder. It made an awful noise and then ran out of the cave. The Yeti stood there with blood on his immense hand. He sighed and then sat down. It looked like he was going to cry. Lena walked forward to him. Her massive breasts were partially out since her jacket had been ripped. She saw down deeper into the cave. The Yeti had made a fire to keep her warm. She walked toward him cautiously. He licked the blood off of his hand and then took her hands in his and held her up. Her big tits were right in his face. He stared at them. He shook his hands, which shook her hands, which made her tits shake. He watched the tits shake in front of his face. He was pleased. He shook her hands some more and watched her ample breasts sway. He pulled her jacket off of her and then retuned to shaking her hands above her head. This time he snorted and made a coughing-like sound that must have been a Yeti-laugh. He pushed his face into her breasts. The fur of his face felt like cashmere on her tits. It was an intense, sensual pleasure like coming out of a hot bath into a terry cloth towel. She would have caressed his big furry head but he still held her hands pinned over her sexy body.

The yeti stood up while holding her hands in his. Now her nipples rubbed against his belly flesh, that’s how tall he was. She looked up at him, with wide eyes. Again she saw the ant-umbra of his eyes, with red glowing from behind the cool black gems. Her nipples were hard and his fur was like a room full of feathers tickling her gently. All her nerve endings on her breasts were engaged from nipple, to areola, to bumps. She was aroused. He sniffed in. He let go of her hands. She shook her breasts again, letting them rub against his amazing fur and skin. If she could have a breast orgasm she would have been having it now. It was pure unadulterated pleasure. She was so excited that her sex was stirring and he seemed to know. He sensed it. He kept sniffing, inhaling. He could smell her arousal!

He tugged at the short skirt and she took it off. She had been wearing a thong when entertaining the men on the mountain. The Yeti grabbed the thong in his hand and it snapped right off of her like a sling shot and landed in the fire where it promptly burned up. He made that coughing sound again.

Lena took his hand in hers and put the furry digit between her legs. He made a deep sound like mmmmnnnnnn and she started to rub her slit on his furry hand and arm. Her pussy lips rubbed against the fur. When Lena was a child she enjoyed the feeling of a towel between her legs. This 1312168_feda0f8released that childhood joy but with heavy adult realism of clitoral stimulation from the soft thing she had every touched. What sand paper was to rough this fur was too soft. It was both soft and warm. It sent rainbows into her clitoris and into her libido. She was ravenous. She looked at it.

His cock.

It could be mistaken for a human leg. It was reddish brown and thick as a wine bottle. It was erect and pointing right at her. She knew it would kill her if it entered her but also thought that because she was gushing with her liquids that it could possibly be taken inside of her.

He must have read her mind, or sensed her thinking, or smelled her hormonal shift. He spun her around as delicate as a salsa dancer with a long term partner and buried his hairy face in her delicate petals and ate her out. His nose rubbed her anus, and his hair face tickled the round inner ass cheeks of her asscheeks, the part right around the slit. His tongue, also hairier than a human’s, lapped all the way from the bottom hole to the top and the dragon shaped clit. Perhaps the female Yeti anatomy wasn’t that different because this abominable snowman knew his way around a pussy. He brought her to an ecstasy that she had only had with her wand and her daydreams, but this time the physical sensation was stronger than anything she had even imagined. He held her up by the waist. Not a little bit upright, but in midair and ate her pussy until she screamed out in joy yelling, “Yes, yeti, yes!”

After her pussy lips clenched and shook and leaked goo, she lifted her up and pushed his cock-leg into her quivering pussy. It stretched and hurt and opened and slid and bloomed around his Yeti-cock. It was the worst feeling of taking for than you can with the intense pleasure of being stuffed to the maximum. She was on the verge of orgasm and death. It was wonderful. He bounced her like a tiny bouncy ball on his tree stump cock. He growled as her pussy gloved his cock up and down. The cock was big but soft like a jelly dong. Not soft, but flexible. It wrapped into her and the fur tickled her insides. For the first time in her life, she had a non-clitoral climax. It was so intense that her pussy juiced forward. He fucked her deep as possible and grunted so loud that there was an avalanche outside on the mountain. He shuddered and released Yeti-seed up into Lena’s fully satisfied cunt. It was the best sex of her life.

She collapsed on top of him and they went back to sleep with the fire flickering in the interior of the cave. They slept. They were not alone. Something or somebody else was in the cave with them, their shadow stretched over the two sleeping bodies of Lena and the Yeti.

Installment 3 – Coming Tomorrow