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.

 

Fill Your Free Time with a little MILKED BY THE YETI #EARTG #SSRTG #LPRTG @MJKingOfErotica

Yeti Terrorizes the Village

MILKED BY THE YETI

Moctezuma Johnson

In Nepal, things were chill for a few months. “The Yeti (aka “Mike”) 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 patiently 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. No excursions to his private Yeti-cave, no kidnapping of voluptuous Pakistani women, no ass-raping brave Western tourists, nor milking Russian Lena-look-alikes. The Yeti had been surprisingly well-behaved.

He went for the first time. He remembered skating her. He remembered entering Lena but he was too big to get all the way in. He found Lena’s tattered top. 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 Sherpa. 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 Sherpa. It was the worst Yeti-massacre in human history. He finished posing the dead bodies. He wiped his eyes again with Lena’s 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.

If it wasn’t so bloody, the dead bodies would have formed a beautiful scene. It turns out the Yeti was quite the artist. He had Lena’s tits expertly narrated. With the whitish flesh of the dead bodies he built the subcutaneous goodness of her massive mammaries, with the jackets and clothes drenched in a good amount of blood he formed her spectacular areolas with expert shading, and with their heads and darkest features (sometimes the most utterly blood-soaked) the yeti formed her extraordinary nipples, the source of all the yeti’s longing. He stared at his elegy. It wasn’t a lament for the dead. The yeti didn’t empathize with dead humans any more than humans feel for mosquitoes. He lamented the loss of his favorite milky titties, Lena’s breasts.

On the open seas, Vlad, Natasha, Barnacle Man, a fettered Yeti, and a comatose Lena (with all her life-support machines) were en route to the Himalayas.

“What happened to you, Jackie?” Natasha asked the poor Sea Captain who was in the beginning throws of an orgy with the gorgeous blonde when he was rudely assaulted, captured, and taken against his will.

“Ah those guys?” Jack Li said. “I owed them a quarter. Sorry I couldn’t pleasure you right back there. Jack Li hates to leave a woman in anticipa–”

He stopped the boat for a moment, his cock rudder ceasing to flap incredibly, then he steered them at full speed into a narrow river that led them at insane speeds past Dhaka, West Bengal, and Sikkam, India to the end of the river. They made their way from Darjeeling without drinking even one cup of tea [[tea’s nutz, I had to say it!]] through the highlands by bus to their destination at foot of the Himalayas where they saw the Yeti last time.

Leaving the baby-yeti and his comatose mother in the rudder-craft, Vlad, Natasha, and Jack disembarked.

The villagers were in an uproar. They had knives, shotguns, even a few (who must have been in a military of some sort) had AK-47s. They were speaking frenetically.

“The Yeti has been massacring the locals, breaking a long tradition of relative peace beside a few big-titted women taken for pleasure,” said Jack Li. “They want to kill him.”

They all looked back to the craft to Lena’s comatose body to see if she’d stir. Nothing. Natasha sighed and flipped her golden hair back. There was a sound from way high above. It was a glassy gong sound, a chime. The villagers were scampering, getting in pick up trucks to go get Yeti-blood. It permeated the air, some deep bass. It was a tocsin, alerting the villages that it was time to attack.

Vlad said, “It’s emanating from the Buddhist temple on the mountain. Hide the baby!”

It was too late, the villagers had spotted the baby-yeti in the strange craft of Barnacle man and were already pointing their firearms in their direction.

A massive growl thundered out of the craft. The thunderous growl tore through the sound of chimes, gongs, voices, and clips locking into automatic rifles.

The leader of the villagers, an old man with a wrinkled brown face, lively green eyes, and a grey mustache and goatee, barked at Jack Li.

“They want the boy,” Jack said to Vlad. “We have no choice.”

“No,” screamed Natasha. “They will kill him. Never.”

Natasha was trembling with rage, fear, and indecision.

The leader stepped slowly to the entrance of the craft. Jack Li allowed the old man to move to it. Natasha, however, stepped in his way and put her lanky body in front of him. “Nyet,” she said in decisive Russian defiance.

He looked at the Russian goddess closely, inhaling her blue eyes, letting her golden hair fan out in the cold like rays from the sun. He smiled.

“Take me instead,” Natasha said. “You can all have me, share me.”

The old man laughed. He reached forward and grabbed Natasha hard by the nipple right over her jacket with one hand and by the hair with the other. He yanked her head back with a fistful of her hair. “You cannot handle even one of us, let alone ALL of us,” he said. He laughed hard and loud, and his heavily-armed minions laughed with him although they probably didn’t understand much of his broken-English. He twisted her nipple.

Natasha, with her head back, hair in this old man’s grip, stayed confident. “You’re wrong. If there’s one thing I know it is how to please groups of men. I have experience.” She said it slowly and her cocksucking lips were full and gorgeous. They carried with them the promise of oral pleasure. Her hands worked down to the old man’s crotch which she rubbed playfully.

Their discourse was cut short by a loud growl and white, hairy fist smashing the craft into two in one swift blow.

When the yeti, the adult yeti named “Mike”, was up there arranging dead Sherpa into the shape of Russian titties, the she-yeti was watching. She stood there watching the love of her life go on a killing-rampage because he was pining for the milky tits of a human. It was the saddest moment of her long, she-yeti life. It was sure as snow falls from the sky that her man was obsessed with tits that did not hang from the she-yeti. The she-yeti’s heart broke as she stared at “Mike” and the eerie sounds of chimes and gongs hung in the Himalayan air.

She decided that she would help her yeti man. He had been good to her. He had tried to love her properly. Love is a bizarre force. The heart goes to places that none could ever anticipate.

Fate is even more bizarre. Wifey-yeti snuck away from the yeti and his dead-body artwork and into the village because she spotted Jack Li, so she thought. She figured he would lead her to Lena.

Her fist smashed the craft in two. The villagers started to shoot, to run forward to knife her ankles, but none of this mattered to the she-yeti. She had expected to find Lena and give her to her husband. In one side of the split craft she found Lena, sleeping. But what she found in the other half of the craft changed everything. It changed her whole life forever. She didn’t hear the screaming, the gunfire, the gongs, the vitriol in the Nepali curses thrown at her as she mindlessly swatted, kicked, and utterly annihilated the angry militia. She only saw a baby-yeti with eyes of sunshine, fur of cashmere, and heart of pure gold. She unfettered him from his seat with the superhuman strength that only a mama can possess and took him into her arms. At that point, even the angry mob stopped attacking. One, the attack was futile, it was suicide to engage with a protective mama-yeti. Two, they were curious what was happening and just wanted to watch. What they saw was a miracle. The she-yeti held the baby to her and he went for her nipples. She shook her head. She hadn’t been pregnant. She was of no real motherly use to him. She wasn’t the mother and didn’t have big balloon titties filling automatically with milk. The big-titted, comatose, human, non-furry whore was the actual mother. Although it was true that the she-yeti was not the biological mother, the DNA gods that twist our strands—human, animal, mythological beast, etc—into double helices, had gathered the cosmic fibers in the she-yeti in such a maternal way upon sight of the baby yeti that when his lips met her yeti-nipples the damnedest thing happened.

Milk rained from her tits.

The baby yeti had found what he was looking for in a mother, in a life force. He drank and drank and was truly being sated, the way every child deserves.

The villagers were in awe but then they were again shouting and screaming and arming their guns. The He-Yeti emerged from the white. But the yeti did not attack. He did not maim. He did not even growl.

The fucking yeti rubbed the back of the she-yeti. Then he gently smacked his son on the bottom. If a chronicler of animal emotions was nearby he would probably say that the yeti’s look could be classified as a smile. Think dog wagging his tail, cat with its tail up, or a duck standing on one leg. The yeti appeared happy.

The yeti found the half of the craft with Lena in it. He removed her and the life-support machines. He unhooked her from the machines.

Natasha gasped and Vlad grabbed his new wife while watching the yeti put his old wife to eternal sleep. The yeti didn’t look sad exactly. His eyes were focused on Lena’s. They were burrowing through her. He had Lena’s body resting tenderly on his forearm. With his other hand, he kneaded her breasts. Then he leaned down and sucked on them.

“That’s a moribund milking,” Vlad said to Natasha with more than a small amount of disgust and superiority.

The yeti sucked the milk. His eyes, the antumbra changed color. They glowed pink. The she-yeti saw her husband’s eyes change color. It was love. She knew it. They were pink as roses on Valentine’s Day. The yeti stopped sucking Lena’s milk and cast his pink and black eyes, like pink solar eclipses, at his love.

Lena, although deep in a coma, barely holding on to her own life-force, on the brink of death, felt the pink eyes on her. It was like a chime in her brain. It flipped a switch. Her heart revved into gear. Her eyes opened.

She saw her beautiful yeti staring down at her. The opened her mouth. They kissed deeply. Her tongue was immediately ensconced in the warm cashmere of yeti-tongue which stimulated every nerve ending in her own tongue. It like kissing heaven directly.

The villagers began to clap.

Natasha and Vlad held each other tightly. Jack Li tossed a quarter up and down in his hand. The mama- and baby-yeti walked up the mountain to their cave.

The yeti continued to kiss his love. Once again Lena had been milked by the yeti.

 

End Book 3 ###

(What? you want more Yeti? If so, let Callie Press know with a tweet or any form of cummespondence. Thanks! We can convince her. Love, MJ)

My feeling is that the Yeti can never be monogamous and punts her off the mountain again!

Want more Moctezuma Johnson? Visit http://moctezumajohnson.com/ or check Moctezuma’s Smutpunk On Amazon

 

 

 

 

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!)

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

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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.

 

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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