Dragon Erotica: The Dragon Did Me (Cuckold Hucow)

by Daisy N. Chains

  There was no doubting the craving that swallowed me—I felt truly in heat. And what I was doing was working. The Dragon moved back, so its cock was momentarily free from my grasp. He gripped me by the hips and flipped me over with his mighty arms, before ripping my jeans down and my knickers off with his talons. A couple of skilful flicks were all it took, and I was nude except for my boots, my neatly trimmed pussy uncovered. He raised me and retained me at his midsection height, my arms and legs dangling.

  The Dragon was obviously fired up, and it was evident the more my husband complained, the more the blood-flow raced down to the beast’s penis. And it was becoming clear that I was soon to be on the receiving end.

  The beast began to rotate me as if I were a new car in a showroom, showing me off to my husband. I'm not being arrogant when I say that I have great toned legs and a taut bubble butt, with cheeks like a firm peach. Jeff was observing with enraptured focus, gazing at my ass and no doubt feeling as though I was his property, as the Dragon's tail playfully whipped my buttocks.

  If my pussy was dripping before, I was now near to flooding as streams of love-juice trickled down my trembling thighs. The Dragon carefully laid me down on my back, on a big tree stump.

  "Valerie, are you ok honey?" asked Jeff, all color still completely drained from his usually rosy cheeks.

  "Of course I'm ok, silly. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm really starting to enjoy myself," I said calmly, Jeff now fully realizing the extent of my arousal.

  As I lay on my back, I gazed up at this sizeable legendary creature before me and felt an eager longing. There was something so dominantly sexy about him, unlike anything I had formerly experienced. The Dragon rubbed his cock, whacking it up and down, making it as stiff as he could. It looked about as long as my arm, and thicker than my wrist.

  I traced my hands down to my pussy again. It was juiced-up and slick, ready for anything the Dragon had in mind. He squatted down like a powerlifter, and pressed the head of his cock up against my flushed entrance. I spread my lips apart to grant him admission.

  The mammoth beef forced itself in, and my tight snatch clamped around the girth. The sensation was glorious—immediate sharp suffering made tolerable by the intertwined bliss that ignited bits of my subconscious that had never before been triggered. The Dragon proceeded to nail me.

  Crouching, with the soles of his feet firmly on the ground, he pumped me with a brutal urgency, his solid pelvis stretching me open while his sturdy cock stuffed my pussy. I felt every inch of his cock, every measure of its great length pressing and kneading my insides. At that moment it felt like the world revolved around his girth, as if the only reason I existed was to be enveloped around his dick.

  Dazed and euphoric, I glanced to my side and looked at Jeff, helplessly bound to the tree and mortified. However, he was clearly excited. He lowered his head to look down at himself, and no doubt felt slightly second-rate. Usually so gallant about his own penis, he was now vacant and useless.

  My groans bombarded my husband’s eardrums like a violent storm, and I could tell he wished there was something he could do. But I knew some part of him was taking pleasure in this—watching his wife getting banged by a mythical reptile, and the bulge in his slacks confirmed this. I think he felt a sense of perverse pride, that the Dragon desired me so much. And I was getting it, taking it. No doubt about it I was pleasing the Dragon, and it withdrew so that just the tip of his gigantic junk was in me, before thrusting back in mercilessly. It was unbelievable and stimulating and at the same time excruciating and gross.

  The Dragon drilled and drilled—I could feel his shaft expand and thicken further as legendary blood ran through it. I could sense he was getting near.

  "Oh Christ, wait for me, I'm not quite there yet," I pleaded, eager for him to keep pounding me until I came. "Hang on, please, just wait a minute," I begged the beast, the exhilaration and soreness driving a tear to my eye and more juice to my snatch.

  I was now absolutely into it, howling in delight as the Dragon penetrated me, over and over. Astonishingly, Jeff had managed to free one of his hands. But, instead of using his free hand to untie himself, he apparently had a more pressing issue to deal with, as he fumbled with his zipper. Soon, he was very busy with his hand between his legs, frantically masturbating as he watched.

  It was weirdly titillating, having this huge colossus fucking me while my husband wanked over us. Dear readers, if you had asked me how my vacation was going to pan out, I would never in a trillion years have been able to forecast this.

  I pumped my hips towards the Dragon's dick, hollering and screeching louder than ever. The monstrous erection spasmed inside me, angry and ready.

  He grabbed me by my waist and lifted me up in the air. He fucked me like he was polishing himself inside me. I was like a wriggling, living blow-up sex doll. I hung there, impaled. I started to orgasm, multiple times, over and over again. I felt my pussy walls expanding, and his size felt like it was going to go right through me and come out of the top of my head. Yet another wave of ecstasy and affliction ran through me. I almost blacked out. The Dragon gave an untamed cry and let loose a flood of sperm that dispersed like a garden sprinkler on full blast, a hot gush of dense sludge that forced me off his cock. I hit the floor, landing on my back on the mud, cum flowing from my abused snatch.

  The Dragon threw his hands up in the air and opened his mouth, and as he did so a fiery breath tore through the air like a flame thrower, singeing Jeff's eyelashes. An ear-splitting roar of glory and pleasure accompanied it, and the Dragon's dick aimed itself straight at me. It rippled and vibrated, as the Dragon beat his own chest like a gorilla, and another fountain of snow-white jizz flew through the air like Christmas party poppers, showering down upon me and completely cum-covering me. I knew the Dragon had big balls, but this was ridiculous—he had more cum than a hundred men.

  The beast let out something that was similar to a contented chuckle, as Jeff came too, his load tiny by comparison as he ruined his leather loafers.

  I had cum in me, and on me. The sperm indiscriminately filled my womb, paddling.

  I lay there for a moment or two, stunned but regaining my senses. I felt pride in the fact that I had made this legendary creature orgasm—I had tamed the wild beast and fulfilled its natural primal desire. I felt the lukewarm, sticky cream-pie dribble out of me. I touched a blob of it and brought it to my lips. There was a lush taste to it and an almost rubbery consistency that really whet my appetite. I cupped my hand and caught it as it dripped, before bringing it to my mouth and gulping it down. For the first time since our encounter with the Dragon, I began to smile.

  The beast glanced about with a barbarous grin, displaying horrifying huge fangs and a satisfied glint in his eyes. He waved his tail and sprinted off into the depths of the jungle.

  At that point I had no idea whether it was possible for a human woman to get impregnated by a dragon. But given the amount he had ejaculated I figured it was pretty likely. Jeff had managed to untie himself, and crawled through the dank soil over to me.

  I thought back to the Dragon's expression, still raw in my mind. He could hunt, he could harvest, and I could help feed. I sure had the bountiful mammaries to do that. I was sure it was cozy in his cave.

  “Let’s never come back here,” muttered Jeff.

  “Sure, sweetie,” I said softly.

  I kind of meant it. But when we got home to the city, I booked a flight back here instead.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Bonus Stories …

  By

  Daisy N. Chains

  I unzipped the large tent and crawled out into the evening air. It was pretty much dusk, and a gorgeous dark blue light filled the clearing in the forest. Peter lay on top of his sleeping bag near the dying fire, still immersed in sleep. I looked around and took in my surroundings, everything looking slightly different now night was on its way. The only other tent belonged to my mother, who was cuddling and bottle-feeding my young baby. I sure
needed a break from looking after my youngster, and greatly appreciated my mom's keenness to take care of her, while I caught up with my own thoughts. I needed my own space from time to time, that was for sure. Peter was planning to share my mom's tent—they were married after all.

  I inhaled deeply. God, it felt good to be out here. If I'm being honest, I had actually wanted a hotel room in the nearby town, but Peter had insisted on outdoor camping right here in the forest. Up until now, the most remarkable thing in the location had been the fire pit we had built upon arrival. I looked at Peter's head, lying so close to the glowing remnants of the fire. So close, and yet so far. Man, he was a jerk sometimes. Well, most of the time.

  When my mom had started dating him, I thought Peter was a pleasant enough guy. The same age as my mom, and not someone I'd typically talk to, or meet in day to day life, but it seemed as though he made her happy. And whatever made her happy, made me happy. At first. The persistent reminders from Peter and my mom that I should refer to him as 'Dad', even though he'd only been around for a couple of years was, quite frankly, asking a bit much of me. Peter could be unbelievably rude at times. Yes, my weight had increased a little since childbirth, but surely that was acceptable—it comes with the territory. It's not as though some middle aged man who happened to have married into my family had any right to even mention my weight. And it wasn't as though I was even fat anyway. Of course, his belly was to be ignored. ‘Podgy’, he’d called my bottom last weekend. I'd almost pimp-slapped him then, but I let it slide. I was genuinely proud of myself for not making a scene about it. The insult had offended me a little, and there was no way I'd forget about it. When we returned to the city, I'd have it out with him.

  In regards to my appearance, let's get things into perspective. I'm 20 years old, and getting pregnant was never my intention. I am a part time model with considerable curvature and a tanned complexion. My boobs are like two sun-kissed spheres, that jiggle like jelly when strapless and jut out confidently when crammed into one of my tight tops. My legs are slender, and my abdomen firm. I have absolutely no problem getting attention from the opposite sex—hence that one unprotected night which resulted in the baby my mom was now nursing.

  The sun was setting, and Peter eventually stirred from his kip and glanced up at me. I frowned at him from the other side of the fire pit, where the stump-log was still smoldering with dim reddish embers deep in its centre. “Hey Charlotte,” he said, before yawning loudly. I grimaced. But as I looked at his perfect white teeth I couldn't help admitting to myself that he actually looked quite handsome where he lay, the fire's subtle light illuminating his chiselled features.

  “Hey Daddy.” I rolled my eyes.

  Peter acted distressed and baffled. “You upset or something?”

  I crossed my arms as I looked down at him, trying my best to have an expressionless face. “Are you being serious?”

  “Sweetie, don’t be like that. This is about the weight thing, isn't it? You know you’ve put on a couple of pounds. But just on your ass. I was just saying it out loud. I actually meant it as a compliment. You’re truly being ludicrous.”

  I was so pissed I was starting to lose the capability to form rational thoughts. Maybe it was Peter's fault. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't gotten laid in a while. Being a single mom sure had its downside. But before I said anything horrible, or a whole lot worse, I kicked a small pebble in the general direction of the fire, crossed my arms and briskly stormed off into the woods. “Charlie! Really? Come on. Come back here and talk to Daddy about this.” He no doubt watched my fat ass as I vanished into the gloomy treeline.

  "Catch you later... Dad," I whispered to myself as I walked on into the blackness.

  I strolled off the path and wandered uphill, the boggy greenish grass under my shoes squelching as I fearlessly treaded forward, still mad but also still totally appreciating the recently-lost load from my stomach that I'd been lugging around for the past nine months. The forest was far denser around here. The trees seemed much taller, almost threatening.

  My annoyance died down just before I discovered I was truly lost. I turned around, at long last not concentrating wholly on Peter, and came to the realization I had no idea where the heck I was. I acknowledged I couldn’t be too far, simply because I hadn't been walking for that long. I stopped and looked up, but the leaves and branches were too dense to see the stars. The forest was pitch black, so I stood silently and tried to listen to the sounds around me. I heard chirps, the soft rustle of wildlife, and a softly babbling brook. I loved the outdoors, usually, but at this moment in time I was wishing I was in a nice comfy hotel room. I knew camping wasn't going to be the best idea. I tried to hear voices, anything human, hoping maybe that my mom and Peter were chatting and I was still in earshot of them. It would help to fend off real dread. I held my breath and listened.

  No voices. And I could no longer hear the twittering birds, and the sound of the babbling brook was so soft that I practically couldn’t hear it at all—I couldn't even determine which direction it was coming from.

  I halted dead in my tracks, and my cardiovascular system felt like it hopped up into my throat, as I listened to a very strange, deep sound. There was no way a man could have made the noise. For some reason an image of a bull flashed though my mind. I tried to calm my nerves, and told myself that it if it was a wild boar, or cow, or something, then it was probably miles away, and probably completely harmless. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

  I heard it again. The growl went on for several seconds longer than the last time. My ears pricked up and my hearing tingled as I thought about what really made that sound. My legs started to shake. I decided to turn around and walk in the other direction. But walking in the other direction may not have been the smartest move, because I had no idea whether that was the way back to camp or not. I was well and truly fricking lost. I was searching for the path from which I had come, but the further I walked, the more lost I felt. This really was now a test not to panic, not scream, not run like a scared child. I'm a young woman, for Christ's sake. I could handle this. I was determined to keep my head and I'd get there. Eventually.

  The growl sounded once more, but now it was a great deal nearer, as if it was coming from right behind me. I turned around suddenly in an effort to try to see what made the noise, but there was absolutely nothing there, just the deep, dense woodland.

  I felt a giant hand over her mouth area from behind, taking hold of me firmly. I yelled into the rugged palm, my muffled scream silenced. Another arm held my hips, its large muscles controlling me firmly and forcefully.

  Now absolutely Panic-stricken, I was about to attempt another shriek, but my visual world shifted. The blackness of the forest turned to white, and I passed out where I stood.

  I dreamt that I was lying on a soft, white cloud, floating high up in the sky. The softness of the cloud felt like silky pillows, comforting me. It felt so relaxing and peaceful. It felt so real. I didn't want this dream to ever end. However, a terrible feeling washed over me, as I came to the realization of what my true predicament was. My arms felt very heavy, awkward, and I detected a metallic rattling, as I opened my eyes.

  I was in a dim, drab room, like some sort of cave, chained to the wall, my arms outstretched and bound, my legs free. Looking around at my surroundings, I saw in the dancing candlelight that I was not alone. I was thankful for the fact that there was a man chained to the wall to the right of me. And even though it wasn't my favourite person in the world, I was deeply grateful that he was here too. It was Peter. My so-called 'Daddy'. He was chained in a similar fashion to me, although his eyes were closed, unconscious, his strong body hanging limp like a puppet on a string.

  "Hey," I said, in a half-whisper, half-authoritative tone, twisting my neck as far to my right as I could, so I could say the words right into his left ear. "Peter. Pete. Dad! Wake the fuck up."

  Nothing. He didn't even stir. He was out cold.

  A sinister presence was ca
st dramatically into the claustrophobic cave-room. I yanked against the sturdy chains, but they were fastened securely. They weren't budging.

  “Sweet Mary. Mother of God,” I mouthed silently, my eyes as wide as a raver on 3 ecstasy tablets.

  Dear readers, I wouldn't lie to you. This is what happened on that dark July night. This is the truth. This is my story, and this is what I saw.

  In walked the Minotaur. He seemed bigger than I remembered from the beast that grabbed me in the depths of the woods. He stood tall, approximately 7 foot in height, his frame vastly well-developed. He had the head of a bull, and the body of a man. My eyes scanned down the length of him. He was wearing white boxer shorts, his human legs ripped and muscular. His hoofed feet stood securely on the gravelly floor, his long tail flicking from left to right rhythmically behind him. I was frozen stiff. Where he had obtained those white boxer shorts from was a mystery that would remain unsolved, but no doubt the previous owner of the Calvin Klein branded underwear was now wandering around in the forest, naked. Or worse.

  I had always thought that a Minotaur was a mysterious beast of fantasy and legend—just a kid's story. But not this one. There he was before me. I let out a scream, a loud ear-shattering cry that I had no control over. Peter still didn't move. As if in response, the monster let out a tremendous roar, a booming, thunderous yell from the bottom of his lungs that caused the candle-holders on the walls to shake.

  My eyes were carefully concentrated on the creature, and he in turn calmly looked back at me. He was human in an animal way and animal in a human way, an uneasy blend of bull and body-builder. But when I gazed into his eyes I witnessed a heart and soul look back. There was definitely intellect behind that animal face, there was psyche and awareness. I wondered what the hell it wanted from me.