Page 33 of Stags

“Well, have a look at it, little doe,” he told her in a strained voice as she wrapped her hands tight around the base of him. “If you’re curious, feel free to explore.”

Shewascurious. But she was shy again.

“Go ahead,” he urged her. “You can’t hurt it.”

She loosened her grip, staring down at him in the darkness. He was big—well, she thought he was, anyway. She had to admit she had no real frame of reference. She had never watched much visual pornography, and the romance novels she read didn’t go around giving descriptions of scale very often. Once in a while, someone would write that the man’s member was as thick as a baby’s arm or something, and if that was normal, his wasn’t big, but she thought that was meant to be really big, and probably rare, and probably an exaggeration, anyway.

She was still babbling internally. She loosely dragged her fist over the length of him.

He made a ragged noise, so very affected that she felt pleased with herself and did it again.

“You certain you haven’t done this before?” he breathed, nuzzling her ear.

She liked that. She set about exploring in earnest, finding his foreskin, playing hide and seek with the head of him, seeing if he was right about not being able to hurt it—seemingly so, because no matter how tight she squeezed, he seemed to like it.

She toyed with him until he stopped her, saying he couldn’t bear it, and pressed her back into the bed and slid his member against her sopping, just-climaxed pussy and then slipped inside.

She gasped.

He inched into her, and he suddenly seemed incredibly large, just huge, as she was pinned down under his girth and jammed full of his thick hardness. It was somuch.

It wasn’t… bad.

It didn’t hurt, but she wasn’t entirely sure it felt good either, it was just… invasive.

That was exactly how she felt, yes, invaded. He was taking up so much space inside her and he just kept pushing further in, deeper in, sun and moon, how much more of him could there be?

Finally, he seemed to settle.

He drew in several hitching breaths, tracing her features. “Are you all right, little doe?” he murmured.

She nodded, quickly.

“You remember what I said,” he told her. “It can end anytime. You say the word, it stops.”

“Don’t stop,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why, not exactly. Because she didn’t really like it, though she didn’t dislike it. It felt sort of strange and intense and very bothersome, but it didn’t feel anything nearly as good as his tongue had felt. There was something powerful, however, in the fact that she had to give him entrance all the way into her like this, that she was trapped under him on the bed, all of that…

Well, anyway, she didn’t stop him, and she didn’t know why.

And he began to thrust.

It was more intense, very intense, quite, quite something.

She couldn’t say it was good, still couldn’t say that, but… she was certain now that she didn’t want it to end either. It felt transformative in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

At first, she had her eyes closed, but then she opened them.

He was shadowy over her, hulking, muscular, a bit of light gleaming on his bare muscles, on the tips of his impressive rack of antlers.

It was good, seeing him over her, feeling him in her, feeling her body stretched and filled so full of him, under him, taking him, yes,good.

She wriggled against him, gasping, beginning to moan.

It still didn’t feel the same way it felt to have a building orgasm, but it felt like something else, something she could not experience on her own, some experience that was borne only of two, of her and a man, and she was the receptacle and she liked it. Moon and sun, she liked it. She liked being split open and held down and fucked by a strong stag. Sheadoredit.

LYALL KNEW HEshould let go of the doe woman.

He had her pressed into a tree trunk, her breasts against the bark, her belly against it, too. He had his pelvis against her, his very hard cock tucked into the crease of her ass. They were both clothed, but it was like they weren’t, really, at this point.

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