Page 53 of Bred By the Minotaur
This is nothing like the breeding bench.
At last, I do scream into the gag as Hank finally pushes in all the way, until my clit meets the thick fur at the base of his cock. It brushes me wonderfully with every stroke, and I dissolve into a shivering mess of begging.
Hank leans his head down closer to me as I chant “please, please” into the gag.
“What is it you want?” he asks with a voice that’s low and painfully seductive. He slows the movement of his hips, and I moan in protest. “You want to come?”
I nod rapidly, trying another “please,” but it’s too muffled. Hank grins and kisses me once on the nose before sitting back. He finally releases my hands, and instead grabs me by the hips, pulling out his cock abruptly. He turns me over like I’m a toy to be positioned how he pleases, and yanks my ass up into the air. I barely have time to grab the blankets before he pushes into me again, and I let out a cry muffled by the gag.
I love that I don’t have to be quiet as he takes me with renewed vigor. There’s nothing in the world like being with Hank again, like being filled by him and hearing his guttural groans. This is what I’ve always wanted, what I’ve always craved. I’ve been waiting my whole life for it, and now I get to have it.
Hank. For this moment, in this room, I can have everything I want.
Before I know what’s happening, my vision is exploding in white, and I’m screaming into the mass of ribbon. Behind me, Hank lows like a bull as he smashes through my orgasm, but he’s swelling larger and larger inside me, and before my first climax is over, I’m rolling into another one and he’s groaning as he unloads.
Hank nearly collapses on top of me, panting. His arms shake as he holds himself up behind me, while I’m flattened into the blankets, my ass still in the air. With supreme gentleness, he slides out, and his cum gushes down my legs. Then he rolls us both onto our sides and curls himself around me, reaching up to free me from the gag.
“That was incredible,” I say, rubbing my cheeks where the ribbon bit into my skin.
“Mmm,” is all Hank answers, and it fascinates me how much he talks when we’re fucking, and how little he talks when we’re not. He brings his haunches up underneath me so we’re spooning, and buries his nose in my hair.
I set my alarm, then let myself drift off in Hank’s arms again. It feels much too good, much too right, and I know I’ve already fallen for him.
Damn it.
Once again at five a.m., I stumble back down the hall to my own room. I wish I could simply stay all night with Hank, cuddled up against my beast of a minotaur, but I can’t. Everything becomes much too complicated if we have to explain what we’re doing to Milo, not to mention my sister and Imelda.
Luckily, Hank has the following day off. We start out the day meal planning, then make a long list of everything we’re going to pick up at the store.
“I want to get things you like to eat, too,” Hank explains when he invites me along to do errands. “So it’s not just tofu and broccoli all the time.”
I try to reason with him that I don’t need a special exception, but he’s firm on the proposal, so I give in. Imelda offers to stay home with Milo so we can get through our chores faster, to which the little minotaur boy objects, but then Grandma bribes him with baking brownies and he easily gives in.
Then we’re off in Hank’s car, leaving the suburbs behind. Before we stop at the store, though, Hank continues on down the highway.
“Where are we going?” I ask, watching the store fly past us.
“Oh, well, I figured we had a few hours where my mom and Milo are occupied, so...” He trails off without finishing, then takes a quick exit. I watch out the windows as the buildings thin out and the trees get taller, and soon, we’re pulling into Mirror Park.
Hank reaches into the back seat and grabs a backpack. “I threw together some food,” he says. “Thought we might have a little picnic, just the two of us.”
“Sneaky, sneaky. I’m impressed.”
Hank gives me a rare grin. “Thanks.”
He finds a parking spot and then puts on the backpack, and we hike off into the trees along the gravel path. There’s nobody else out on a weekday at noon except one or two people walking their dogs on the other side of Mirror Lake. After a few minutes, Hank seems to find the perfect spot, and he leads me off into the grass on one side of the path. There’s a grove here, where some brambles hide us from anyone walking by, and that’s where he settles and pats the ground.
“Sit with me?” he asks.
It’s so peaceful out here with birds chirping up in the trees that when I sit down, the stress leaves me in a whoosh. I breathe in the fresh air and fall back into the grass, spreading my arms and legs.
Hank chuckles. “Good, huh?”
I nod, staring up at the perfect blue sky with the occasional puff of cloud. “Beautiful.”
“Yeah, you are.”
I turn one critical eye on him and he chuckles to himself, then opens the backpack to pull out whatever he’s brought along. First, he takes out a familiar placemat from home and sets it down on the grass. Then he removes some food I recognize: bread and gouda cheese, which is one of the few cheeses I can bring myself to eat right now; dried figs, which have oddly become a favorite of mine since Imelda started bringing them over; and a whole pile of cashew nuts, which I’ve been craving terribly. I only mentioned it only in passing the other day, but he remembered.
