Page 59 of Penny for Your Saints

“I need you to fuck me until that knot of yours can stretch my little pink pussy.” She entreats me, trying to writhe beneath me—forcing me to move, but she’s too small—too slight. I’ve got at least forty pounds of pure muscle and a rock-hard, full knot with a head full of her perfume; she’s not doing anything unless I let her.

I disengage my arms from beneath hers, rocking back onto my elbows—my hips locked in place, unwilling to cede even an inch as my hands find the hinges of her knees.

I fold her against herself and give her a few brisk, deep strokes—my knot stopping with a jolt against her slick pussy lips with each seeking thrust.

“Harder,” she instructs—and I put more of my considerable weight behind me as I throw my hips with increasing speed.

She lets out a long low moan as I fuck her hard and fast—Caz and Quentin reaching their own pace of desperation beside us.

“I need your knot Sébastien!” Louise’s mewling plea draws my attention back from Caz and Tin Tin—and I adjust myself until I have her knees against my chest—her body curled back onto herself tightly as I begin to pound her as hard as I can, the full depth and power of the mating press needing only a few mighty thrusts before my knot is sucked suddenly and completely inside her.

Louise screams out and my entire body stiffens and spasms—my knot suddenly clutched by her white-hot tightness.

I barely recognize the sound that leaves my mouth as my pleasure spills over into Louise; my knot sealing my seed inside her, keeping us joined as I struggle to ease off of my heels.

Panting and exhausted—we struggle awkwardly; my massive frame suspended above Louise on the animal skins so that I don’t crush her as we remain locked together.

Tin-tin and Caz—already catching their breath beside us after their own climax—help Louise and I on to our sides, one of her legs still hooked up and over my hip as we lay there, my knot still captive in her pussy.

Momentarily drained, the four of us lay in the nest—Caz nuzzled against my back and bare ass, his soft cock warm against the curve of my glutes; Q—his cock already hard again—pressed between Louise’s ass cheeks as he levers his hips lazily against her—sliding his slick hardness languidly up and down between her cheeks.

Frank hasn’t even made it back to the cabin yet when I doze off for my first cat nap of the afternoon.

I knot Louise again, and Quentin once before Frank finally makes it back and I have to tap out and pass out for a real break.

When I finally come around, it’s late and my mouth feels like burning sandpaper, my abdominal muscles and glutes aching with the exertion of the afternoon and evening; my stomach howling with emptiness.

As the rest of my senses begin returning to me, I can make out the faint sounds of breathing—soft, wet slapping sounds coming from just outside the drawn bed sheet curtains of the nest.

I crawl, naked—limbs still heavy with sleep, to the edge of the nest and poke my head through the overlapping fabric.

My dry throat struggles to swallow down nothing as my eyes are filled with the sight of Frank—sweat beaded on his brow as he struggles to remain sitting upright on the wooden bench, his back against the edge of the farm table by the tin wash tub and water pump; his knot still locked inside Q’s ass as Q remains fully seated on Frank’s cock—Louise gripping the edge of the farm table, her feet flat on the wooden bench as she squat rides Q’s massive cock, sweat rolling down her spine to the dimplesof her lower back as her ass slaps against Tin-tin’s thighs, his swollen balls.

Even though the sight makes my lower abdominal muscles ache with sudden flexion, my cock is slow to harden after all the action earlier. I’m only a gamma after all—my stamina is pretty legendary, but I’m no alpha.

Who knows how long Frank has been at it since Caz and I passed out from sheer exhaustion, but the dogged look on his face shows that even he may be reaching his limit.

I stumble to my feet and step into an abandoned pair of boxers. In the dim glow of the twinkle lights, I can’t tell if they’re mine or not. I just don’t wanna freeze my balls off in this cabin. The fire hasn’t exactly been a priority—and now there's barely the glow of a few embers left in the soft bed of ash.

Slowly, I orbit the far end of the farm table—watching Frank go increasingly slack beneath Tin-tin and Loulu as they grind against each other. Their gyrating reaches a fever pitch as Quentin lets out a muffled cry between Louise’s breasts as she locks his key-cock inside her, her whole body shuddering as she bears down on him, the whites of her eyes catching the moonlight as she loses herself to the pleasure of it.

The three of them balance in this delicate pulsing, panting, whimpering mess as I pump out a glass of cold water for myself, my cock twitching lazily—not quite able to rally again so soon through my exhaustion and dehydration.

Suddenly their small tower lists forward—and I drop my metal cup into the basin—rushing to steady Q and Loulu before they topple off of Frank, finally exhausted, their eyes already nearly shut.

Frank looks relieved as Tin-tin eases forward—Frank’s knot’s finally gone down enough to release him from the clutches of Tin-tin’s tightness. Louise and Quentin still fit together like a pair of drowsy puzzle pieces; his cock locked deep inside hersigma pussy—Frank’s cum dripping from between Q’s sculpted glutes as I help guide the two of them—Louise clinging to him like a leaf in the storm as he carries her into the bedsheet bower, collapsing into the nest just behind Caz, his soft snores mingling with the sound of Quentin and Louise’s slowing pants.

Cock soft, hanging between his spread thighs, Frank slumps against the table and gives me a wicked grin, reaching behind himself on the table to grab a dishcloth.

“You gonna keep gawking at my dick, Sebby, or you gonna grab me a glass of water?” he grunts out barely above a whisper, swabbing at himself clumsily with the ironically rooster printed tea towel.

“Pfft, for once, neither of us is in shape to make good on anything.” I blow a raspberry through my lips and pass him my metal cup with the remainder of the water I poured for myself, turning away from his laughter, stooping to pull a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from my jacket—still where I left it on the floor earlier this afternoon—flopping down on the bench beside Frank.

“Speak for yourself, frog legs,” he scoffs, smacking his lips after slugging down the remainder of the water, groaning slightly under his breath as he rocks up onto his feet and shuffles to the water pump, treating me to a spectacular view of his sculpted ass, his muscular thighs and exquisitely carved back.

I snort a laugh at myself and shake it off, turning away from the glorious sight as I place a cigarette between my lips and light it.

“After a little more rehydration, a piss, a bogie—and I’ll be ready to make any one of you little sluts scream for me again.“ Frank winks at me over his shoulder as he fills his cup—and I contemplate taking him up on the offer, but haven’t bottomed in what feels like an age—so I decide against it, even if I am due tohave my prostate milked like a—mon dieu, am I already getting hard again?

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