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A long slick line coils against your leg, as it slithers and wraps a possessive limb down to the length of your knee. Your skirt is raised, as a larger one circles a loose ring against your hip, and drips almost acid like residue against your crease. You feel your thighs bow out, as a tethered serpent rubs against the edge of your panty line. Another follows down the line of your ass, and slips down the slope of your torso.
It's wet. It's sticky, as it wraps itself around your body languidly. It curls and curls, holds you upright in the air as you sit in it like a bean bag chair. You can barely breathe as you think about it. Think about the way it holds you tight. Holds you so secure you dare not slip off more than the tip.
The tip. You bite your lip, as your head bubbles with thoughts of being spread, just so. Bucked knees, and widely rude gestures as it stretches your legs out even further. It follows your mind's place as a coil of slathered wet skin meets against your breast. Pushing up into it, and wrapping around it like a child. Like it's possessive. Like as if it's sentient.
You moan as another tentacle slips against you panty, probing at it. The lavender linen soaking a line against the slit. As dampness follows dampened, you skirt a hand to coax at it. To rub it warmly against yourself, as you're met with a cold retribution. A furrowed force that meshes with your body, entangling itself within you. It forces itself against you. It pushes, and pushes.
The slimy little thing doesn't know the difference. It undulates against your pussy through your clothes, slipping unknown liquids against you're already sore spot. It pushes, and pushes, and you bite your skin to the color of maroon. You shade yourself hot, as it likens to you. Rubbing your body up and down, and up and down. It's a riveting act, one that's gotten you to cant your hips upward. Up until you're rolling your body.
Up until you're filled to your lungs with heat. You spread your legs wide, as wide as they can go, as pink and red dust over your entire body. Freckling you with goosebumps. Freckling you with sweat.
Once it devours through you and your soaked panties, it starts to pump itself shallowly. The thickness of the band holds true, as it makes your underwear act like some sort of barrier or condom. Not that you hope to get pregnant from these events. But there's a certain appeal to everything as you swallow the loose spit in your mouth.
You suck in a breath, shuddering as it presses it's tendrils against your everything. Against your warmth, against your breast. It slivers around your nipples, and pushes it out. To stand more erect. To stand more at attention.
Eventually the games go on for too long, and you feel a tear at your garments, as it starts to pulverize you. It goes in and out of you at lightning speeds, you can hardly keep up. That, and you can barely breathe as another coil starts to wrap around your neck.
You can feel, but you can't breathe. You open your mouth for air to make a passageway, but another tentacle goes for your tongue, and lodges itself in your mouth. It tapers from the bottom, but gets larger the further it goes.
It's like you're being consumed. All too well can you feel the length stroke across your tonsils. Stroke across your cavities. It's like an out of body experience, as you feel girth more than you feel air. Your eyes roll back, as your back arches into a perfect bow. Bones jutting out of you, creeping at your hips, your collar, your back.
Your hands tick from all the nerves, and you feel many more legions of things scrape against your opened palm. You pet the cobra for what it is, as it wraps you into a hug. Pushing your torso out, as it makes you levitate from the ground. Your feet dangle uselessly, your arms hung at your sides.
You feel to the brim of getting fucked. That's exactly what's going on.
Your eyes roll themself shut again, as it hits at a certain spot for you. It's dark, oozing mysteriousness and liquid condensation. Muscles contracting as you try to relax, but your heart pounds as hard as that thing pumps. Pulls all the strings attached to your bones and melt them off the sensation of your tongue.
One, you can't really feel right now.
Just when you think you feel at the utmost filled. Something slides itself against your ass, and probes and berates you. It's trying to get you fit to burst. It's trying to wreak havoc in every wake that it possibly could! You'd groan if you had the freedom to do so, but you don't. Instead, you keen yourself as far away from it as you futily could.
It lunges itself at your core, as it sneaks its way further into your cavities. It balls up, and twists itself uncomfortably inside you. It proceeds to fuck you, fuck you like a rationed dog. It pumps, it curls, it beckons you. It owns you.
You're at your limit, when your cunt starts to twitch, and your body starts jittering. There are spurts at your thigh, as your muscles contract. Your head's full on glowing, your eyes are blinded, your tongue is surged.
You feel something shoot inside you, first your wrecked hole. Than your mouth, until finally it comes in every cavity that it's wrapped around. You feel your eyes water, your lips quiver, as you taste a distinct sweetly laced tinge. It loads all its assets inside of you. Your belly's waiting. Your gait, your throat, your lungs.
You drip.
You drip streams, as everything starts to slowly seep out of you. Running down your thighs, your chin, your legs. It runs rivers of flow, straight out of your waiting stomach. You still feel constricted, but the tentacles start to loosen up on you as time goes on. You wait for it. You wait for all of it, as you buzz with power.
They lay you on the ground, gently, might you add. As your limbs feel most recognizably the consistency of jello. You lay their sopping, wet, but fulfilled. A hand goes to your most tender part, as you look at the liquid oozing out of your body.
You stare at it for a long time, before your head hits the wall. Your lips bruised red, it stings against the chilling air of the cavern you lay residedly in. You think you earned yourself about a nap, so you proceed to pass out.
That's when you wake up.
You're in your comfortable bed, within your comfortable sheets. You blink curiously, as you pat down your stomach and your other regions. You're in your nighting gown, as you feel around your body for any probing misconstruancies.
You find nothing wrong.
The only thing wrong is how hot your loins are, and you shiver in grattitude when you close your legs. The steadying beat of your heart thrums out of your chest, as your vision blurs and clears to the standard of the room.
"Wow," Is all you have to say to yourself, as you put your hand to your lips.