Chapter 46
“When can we do that again?”
The question left her mouth thin and tired, but it was not tired in the way that asked for sleep. I kept rubbing her red ass cheek with one hand and her messy pussy with the other. Cum was still leaking out of her in lazy pulses, sliding down toward the pond. The water lapped at her calves. Her tiny waist looked even smaller bent over the stone edge like that.
“Soon,” I said. “But not the same way.”
She turned her cheek against the ground and looked back at me, hazy. “There’s another way?”
“There is.”
I parted her ass with both thumbs. Her hole was small, tight, a shade darker than the rest of her, clenched shut as if it had never been meant to open. Compared to Sandra’s, it had almost no give. Soft, yes. Bubbly, no. Just a compact little ring sitting between cheeks that bounced only because I made them.
Martha twitched when I ran my finger over her asshole. “Brother? That’s… that’s not where you were.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because this one feels even better,” I lied a little, and also didn’t. “Stay still.”
She tried. She was bad at it. The moment the pad of my thumb brushed her asshole, her whole body flinched forward, and her thighs closed. She was sensitive there, huh?
I hooked an arm under her belly, dragging her back until her ass hung off the edge again.
“Martha.”
“It feels weird,” she whispered. “Dirty.”
“You said the same thing about my penis before you put it in your mouth.”
That landed. She went quiet, then nodded once, tiny and serious, like she was agreeing to another lesson and not to getting her ass opened at the family pond I had dug last night.
I scooped what was still leaking from her pussy and painted it over the ring. Warm. Slippery. She made a sound I had not heard from her yet, not a moan, not pain. A confused little “nn—” as if her body could not decide which category the touch belonged to.
One finger first.
I spent ten points of MP on the same numbing I had used inside her pussy, then pressed.
Her asshole fought me. Not dramatically. Just a stubborn, living squeeze, the kind that told the truth about how small she was. The tip of my finger sank in and stopped. Martha’s hands clawed at the dirt.
“Brother—wait. It feels… stran-uh!! Strange… ah—!”
“It feels like that in the beginning.” I worked the finger in to the first knuckle, then the second. Heat. Dry tightness under the slick. She clenched so hard I felt my fingerprint flatten.
She wasn’t relaxed. She was holding it with her shoulders up by her ears. I pressed my other hand between her shoulder blades and kept the finger where it was until the fluttering around it slowed.
“Does it hurt?”
A pause. She seemed almost offended that the answer was complicated.
“…No. It doesn’t hurt. It just feels like I have to push something out. And I don’t want to.”
Good. The achievement I had achieved from Sandra’s anal was doing its work. Pain was gone. The rest, the stretch, the instinct to reject, was still hers.
I folded the finger and rubbed the inside of the ring. Martha’s toes curled against my calf. A thin moan leaked out of her, surprised, as if she had been caught enjoying a thing she had not given permission to enjoy.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” I echoed.
“That… that spot. When you press there. It’s different from the front.”
I added a second finger.
That one made her voice crack.
“Too much—brother, that’s too much, I can feel both, I can feel you spreading—”
“I know.”
I scissored slowly. Her ass was so tight the fingers barely parted. Every time I opened them a fraction, her hole dragged them back together. She started rocking without meaning to, tiny abortive movements, half trying to escape, half trying to get the pressure to make sense. Sweat stood out on the small of her back. The pond water slapped higher when her knees slipped.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she gasped. “It feels like you’re inside a place that isn’t for this. But when you stop I want you to move again. That’s stupid.”
“It isn’t stupid.”
I pulled the fingers out. Her hole stayed a little open for a second, then cinched shut as if embarrassed. Martha made a wounded noise at the emptiness.
I stood in the shallows, lined myself up, and let the head kiss that clenched ring. Against her, I looked obscene. The contrast was worse than it had been with her pussy. Her waist fit in both my hands with room to spare. My cock laid a wet stripe up the cleft of her ass and made her shiver.
“Will that even fit?” she asked, the same question as before, only smaller now.
“It will.”
I spent another forty MP. Not for pain. There won’t be any. But for the muscle, to teach a first-time hole how to take something it had no practice taking. Then I pushed.
The head popped in with a thick, ugly little sound.
Martha screamed into her wrist.
Not pain. Overload. Her ass locked down so violently I saw white. She tried to crawl forward on her elbows, and I followed her, keeping that first inch, then two, buried in a heat that had no comparison to her pussy. Pussy was wet silk. This was a fist that did not know how to let go.
“Out—take it out—no, don’t, I don’t know, brother, it’s so full I can feel it in my stomach—”
“You can take more.”
“UNGGHHH!”
I laughed under my breath and gave her another inch. Her sentence died into a guttural moan. I recognized that sound. Sandra had made it too, once the body stopped arguing with the facts.
Halfway. That was all I was getting for now. Two, maybe three inches still outside, same as her pussy, because there was only so much room in a body that size. I held her there and rubbed her back.
“How is it?”
Martha’s answer came in pieces.
“Heavy… I feel like if I… move, you’ll tear… some… something, but you said it won’t hurt, and it doesn’t… it just… sits. And throbs. Your thing is throbbing in my butt, and I can count it. That’s—ahh—that’s… not normal.”
“You will get used to it.”
I pulled back until the ridge of the head tugged at her rim, then sank to the same depth again. Slow. Pond water smacked my thighs. Her bubbly ass rippled when I bottomed out against it; it pushed back, soft, the same quality I had slapped earlier. Every withdrawal dragged her hole outward. Every thrust folded it in.
She started crying without sobbing. Just wet eyes and an open mouth, strings of spit from how hard she was panting.
“Brother… ungg!! Brother! It’s going… too deep…”
I gave her a real thrust.
“UONN—!”
Her yell skipped across the water and died against the trees. I should have cared about the missing barrier array. I didn’t. I set a rhythm that was still merciful only in the sense that I was not jackhammering her through the stone. In every other sense, I was fucking her ass.
Short strokes because that was what she could take. Deep enough that my hips kissed her cheeks. Her pussy hung dripping and unused under us, leaking a mix of my earlier load and her own slick onto the pond. I reached around and found her clit with two fingers so her body would have somewhere to put the extra sensation.
Martha broke.
She came on the third pass over that nub, and when she came, her ass tried to crush me. I had to stop moving, or I would have followed her immediately. She clawed backward at my wrist, not to stop me, just to hold onto something while her hole fluttered and seized and tried to milk a cock it had met ten minutes ago.
“I can’t—I’m peeing!!!”
Haha.
I fucked her through it.
Standing at the edge was good until her knees gave out, so I lifted her by that tiny waist and kept her folded, toes scraping the water, ass presented up at me. The new angle let me watch everything. The way her rim clung. The thin shine of lube and cum. How small the rest of her looked, impaled like that. She reached back blindly, found my hip, and instead of pushing me away, she pulled.
“Harder,” she said, sounding shocked at herself.
I didn’t decline.
The wet slap of my body against her tight ass filled the clearing. She stopped making words. What came out were punched little cries, “ahn,” “hnn,” “brother,” stacked on top of each other until they were only sound. I felt the shift the same way I had with Sandra: the fight leaving the muscle, the hole learning the shape of me, the pleasure turning stupid and simple.
I lasted longer than the first two rounds because I wanted the image. Martha, first time in her ass, face turned sideways on the dirt, tongue out without her noticing, a string of drool to the ground, her little hole stretched around me and trying valiantly to look like it belonged that way.
When I got close, I didn’t hold back.
I slammed in to the depth she could take and came.
It was a mean orgasm. Thick. Pulse after pulse into a place that had no practice holding it. I felt the overflow immediately, heat squeezing out around the base of my cock because there was nowhere else for it to go. Martha shook and came again off the sensation alone, a weaker, longer clench, moaning like she was being wrung out.
I stayed put until the last twitch left me.
When I withdrew, it was slow on purpose. Her asshole clung and then let go with a soft, filthy sound. It did not gape like Sandra’s. It tried to close and failed halfway, a small dark O winking at me, cum welling up and spilling down over her empty pussy into the pond I had worked so hard to keep clean.
I didn’t care about the pond.
Martha reached back with two fingers, not quite brave enough to touch the hole, and touched the mess instead.
“…There’s so much.”
“There is.”
I sat on the edge beside her and pulled her into my lap. She hissed when her abused hole met my thigh, then settled, small breasts against my chest, face hidden in my neck. The stamina potion was the only reason she was still awake.
“Was that the other way?” she asked, already knowing.
“That was the other way.”
A beat.
“We can do that again too,” she said, very quietly, as if saying it louder would make her a different person than the girl who had jumped into the water shouting yahoo. “Not right now. But we can.”
I combed her wet hair back and looked at the trees, the unmarked water, the absence of an illusion array I still was not strong enough to carve.
“We can,” I said.
Martha’s breathing evened out. She wasn’t asleep. She was waiting to see if I would ask for more. I kissed the top of her head and let the pond keep slapping the stone, and for a while that was all the world was: her tight little body in my lap, my cum cooling on her ass, and the knowledge that the strawberries were no longer only for looking.
Haha.