Centaur Erotica: Becoming The Centaur's Wenches (Taboo Hucow FFM Step Threesome Pregnancy Historical Erotic Romance)

by Daisy N. Chains

  The Dragon threw his hands up in the air and opened his mouth, and as he did so a fiery breath tore through the air like a flame thrower, singeing Jeff's eyelashes. An ear-splitting roar of glory and pleasure accompanied it, and the Dragon's dick aimed itself straight at me. It rippled and vibrated, as the Dragon beat his own chest like a gorilla, and another fountain of snow-white jizz flew through the air like Christmas party poppers, showering down upon me and completely cum-covering me. I knew the Dragon had big balls, but this was ridiculous—he had more cum than a hundred men.

  The beast let out something that was similar to a contented chuckle, as Jeff came too, his load tiny by comparison as he ruined his leather loafers.

  I had cum in me, and on me. The sperm indiscriminately filled my womb, paddling.

  I lay there for a moment or two, stunned but regaining my senses. I felt pride in the fact that I had made this legendary creature orgasm—I had tamed the wild beast and fulfilled its natural primal desire. I felt the lukewarm, sticky cream-pie dribble out of me. I touched a blob of it and brought it to my lips. There was a lush taste to it and an almost rubbery consistency that really whet my appetite. I cupped my hand and caught it as it dripped, before bringing it to my mouth and gulping it down. For the first time since our encounter with the Dragon, I began to smile.

  The beast glanced about with a barbarous grin, displaying horrifying huge fangs and a satisfied glint in his eyes. He waved his tail and sprinted off into the depths of the jungle.

  At that point I had no idea whether it was possible for a human woman to get impregnated by a dragon. But given the amount he had ejaculated I figured it was pretty likely. Jeff had managed to untie himself, and crawled through the dank soil over to me.

  I thought back to the Dragon's expression, still raw in my mind. He could hunt, he could harvest, and I could help feed. I sure had the bountiful mammaries to do that. I was sure it was cosy in his cave.

  “Let’s never come back here,” muttered Jeff.

  “Sure, sweetie,” I said softly.

  I kind of meant it. But when we got home to the city, I booked a flight back here instead.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  By

  Daisy N. Chains

  I gazed out of the window at the ocean, admiring the sun’s orange-peel-like reflection on the rolling waves.

  “Hey lil sis! Table four needs their appetizers.” I heard a voice from over my shoulder. God, I hated it when she called me that. Just because her dad was banging my mom didn't mean shit.

  I shook my head. “I know they do, Sally. I'll get to it when I'm good and ready.”

  I guess I wouldn't have minded, and would have acknowledged her more if she wasn't such a bossy-boots at work. Being a waitress wasn't my ideal occupation, but it was made bearable by the fact that the restaurant we worked in was aboard this monumental cruise vessel. And it wasn't as though this job was forever—it was just a temporary thing to do after finishing college, to make ends meet. The travelling and sunbathing out on the deck was nice, so I did enjoy certain parts of it.

  Sally was a year older than me. And I guess she wasn't so bad. Already the men on the ship had started to notice her, and twist and turn with blatant admiration every time she strolled past. But I was capable of turning a few heads myself.

  Every shift Sally took this ‘mom’ position. Just because she got paid slightly more—which was because of the slight age gap. I know someone had to be in charge, but earlier she had completely ignored me when I told her about the strange-looking ship I'd seen silhouetted on the horizon. I wasn't trying to be funny, I had seen the ship, looking all dark and menacing, unlike anything I'd spotted on the seas previously.

  I guess we were friends outside of shift hours, and maybe I did treat her like a bit of a slave-driver whenever we were working. And this particular evening, I was taking the orders and Sally was at the till. A sluggish drip of patrons came and went, most grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading down to the bar to drink the night away. Our eight-customer rush thinned back out and the place was almost empty again. It was a pretty easy job, and I was grateful for the paycheck. I dealt with table four and thought about the strange ship again.

  I got why Sally ignored me about it. I did joke around a lot, but this was genuine. I was on my way to the restaurant when I spotted it. It looked black and old. And kind of dirty. Our ship was obviously way bigger, but this other ship looked mean, kind of sinister. I contemplated telling the Captain about it after my shift. But I figured he probably knew—this was a pretty hi-tech cruise ship we were aboard—I’m sure they had radars and all that other stuff and had spotted it a mile off. It was probably no threat. I'd probably watched too many movies.

  ‘Frickin pirate ship’ were the very first words out of my mouth when I saw Sally in the restaurant, but she clearly wasn't interested. Perhaps I had said ‘Frickin pirate ship’ a few too many times, but it wasn’t like we were that busy with clientele.

  I had just finished re-stocking the napkins when I glanced up and saw some new customers walk in. A family. They took a seat, and I gave them a couple of minutes to peruse the menu before I walked up with my pad and pen, ready to take their order. The man cleared his throat.

  I offered a smile. “Hi there.”

  The husband and wife were already looking pissed and drained. The mother had placed her child, who was sat in a big plastic carrier, on the seat beside her. I looked at the little youngster. You’re why Mommy and Daddy are acting like weenies, I thought to myself, and couldn't help but chortle. The hubby with the throat clearing issue spoke first.

  “Can I take your order?” I offered.

  “We’ll have two mediums. One a margherita, the other pepperoni. You get that, missy?”

  My smile had gone. “For real?” I sighed. “One margherita, one pepperoni. Both mediums.”

  “And I’ll have a coffee.”

  “And I’ll have a diet coke," added the wife. And then, as if to explain why her husband was a dick, “Not enough sleep. Kids, y'know?”

  “Fortunately I don't,” I said. She looked a little shocked at my reply. “Comin' right up,” I added, and walked back behind the counter to the kitchen.

  After giving the chef the order, I walked back to the counter, and saw Sally standing there, her hands on her hips. I knew some words I probably didn't want to hear were about to come out of her mouth, and I braced myself for what my darling 'sister' was about to spit out.

  “Is that drinks tray going to sit there all day?” She moaned, and walked past me towards the kitchen. I couldn't help but giggle at her pathetic power trip.

  Just then the door opened again, and I caught a smell of something kind of strange. I readied myself to greet the new customer and offer them a window seat when I laid eyes on what, and who, it actually was. He lowered his head as he walked into the restaurant to avoid whacking his cranium on the door frame. He was wearing a big black hat, and had an eye patch over his right eye. For a moment there I honestly thought that there was some fancy dress party going on down in the bar. But man, I was wrong.

  My eyes felt like they were too big for their sockets as I stared at the man, shocked at what I was witnessing under the bright fluorescent lighting of the restaurant. The man muttered something as he strode forward, at no one in particular, and walked into the centre of the room. His chin was slightly pointed, underneath a black goatee beard, and his mono-brow was a dense caterpillar that hovered above his serious, shadowy eyes. Gappy teeth were visible through his open lips. I opened my mouth—either to scream or sob, I wasn't sure at that point—but no noise came out except a silent gasp. Too frightened to talk, I turned my back to the pirate and caught Sally’s eye through the steel rack that split the kitchen area from the serving counter. ‘Frickin.’ I mouthed at her. She narrowed her eyes at me, baffled. ‘Frickin. Frickin. Pirate. Ship.’ I mouthed it more carefully, but it was futile. Sally was one dumb bitch.

  “Becca?” she shouted. “I can't hear
you!”

  “Pirate!” I said in a half whisper, half shout, at last getting my voice back.

  “Huh?” Sally said, and walked around the rack, out to the counter area. She now had a full view of what I was talking about. I swear she was contemplating complaining that I hadn't offered the man a seat, when she realized what I had been trying to tell her. “Holy shhh...” her words trailed off.

  Just then, the Captain's voice came over the Tannoy. “Alert! Alert! Everybody report to deck. We have an emergen—” Those were the only words that would be uttered over the loudspeaker, as they were followed by rustling, muffled shouting, and a strange squelching noise.

  "What the fuck is going on?" I whispered to my stepsister, who usually seemed to have all the answers. But this time, she stood silent with her jaw wide open.

  She was very pale, and my knees felt like they were about to crumple, but I gripped the countertop to steady myself. We stared at the man. With a huge grubby hand he removed the absurd hat that he had rested onto his mono-browed head, uncovering his skull 'n' bones bandana. On a normal guy, it would have been an act of polite etiquette, taking off one’s hat when entering a dining establishment. However, I got the feeling the pirate was merely readying himself for something. He undid his shirt, revealing an extremely hairy chest, his bulging muscles rippling underneath.

  The chef, along with the handful of customers and waitresses started to panic. The cut-short loudspeaker announcement had definitely raised some immediate concerns. Some clambered for the exit and escaped, some got up from their table and stood there gawping. The pirate effortlessly picked up a table and flung it across the doorway, preventing anyone else from getting out. He meant business, that was for sure.

  The new parents and their baby were the only people stuck in the restaurant with us, which now felt more like a death trap. Me and Sally cowered behind the counter, still unseen, and watched with enraptured attention.

  Suddenly, the pirate turned his head and stared straight at us. Sally screamed, but I just looked on in horror as the man leered at us.

  “Leg it!” I instructed to my sister, now taking charge. She could talk a good game, but I could take control when it mattered. I grabbed her hand and we ran out from the counter and headed for the door. We were struggling with the overturned table that was blocking the exit, when we heard heavy footsteps behind us.

  We turned around, stunned, waiting to see what the pirate's next move would be. Amazingly, he didn't seem so interested in us all of a sudden. He had stopped still, a couple of feet from us. He glanced around the room and sniffed loudly. He had caught a whiff of something. Something he seemed to like.

  He turned and paced towards the family I had taken the pizza order from, just minutes earlier. The throaty man was cowering behind the table, his wife sat petrified.

  “Run to the kitchen!” I yelled at the woman, but it was too late. The pirate clutched the woman around the waist, grabbed a handful of hair and flung her, belly-down on the table.

  “Richard, help!” she wailed, battling and hammering at the pirate's hands, but it was no use, he was far too powerful.

  Richard didn't do anything, he just hid where he was.

  “Hey, leave her alone!” I yelled, really finding my courage, but the pirate wasn't listening.

  He ripped off the woman's blouse and snapped her bra at the back, letting her fat, fleshy breasts hang free off the edge of the table.

  The pirate started caressing the woman's jugs. He was doing it in a gradual, deliberate fashion, pushing in continuous motions. I got the impression he had done this before. He seemed pretty good at it. The woman made tiny sighs and yelps as he did so. I spotted moisture leaking from her nipples, and it started dripping down onto the floor beneath her. I became aware of what was going on, as I felt my pussy pulse under my work pants.

  The pirate bent over and craned his neck up, as if drinking from a high school water fountain. He squeezed a nipple hard, and a jet of snow white milk sprayed through his gappy teeth and into his awaiting mouth. He got on his knees and lapped at the small puddle of milk that had pooled on the floor, like a kitten to a bowl. The woman was visibly shaking and trembling. When he had licked up the mess on the floor, he raised his head and tongued and suckled on the woman's tits like a baby piglet. More and more milk flowed out down the pirate's throat and he gargled and gulped away.

  “I’ve flown the Jolly Roger, I’ve sailed the seven seas, but I’ve never sucked two mammaries as bountiful as these!” the pirate sing-songed.

  The sight of him milking her made me squirm. But he wasn't done.

  He placed her husband's coffee cup under her jiggling left breast, and pinched her nipple hard with his thumb and forefinger. She let out a painful shriek, as the pirate milked her fleshy melon downwards like an udder, right into the cup. Her right breast would suffer the same fate, and she was milked ruthlessly, an embarrassed expression washing over her face as she glanced up at me and we shared an awkward moment.

  The pirate lifted the cup to his mouth, closed his one visible eye, tilted his head back and took one big swig as if it were a pitcher of ale, downing the caffeine and protein rich concoction in one.

  He opened his eye and said in a deep, booming voice, “Ah harr me hearties! Let's really get this party started!”

  I wrinkled my nose up and buried my face in Sally's shoulder, trying to block out what was happening. But then I realized something—I was starting to get wet. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it's the truth. I don't know if it was the fear, but my panties were definitely starting to get damp.

  An excited tingle ran to my erect nipples and clitoris. I peered back at the situation in the room and took a deep breath. I contemplated trying to move the heavy table again, but part of me had given up, part of me had surrendered. Part of me wanted this. The pirate walked towards me and Sally and I knew what he wanted. I knew what was expected of us. It was time to get nasty.

  Before us was a sight much more terrifying than just about anything that might be swimming about at the bottom of the ocean. Here was a proper pirate, a bulkily big, treacherously uncontrolled man that may rip our two tender bodies of tissue and bone to chunks with ease. He had arrived from tale into actuality.

  He grabbed us, yanking us near him in a wrestling hold, so we were squeezed against him, pushed next to each other. We were squished in his biceps, each feeling lightweight versus his significant mass. However, there was definitely something about feeling so small that was nearly enchanting instead of intimidating. Captive in his forearms there was the vow of security and stability—presuming he didn't squeeze the life out of us. His flannel shirt was still unbuttoned, and as we both moved against his hairy chest, we were smitten by the gentleness of his fur and the scent of his pirate skin. He smelt like sweat and sea-salt, like firewood and furniture polish. It truly was a tempting and terrific flavor, a larger-than-life experience of meaty manliness.

  Mine and Sally's faces came up to approximately the level of the pirate's pierced teats and for motives neither of us could justify we both started to sense the desire to locate them and suckle on them. From within his barrel chest region we listened to a large heart pounding, its rhythmic thumping offering a melodic consistent beat that comforted us like a cradlesong.

  From my vantage point at his left nipple, I saw the pirate's heavy hand push down on the top of Sally's head. I looked down and saw that my sister had unzipped the pirate, and she was licking and sucking at his enormous shaft. It was ridiculously big. And thick. She appeared nervous, but as her tongue lapped over the head and took as much of the gigantic cock into her oral cavity as she could, I was certain she was enjoying it. The pirate held my long luscious locks in his grubby palms, and too directed me down to his dick. I contemplated declining—it was almost scarily big—but he smacked my ass with one massive, wide-open hand, encouraging me to do as he wanted.

  I squealed and kneeled, and looked into my sister's anxious blue eyes as her cheeks went
beet red and she tracked her tongue alongside the pulsating vein on the bottom of the pirate’s schlong. I readied myself as I observed Sally, prior to allowing my tongue to warily lap over his mighty balls and the root of his member. I suckled intensely on his sack as he groaned in gratification. We collaborated with our lips as best as we were able. I raised my head to assist my sis with the wide 'shroom—it being big enough for us to simultaneously attach our lips to it. We moved our heads up and down as we nursed fierily, the buccaneer tugging on our hair as we did so.

  I assumed he planned to unload in our mouths, but just as we felt his vast width ripple under our tongues, he shoved us off him. We embraced one another in dread, as the pirate towered above us threateningly.

  Sally began to crawl away from the pirate on her knees, but he was abruptly upon her, grasping her work trousers and tugging them off. They tore like pieces of paper, leaving Sally kneeling in just her white thong and shirt. The pirate leaned down and pulled her shirt up and over her head, her perky breasts jiggling under her bra.

  “Jesus, Becca... do something,” Sally wailed, but I had no idea what she expected me to do. So I just knelt there and watched. She yelled and attempted to scamper free. But the pirate gripped both sides of her fleshy butt, stopping her from getting away. He started to rub her smooth flesh like he was a professional masseuse, before he smacked a hand down dominantly on her ample cheeks.

  Sally moaned, on her hands and knees, her lower back arching as she raised her buttocks. Her thong would be torn off next, uncovering her shaven pussy for all to see. But she was obviously aroused, as one of her fingers fiddled with her erect nipples. Her love-juice trickled down her legs as she verbally complained. But for each objection she made, her backside received a hard smack.