Chapter 33

Greta crawled onto the bed. She moved like a big cat on the prowl, all slow, graceful, fluid motion. Her eyes watched me and I really felt as if I were being hunted, only not as a meal. There was a certain forwardness to her that did more for me than anything else. She was toned, not muscular. She didn’t have the huge breasts that I seemed to both attract and felt attracted to, but that didn’t stop my reaction.

Her eyes dropped. I was still wearing that silly costume for House Cerenkov, but at the moment, I didn’t mind. She could see my reaction and she smiled.

She moved to the edge of the bed and gestured for me to get closer to her. I did. She didn’t use her hands. She simply rubbed her cheeks against me through the clingy pants. Other than Sarah grabbing me earlier, I had no idea how direct contact would feel. It was different, yet amazing.

Greta nudged at the shirt, so I took it off.

She looked up at me. Her expression was determined, almost feral. Then she leaned into me, pressing her face to my abs. I felt her lick my belly, along the edge of the pants. Then she gripped it with her lips, pulled away and down.

I pushed at the pants, but realized they wouldn’t simply fall to the floor like normal pants would. I would have to pull them off more like giant socks.

Greta, however, was happy with them simply out of the way. She looked me over for a moment as if trying to determine the best way to approach. Then she leaned toward me, her lips parted, and she sucked me into her mouth as deeply as she could.

For a moment, I let it be what it was: a pleasant, wonderful sensation. Then I remembered why we were doing this. True, she probably thought the direct approach was the best way to start, but I had to bring about her orgasms first, and if I let her keep going the way she was, I was going to end up trying to drown her.

I did my best to put what she was doing out of my head. I thought back to my last efforts to forge bonds. With Ella it had been glowing yarn twisted in tangles. With Chloe it was dials and gauges. I didn’t care for the yarn, and the dials and gauges seemed too clunky. This time I saw a screen of digital readouts and controls. It allowed me to make adjustments in the smallest increments, not to mention give me feedback on how Greta was feeling and whether what we were doing was taking us in the right direction or not.

According to the readouts, Greta loved doing what she was doing. I could feel her bump the back of her throat repeatedly and each bump corresponded to a series of jumps and spikes in various attributes.

I thought about those attributes and their response to her efforts. I tweaked settings so she got more out of it. Her efforts changed noticeably. One graph bar indicated her approach to orgasm. Once it was maxed, she would be too. Another bar showed me her power. She wasn’t as strong as any of my other Stirpi, but then, from what I had gleaned of her life while she helped me practice back at the warehouse, she didn’t fully rely on her power when chasing down law-breaking Magi. She saw it as a supplement used to enhance what she could already do.

Currently what she was doing was pushing me toward my own orgasm. I looked and found myself dangerously close to slipping off that cliff. I dialed back my sensitivity so I wouldn’t suddenly blast off in her mouth.

Greta, on the other hand, was racing toward her own orgasm.

I toned down her settings just a bit and thought to help her in other ways. I had to lean over some and I unhooked her bra. I pushed it off her shoulders and she threw it across my room while she continued to rock back and forth, taking me to the back of her throat almost forcibly with each oscillation.

I ran my hands over her bare back, then down her sides to her breasts. She wasn’t as big as most of my girls but she had plenty. I fondled, squeezed, and pinched every part of her breasts.

Greta’s motion became erratic. She was closing in on her first orgasm. I thought it was amazing considering I hadn’t even touched her anywhere else yet. I understood the idea of fellatio was erotic to some women, enough so they would be wet and willing by the time they had a guy good and hard, but this was incredible. She didn’t just get a rise from the act, she was close to orgasm.

I wanted to help push her over. Tweaking her settings again seemed like cheating, so I stretched out over her and pushed my hand under her panties. She was hot and wet. I couldn’t reach her clit from this angle, so I pressed two fingers inside her. It was more than enough.

Greta locked up with me pressed to the back of her throat. I could feel her swallowing around me, which meant she probably couldn’t breathe. I waited only a few seconds and then pulled my hips back.

She gasped.

I rolled her over on the bed while she caught her breath. Her whole body was flushed but the strain eased as she took in more oxygen.

Before I thought she would be ready, she pulled off her panties, threw them across the room, and pointed at my pants.

I pulled them off and threw them in the same discarding manner. When I looked at her again, she rolled over onto her side, away from me. She held out her hand, which I took and then she got up onto her knees, pulling me to her, behind her. Once my chest was pressed to her back, she pulled my arms around her, and cupped her own breasts with my hands.

Either she had enjoyed having my hands on her breasts or she knew how much I liked them. More than likely it was the latter, but I hoped there was some part of her that thought of the former.

She reached between us and pulled me down so that I sprang up between her legs. Then she pressed me up against herself while she rocked her hips, rubbing herself along the top of my shaft. I could feel her heat and moisture.

Not sure what she really enjoyed or by how much before I started messing with her attributes, I let them return to their original settings. Greta heated up quickly as she rubbed against me. Then she pulled away from my groping hands and dropped to her own hands. She arched her back and bounced her butt back against me a couple of times.

I got the hint. I pulled back, rubbed my crown against her soppy wetness and then pressed my way into her.

She was tight, but that didn’t stop her from forcing herself back onto me until her cheeks were pressed firmly to my pelvis. Just like before, she began to rock back and forth. Her movements were no more aggressive or ambitious than before, but each time she drove herself back onto me, it made that wonderful slapping noise that I enjoyed so much.

I had to pay close attention to both of our orgasm monitors. Due to her tightness, I was rapidly approaching my own orgasm. Greta was gaining on me, but it was going to be close. If I went off first, then we would have to start again. I could tell that one more good orgasm from her would give me all of her power, but I had to make sure she went first.

I grabbed her cheeks and countered her movements. I slapped against her harder, driving myself that much deeper into her. With any of my girls, this might bump their cervix, but with Greta, either it wasn’t an issue or it was what she wanted. Her attributes showed me how much she was enjoying what we were doing, so I kept it up. The problem was, I was enjoying it more this way too.

So, it was a race.

Greta’s rise to orgasm came even with mine only microseconds before we both hit our orgasms. I was so blinded by the sensation that I couldn’t concentrate well enough to know what was up or down, much less whether she had given in to me before I had given back to her.

My orgasm broke and I fell to my side on the bed, pulling Greta down with me. Both of us fought to gulp down air. By the time I could concentrate, I noticed that her power bar was empty. She had reached orgasm first, and she would remain empty until I gave her enough power back to forge the bond.

Greta raised her head and looked back at me over her shoulder. Then she gingerly rolled her hip and swung her torso around so that she cuddled into my arms. I was still buried hilt-deep in her, but for the moment, it didn’t matter.

Sweat and the smell of sex hung in the air like some kind of odd perfume that lingers after the woman wearing it has left the room. Yet we both remained there, huddled together, breathing in the musky smells as if it were the most precious thing in the world to breathe.

Greta rolled her head over to look at me. “Well, what more do we need?”

I checked our readouts again. “I’ve got to give you more, then I think the two of us are good.”

She nodded and rolled away from me. As she pulled off me, there was a slurping, sucking noise until I popped out. I felt mortified for some reason. Greta simply looked at me and shrugged. I felt a little better. Then she pushed me over so I lay on my back and she lay perpendicular to me. All I could see was the back of her head and the length of her body. However, I felt everything she did. I felt the way she lightly drew her nails up along the inside of my thigh. I felt her tickle my sac, not in that ticklish-laughing way, but with enough pressure to make it fun and sexy too. Then she drew her fingertips along the underside of my shaft as I lay on my belly. A soft tickle at the base of my crown, and I was as hard as I could be. Then she grabbed me at the base. Her hand couldn’t encompass me completely, but she more than able to hold me up. She leaned in, and I felt her lick me.