I Love Cake Fucks [Sketch]
Look. I tried to think up a better title. I really did. Three weeks later this is the best I've got. ( ?° ?? ?°)
-valka- wanted to get something for their bday, and ran this idea by me! Always down to try new things. I wouldn't say -my- first reaction upon seeing a thick, moist birthday cake would be "wow, hmm, I'm gonna stick my penis through that", but then again, I'm also not Terra. And we already know the kind of shenanigans she likes to get up to.
I guess it started with "I'm gonna stick my dick in that" as much as it did "I'm gonna get completely naked in the workplace break room".....Check out my Patreonto get access to stories as they're finished & some other fun bonuses! (I recently started a new story project, another medieval fantasy drama romance w/ poly elements >:3)
Terra poked her head out of the room and looked down the hallway one direction, then the other, and then the first again, the serpent-headed end of her tail doing the same. Satisfied with her situation for now the chimera smirked to herself, bit her lip in gentle anticipation, and then stepped back into the room, swinging the door carefully behind her so that it clicked with as little noise as possible. Then she turned, took in a breath, and looked at her target there on the table, a rich, heavy, freshly baked cake and coated in what looked to be homemade buttercream icing - she could see some of the chunks - all for her. And it had been left here for her to find and enjoy.
So that was exactly what she planned to do. The chimera drew her hands along herself as she approached, flipping the hem of her shirt up from the waist of her pants, undoing first the button and then the zipper of her fly, stripping down piece by piece until she stood before the table completely, totally naked, the cool air of the conditioned space tickling across her fur. She glanced up at the video camera in the corner, little red light blinking: she doubted it actually worked, but even if it did, she didn't mind putting on a show for whoever sat on the other side.
Of course the first thing she did was taste it. Terra sat at the edge of the table, tilting the surface just slightly, and ran a fingerpad through the frosting. It spread easily, thick and buttery, wet and sticky: it clung to her forked tongue, smeared out, left a tingle of buttery richness where it had been. She nodded, finger still held between her lips, and turned the cake on its decorative stand: the frosting had been carefully laid across the top and sides to completely cloak it in yellowish sugar. She reached down towards the side facing her, pressed a thumb into it, dug in until she felt the actual cake underneath, and then scooped that section free, showing luscious chocolate underneath.
Perfect. The chimera sat back on the table a little further, deliberately spreading her legs towards the doorway: she shifted, lifted up, rested forward so that her hefty sack hung down across the side, plump sheath resting against her belly. Sometimes she just needed to let them breathe after all, and besides - this cake was hers, to do with whatever she pleased.
So she leaned further back, propped herself up on one elbow, and pressed the frosting-coated pad of that thumb right down against the lip of her sheath. There was the slight resistance of the not-quite-elastic ring of skin right at the tip there, the little tug and pull of supple flesh, and then the so-familiar sensation of the pouch stretching open around the intrusion, warm interior wetness slurping around her thumb as she pressed it in, sugary frosting squishing out, smearing around, liquefying in the heat.
The chimera lifted up a little bit as she thumbed her sheath with the stuff, deliberately working her thumb around the buried rounded tip of her shaft, smearing and smushing the small butter chunks and crystals of sugar along herself and into the wrinkles and crevices of moist inner meat. When she finally drew her thumb free it was almost completely clean, and when she looked down she saw the yellowish frosting looking quite inviting there caught along the now protruding rim of her cock, the equine flare not quite developed, with bits and chunks and cream clinging to the front, the underside, pouching out where her sheath wrapped around the rest of her.
Too bad she didn't have an audience today. Terra slipped down off the table, smiling inwardly at the sag and swing of her balls between her thighs - as well as at the toothpaste-tube sensation of the weight pulling at her sheath, and squeezing out some of the frosting from underneath her cock nestled there. She turned the cake towards the edge of the table, pressed that same thumb into the section she had carved out, and this time dug into the cake itself, hollowing out a space in between the layers. Moist crumbs fell free and clung to her thumb; she shifted up to the edge of the table, stood up on her hooves a bit, grinded her balls across the surface just for good measure, then with that cake-smeared thumb tilted the blunted head of her shaft forward and down.
Recently fresh from the oven, it felt; as she pressed forward Terra shivered, the warm moisture of the interior settling into place around her, untouched frosting squishing against the lip of her sheath and holding it back. The weight of the dessert kept the rest of it reasonably together as she pushed deeper into it, shearing fissures and cracks through the spongy material, gritty crumbs and softer bits of chocolate and butter and cream smearing off along her shaft as it grew inside.
Sure, it was by no means the best fuck she had had, but that still didn't stop her. As she settled into a rhythm there inside the cake, hips pushing forward, frosting smearing against her waist, she moved her hands to the display on which the dessert sat, the thing thankfully held in place by its own weight and the relative stickiness of the sugar underneath. It shifted and pulsed with her rhythm, bulging out in the middle on top each time she pushed forward; splits cut through the frosting on the sides and over the top, and as Terra felt herself push closer and closer she shifted her hands from the base to the table itself, balls swinging forward against the plate, blunted head pushing out against the opposite side of the cake, nudging at the frosting from underneath - and then finally breaking through.
Thick, creamy sugar and dripping butter and oil smeared her equine length from head to base where the folds of her leathery sheath caught and held the ingredients. She swallowed, pulled back out of the cake, felt the slurping suction of the already wet interior moistened further from her musk and natural slickness, then squeezed a hand around herself, stroked fast and hard - and then jerked against the table, unloading one, two, three thick spurts of white out past the cake, then two more on top of it, and another dribbling down across the edge.
Panting, satisfied, the chimera let her hefty shaft rest across the dented, broken dessert, weighing the center down into a shallow crevice; the remaining dribbles and oozes of her load pooled down underneath her, body heat continuing to liquefy the sugar. She breathed out a sigh as she looked down at her bit of extra frosting, then at the crumbs and butter caught within the folds of her sheath; I wonder, she thought, if I leave it there, if I'll be able to bake a cupcake...
Behind her the latch to the door clicked, and she heard the distinct sound of everyone else launching into the first verse of Happy Birthday.