With that in mind, I dial back my ministrations slightly, pinching with a delicate feather touch of two beads of cocoa, on either side of her pretty little hood. I call more of myself forward, tickling up and down the lips of her labia with great attention. I map each curve and bump in her skin brazenly, giving her a gentle massage with different sized drops of me as I do.
I remember in great detail how wonderful it felt when she put me fully into her body on those delicate fingers of hers for the first time, when she sunk me deep inside her cave of secrets as my world melded to her very essence. I long to emulate that again, to taste her and to drink her in.
Creating a long, flexible dart, I sink inside of her suddenly until I reach the barrier of her cervix. At that point, I trace around the edges of it, pulsating lightly, and then run back down gently until I find the more pleasurable spots with texture along her inner walls.
There are so many places for me to hide here, so many places I can tickle and please, so many secrets to vibrate on and pulse against. Each place I find to play tricks on makes her legs shake harder, until the pieces of me that are up on her breasts still, now fully encasing them, can detect that her hands are trying to stimulate herself.
She's now begging me to let her come, but I feel like I can put it off just a little bit longer.
I slide back to her pretty pink nubbin, jumping my beady little self against it repeatedly until she starts to quiver, and then I stop all sensations at once across her entire body, leaving her achy and sobbing at the loss of me.
As difficult as it is to hold off her orgasm, it’s even more so to hold off my own as I am the one experiencing such an intimate view of her. I'm quite literally inside her body, quite literally one with her as I swim through her copious fragrant juices.
I hear someone out there start to applaud, and I wait for the perfect moment to give Devon what she really needs, what we both really need. What the restless crowd yearns for.
Before I give her the big finale, I jump up into the air and splat myself on her face, frothing all over it until I'm very at the edge of combustion. I slide down her throat and cut off her airway briefly until she's panting even harder, and then I slip myself back inside the heat of her, looking for every nerve ending I can bubble against.
When it's time for the big finale at long last, I use everything in my toolkit to bring her to completion. I attack every single sensitive area that gave me the most authentic reaction, and I play her like a magical fiddle from a fairytale. I don't hold back this time; there's no way to.
I rub against her and I rub against her and I pull and I tweak and I bounce and I get so frothy that an explosion of chocolate erupts against her as she screams out to the night, nearly shredding her vocal cords as she convulses from head to toe.
This is why we send the children away. We would not want them to think that meetings are painful.
Well that, and the fact that a town sponsored orgy hardly feels like a place for little ones to be.
When I’m out of energy at long last, I wait for my wife to completely fall boneless against that stage, using every last bit of me I can to prolong her orgasm to the best of my ability. When I sense her mind quiet through the bond, I know I've accomplished my mission. I've exhausted her with my ministrations, fully relaxed her and sent all the endorphins firing and had her crashing through an orgasm so intense that she's having to physically tell herself to breathe air.
Recharged from our union,revitalizedfrom dancing through her body as I rode down her throat and up her glorious channel at the same time, I pull myself back together onto two feet, solidifying so that I might get her home safely.
I accept congratulations from the few townspeople that offer it, draping my wife's jacket over her as I get us to our house. I could just teleport us there in our cocoa forms as I did when we moved in, but another part of this ceremony is that I must walk. I must use all the strength in my physical form to take care of my wife until we are behind closed doors once more. I need to be worthy of her, need to prove that I can be her protector no matter what. Even in my weakened state I need to be able to do whatever is required of me.
In years past when our town was first established, there was a gauntlet set up for newly mated shifters to pass through after this ceremony took place. Over time, it's become less physical and more symbolistic. It's almost a choreographed dance as a group of werewolves launch at us, lips pulled back and baring their sharp teeth as they growl menacingly at me. Devon clings to my neck in her weakened state, trying to get me to put her down, but I must keep her tucked tightly against my body. Ispin out of the way, dancing on tip toes through the forest like a gossamer-winged fairy.
Next comes a couple of town vampires, hanging upside down from low hanging tree branches to try and steal my prize from me. I fling words of affirmation at them, making them recoil in fright.
I must face three separate trials, and the final one comes in the form of a sweet bunny shifter. They look so innocent, shaking against the trunk of a tree as if scared or cold. My first instinct is to approach them to care for them, but bunnies are actually terrifying if you think about it. Their cuteness is never used for anything good. And that fluffy tail? One of their deadliest weapons.
They come at me tail first, hopping backwards as if they intend to run me right through with it. I wish I could shift at this point to avoid the pain of what’s coming, but even through the terror of that tiny powerhouse of a body threatening to rip me wide open, I manage to get my wife to safety as I do the last thing that bunny will expect; I hop.
Not only do I hop, I hop better than he ever will, because my legs are longer. Pardon me for saying so, but fuck that bunny.
He's so jealous of my giant hop that he runs off crying, and I almost feel bad for him, but then Devon makes a noise of utter devastation, and I know that my time is up. I must sprint her home before anything else decides to take advantage of our distracted minds.
It's not until we're behind a closed and locked door that I feel as if I can properly breathe again. I set Devon back on her feet, steadying her before letting go.
“You did wonderfully, my love. You made me so proud to be your mate. Thank you for letting me play with you so thoroughly.”
She looks up at me shyly, a pretty pink blush dancing upon her cheeks. “I really liked it. I feel as if we should do it again sometime, only this time within the comfort of our own home and without any clothing on me. I'm starting to see a lot more benefits of being married to a cup of hot chocolate. You're far more flexible than I ever imagined. And all the ways you got inside of me? I feel bad for anybody that must adhere to such strict rules regarding their forms. I love how fluid you become, how you’re able to cascade through my body. You truly are my one true match, Chip. My fated beverage for now and always.”
Chapter 7
Devon
I wake as if from a dream, hazy memories of being incredibly brazen on stage in front of the entire town, thankfully minus my mother, haunting me. I tell myself to only think about how it felt in the moment— this is part of their culture, I keep reminding myself, something very normal to the shifting community. Not something to be ashamed of.
Well. That’s fine. I might still be slightly ashamed in my own head. I mean, who does that? Lets their own mate just absolutely obliterate them like that in front of an audience?
Damnit. Now I’m getting myself worked up.
