Arc 2.7: The Viking Cowgirl

The first thing Kyle registered was the familiar wet heat. Claire's mouth had become his alarm clock, as reliable as sunrise, her tongue working his morning wood with practiced precision.

Slurp - Slurp... Gluck.

The sounds filled the dim room, wet and rhythmic, punctuated by the occasional pop as she pulled off to catch her breath before diving back down. Her tongue traced that sensitive vein on the underside of his cock, flattening against it in long, slow strokes that made his toes curl.

He cracked one eye open, watching the familiar chestnut hair bob between his legs. The room was dim as he liked it, the cheap blinds doing nothing to keep out the gray morning light, and the alarm clock on his nightstand was just about to go off.

"Morning to you too," Kyle groaned, his voice rough with sleep. He let his head fall back against the pillow, enjoying the building orgasm, the way her throat opened to take him deeper with each bob of her head.

Gluck-gluck-gluck.

He could feel his climax approaching, the tension coiling in his gut. He tapped Claire's cheek gently, letting her know to get ready.

She pulled off just enough to look up at him, her lips glistening and swollen, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to his cockhead. Then she dove back down, taking him deep into her throat as he came.

He pumped his release into her mouth, hot and thick, and she swallowed urgently, her throat working around him. When he was done, she pulled off with a wet pop. She used her fingers to scoop up a few loose strands of cum from her chin, pushing them back into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

"You have a lecture in an hour," she said, her voice matter-of-fact. "Professor Johansson's class. You said you two needed to talk about something."

Kyle blinked. Right. The married Viking MILF. Tall, Swedish, white-skinned, heavily pregnant with giant veined tits that defied gravity. He'd been planning to visit her office today, to discuss... well, to discuss their whatever it was. And maybe to exercise a little.

"Thanks," he said, sitting up. "You're the best alarm clock a guy could ask for."

Claire smirked, opening her mouth with her tongue out, showing him she'd swallowed every last drop. "I know. Now get dressed. I have my own classes to get to."

She slipped out of the room, leaving Kyle alone with his thoughts. He pulled on his clothes, drank a coffee, grabbed his backpack, and headed across campus.

________________________________________

The walk to Ulma's office was familiar now. He'd made it enough times that he could navigate the winding corridors of the political science building with his eyes closed.

He knocked on her office door, and without waiting for her cold and professional "come in," pushed it open.

Ulma was at her desk, her laptop open in front of her, a stack of papers to her left. She looked up, and her expression shifted through tired, to a flicker of excitement, and then back to her professional "I am the teacher" mask.

"Mr. Evans," she said coolly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted to talk," Kyle said, closing the door behind him. "About the claim. About... us."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it? 'Us'?"

"I don't know what to call it," Kyle admitted. "But I know I can't stop thinking about you."

Ulma's expression softened, just a fraction. "That's sweet, in a deeply inappropriate way." She stood, moving around her desk. "But if you want to f—exercise your claim, we can't keep doing this in the office. Especially not in the mornings."

"So, after class then? Or I can come to your place," Kyle said. "Eric said I was welcome."

"My husband said you were welcome because he is an extremely nice man," Ulma corrected, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "You would be wise not to overextend the hospitality of strangers."

"Oh, come on, Professor Johansson!" Kyle grinned. "We're almost friends at this point! He literally gave me tips on how to make you—"

"Mr. Evans." Her voice cut through his enthusiasm like a blade. "This is highly inappropriate. You are my student. I am your professor. Discussing my husband's... advice... about my body is not acceptable."

Kyle held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it. Using your pussy is off the table." He said the last statement more like a question.

"Off the table!" Professor Johansson crashed those dreams.

"What about using your tits some?" Kyle came up with another brilliant idea. "Can I at least play with your tits before class? I'll keep an eye on the door, and I promise not to put my hands in your bra."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"You're impossible," she said.

But she was already letting her cardigan slide off her shoulders, leaving her in a white professional blouse that was thin enough to show the outline of her heavy, veined breasts beneath. The fabric strained across her chest.

"You have fifteen minutes," she said, her voice cool. "And if anyone knocks, you stop immediately."

"Deal."

Kyle moved around her desk, his hands finding her shoulders, gently guiding her to sit back in her chair. He stood behind her, his fingers working through the fabric of her shirt and bra.

Through the thin material, he could feel the incredible weight and warmth of her breasts, the softness of her skin beneath the cotton, the stiff peaks of her nipples pressing against his palms. They were impossibly full, heavy, and he could feel the faint pulse of blood beneath the surface.

"Fuck," he breathed. "They're so big."

"They're full of milk," she said, her voice flat. "That's what happens when you're pregnant."

"I know. It's amazing."

Ulma leaned her head back against the chair rest, slightly parting her mouth. Kyle leaned in for a kiss, which she first resisted, her lips pressing together in a thin line. But then she softened, opening her mouth to him, her tongue meeting his in a slow, exploratory dance.

He worked her breasts with his hands, alternating between them, while his mouth was on hers. He felt like he was somehow winning the kiss, taking control, and she was yielding to him. Emboldened, his hand slid down, over her rounded belly, finding the waistband of her skirt.

"No-o," she moaned right into his kiss. Kyle did not expect her sound so weak. "Not here. Not now."

"I'm not going to fuck you," he said, pulling back. "I just want to touch you. Please."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But keep an eye on the door."

He slid his hand beneath her skirt, finding the wet heat between her legs. She was already soaked, her panties damp with arousal. He pressed his fingers against her, rubbing slow circles that made her gasp.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "You like having a student's hand in your pants."

"Shut up," she breathed, but her hips were rocking against his hand. "Just... just keep kissing me."

He did, working her with his fingers while his mouth returned to her lips. She pressed her lips into his to suppress a sharp cry as she came, her body shuddering against his hand, her fingers digging into his scalp.

When she was done, she slumped back in her chair, panting. Kyle pulled his hand from her skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips.

"You taste amazing," he said.

She swatted his hand away, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I would be so fired for this."

"Don't worry, Prof! I'll tell nobody..." Kyle grinned. "Well, maybe to your husband!"

________________________________________

Johansson's house was warm and inviting as ever, the smell of something cooking wafting from the kitchen. Olaf was in his high chair, watching his dad cook something on the stove.

"Kyle!" Eric called out, his voice cheerful. "Good to see you again. Ulma said you might be stopping by."

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Kyle said.

"Not at all. Olaf and I were just having lunch. You two go ahead—I'll keep an eye on the little man."

Ulma led Kyle into her office, a cozy room with a large oak desk and shelves lined with books. She closed the door behind them, and the moment it clicked shut, the professional mask fell away.

"Fast," she said, her voice dropping. "We don't have much time. Eric promised to keep Olaf occupied for an hour, but that's all we get."

Kyle nodded, already unbuckling his belt. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me," she said, hiking up her skirt. "On the desk. Like you did last time."

She bent over the desk, on her elbows flat on the polished wood, and Kyle moved behind her. He pushed her panties aside, his cock already hard and ready, and slid into her wet heat.

Slap-slap-slap.

The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic percussion that seemed to echo off the bookshelves. Ulma's moans were muffled, gritting her teeth to not disturb her son, but Kyle could feel her pushing back against him, meeting each thrust with her own.

"Harder," she gasped. "Fuck me harder."

He did, setting a brutal pace that had her crying out with each impact. Slap-slap-slap. The desk rattled beneath them, papers sliding off the edge and fluttering to the floor.

"You know, I just thought of something," Kyle grunted.

"Oh fuck, what is it?" she gasped, clearly too aroused to think 2 steps ahead. "And don't you dare stop."

He didn't. But he continued, "Well, I fucked your ass last time, so if you want it like last time…" His fingers reached her asshole, beginning to circle there.

"No, stop, keep away from my asshole!" she snapped, making Kyle back off.

But he kept fucking her pussy, and slapped her ass cheek, making her body clench around him. And soon enough she moaned into her own hand, and then he followed, pumping his release into her.

After a second of rest, and a bit of perverse pleasure of watching his cock sliding out of her freshly fucked pussy, Kyle bent down to kiss her neck and back. "Promise you will consider this? Besides, that's how you and Eric can enjoy each other without driving for half an hour."

She simply gestured for him to help her onto a chair. Kyle took her hand and helped her sit down, and started a shoulder massage, slowly going down. Ulma seemed to enjoy a bit of relaxation, after she just came of her student’s cock.

"So… I should go?" Kyle still had his hands on her breasts, unsure if they would have another go.

"Probably," she agreed, clearly not impressed with his suggestion. As Kyle dressed looking like a shot bunny, she rolled her eyes. "But Eric made enough food for an army. You could stay for dinner. If you want."

Kyle smiled. "I'd like that."

________________________________________

Olaf was sent to bed after dinner, and Kyle was starting to feel like he'd died and gone to heaven. Ulma was on her knees in front of the desk, her mouth working his cock with a skill that seemed to improve with every session.

Gluck-gluck-gluck.

The sound was loud in the quiet office, a wet, rhythmic sucking that was somehow both obscene and hypnotic. Kyle leaned back in the office chair, his eyes half-closed, enjoying the sensation.

Slurp--Gluck... Pop.

She pulled off to catch her breath, her hand still working his shaft. "You taste so good," she said, her voice husky. "So sweet, so young."

"I had a protein bar for breakfast," Kyle admitted.

She looked at him with a confused, wondering expression. "How have you managed to get into college?"

Before he could answer, she dove back down, taking him deep into her throat.

Kyle's head fell back. "Fuck, your throat is so good."

"I think you forget," she said, pulling off just long enough to work him with her hand, "this is YOUR throat!"

She opened her mouth and took him even deeper, holding her lips at the base of his cock as her throat worked magic on the head lodged deep in her esophagus. Kyle could feel his climax building, the tension coiling—

The door opened.

Kyle's eyes snapped open, a bolt of panic shooting through him. Olaf, he thought, his mind racing. Oh god, it's Olaf, he's going to see his mom on her knees—

But it wasn't Olaf. It was Eric.

"Afternoon," Eric said cheerfully, carrying a tray with three mugs of tea. "Thought you might want something to drink."

Kyle stared at him, trying to hold his legs steady as the nerve-wracking throat-job continued. "You... you brought tea?"

"Of course. It's cold outside. Figured you could use something to warm up—well, inside as well as outside." Eric set the tray down on the edge of the desk, completely unbothered by the sight of his wife on her knees, seemingly trying to choke herself on Kyle’s cock.

Ulma hadn't stopped. She was still working her throat around his cock-head, her hands now playing with Kyle's balls. If anything, she seemed to be going faster, as if Eric's presence had spurred her on.

"Aren't you... I mean, isn't this..." Kyle gestured vaguely at the scene in front of him. "Doesn't this bother you?"

Eric shrugged, picking up one of the mugs. "It used to. The first few times. But then I realized—she's enjoying herself. And you're not hurting her. So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that she's your wife," Kyle said, his voice strangled. "And she's blowing me. Like, hard. Fuck, this is the best throat-job I've ever had." Kyle silently apologized to Claire for the thought, but damn, the Viking MILF had moves.

"That's not a problem," Eric said, taking a sip. "That's just... adapting to new circumstances."

Gluck-gluck-gluck. Ulma's head finally began to move as well, bobbing up and down now, her hand still working his balls. Kyle could feel his climax building, but he was too distracted by Eric's casual acceptance to fully enjoy it.

"Are you jealous?" Kyle asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Eric considered this. "A little," he admitted. "I won't lie. Seeing my wife with another man—it's not easy. But she's happy. And that matters more than my pride."

Ulma pulled off with a wet pop, looking up at her husband. "That's sweet, Eric." Kyle would have considered it too cute if not for her hands—one working his shaft, the other massaging his balls.

"I just love you." Eric smiled at her, genuine affection in his eyes. "But I am a little jealous. I won't pretend otherwise."

"Fuck, you can get some action as well," Kyle said, the words coming out before he could think about them. "Ulma can give you a hand job while she bounces on my cock. We can have a little threesome!"

Once Kyle said that, he expected the magic to stop. Instead, Eric's eyes lit up.

"Really? You'd be okay with that?"

"Sure," Kyle said, his brain still catching up with his mouth. "I mean, fair's fair, right?"

Eric looked at Ulma. "What do you think, love?"

Ulma considered it for a moment. "Fine," she said.

"Agreed," Eric said, already unbuckling his belt.

________________________________________

"—and then Eric helped me move the chair cause—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Mark held up a hand, his expression a mix of disbelief and fascination. "Back up. Are you telling me you had a threesome with your professor and her husband?"

Kyle grinned, leaning back on the couch. "Technically, it was more of a two-and-a-half-some. Eric didn't actually participate in the main event. He just... got a hand job."

Claire pulled off with a wet pop, her eyes wide. "Wait, what?" she asked, her voice husky. "You had a threesome with Professor Johansson and her husband?"

"Dude," Mark said, shaking his head. "That's insane."

"I know, right?"

Mark gestured to Claire, who was still staring at Kyle with a mix of shock and curiosity. Her mouth still connected to his cock with a string of saliva and precum "Keep going, I'm gonna ask all the questions."

“Get all the tea, hun!” Claire nodded and went back down, taking Kyle deep to the base. Her throat opened around him, her tongue licking his balls as she swallowed him whole.

"What was it like?" Mark asked. "Having a dude there?"

Kyle's eyes glazed over as Claire's head bobbed. "Weird, mostly. But also kind of... I don't know. Cool? He brought us tea."

"He brought you tea," Mark repeated, his voice flat. "While you were fucking his wife."

"While she was blowing me, actually. And then he watched. And then Ulma said she'd give him a hand job if I was cool with it."

"You said sure," Mark repeated, shaking his head. "You said sure to our cold ice queen’s husband getting a hand job while she was bouncing on your like a cowgirl?"

"Reverse cowgirl," Kyle corrected. "It was reverse cowgirl. And yeah, I said sure. It seemed like the right thing to do."

Claire seemed to agree with him as her tongue traced that sensitive vein on the underside of his cock, and Kyle had to pause to catch his breath.

"So wait," Mark said, leaning forward. "How did you manage it? Isn’t her whole body claimed? How could she use her hands to jerk him off?"

Kyle nodded, his eyes glazing over as Claire took him deep into her throat. "That's the thing. I claimed her whole body in the room... So…"

"Sooo?" Mark continued. "How did she gave him a hand job?"

Claire pulled off with a wet pop, catching her breath. "Hun," she said, her full of smug and amusement. "Stop being so dense!” She leaned back to give Kyle cock a smooch, before turning back to her fiancé, “The Viking husband had to stand in the hallway to get his cock jerked! All while his wife was riding our boy Kyle like a crazy cowgirl!”

"It was reverse cowgirl," Kyle corrected. "And they don't have a hallway. It's just a large living room area. As I said, he had to help to move the chair to the door."

Claire stared at him, her eyes wide. "He moved a chair. For his wife. So she could jerk him off while riding you."

"Yep, that is the correct order of events," Kyle said, grinning.

Gluck—gluck—gluck. Claire’s bobbing now went slower, as if she was considering something. Mark leaned forward, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him.

"Did he come?" Mark asked.

"Yeah," Kyle said, his voice strained. "He came on her hand. And she was about to lick it off, but then she realized—"

"She couldn't," Claire interrupted, pulling off for a moment. "Because you claimed her mouth."

"Exactly." Kyle nodded, impressed by her quick thinking, and slightly annoyed with her constant distractions. "So she couldn't lick his cum off her hand. It was technically mine."

"That's disgusting," Mark said, but he was grinning.

"Nah, that was kinda hot." Kyle shrugged. "Anyway, after that, I asked Eric if he wanted to get jerked again. And he said sure."

"Wait, again?" Mark's eyes went wide. "You let him go twice?"

"Hey, I was in my happy mood," Kyle said, as if that explained everything. "And Ulma was bouncing on me the whole time. Though she was getting tired, so I had to do a lot of the lifting."

Claire's eyes went even wider, and she was about to pop another question, but Kyle managed to get his hand on her head, thankfully shutting her down the best possible way.

Gurlg-ghak-gh.

Claire got his drift and got back at work, her head bobbing faster than ever. Kyle could feel his climax approaching, the tension coiling in his gut.

“So," Kyle continued trying to speak faster, "after Eric came on her hand again, and I came in his wife, Ulma said, 'This is the strangest arrangement I've ever been in.' And I said, 'Yeah, but you're enjoying it, right?' And she said— FUCK!”

"Wow, she said that?" Mark asked half jokingly, while Kyle was holding Claire’s head to his crotch, slightly jerking back and forth getting the last drops of his cum in her throat.

"Sory, no. She said ‘yes’." Kyle grinned. "And then Eric asked if he could watch again next time."

"He asked to watch again," Mark repeated, shaking his head. "Dude, you've broken that man's brain."

"I don't think I broke it," Kyle said. "I think I just... expanded it."

Claire quickly managed with Kle’s load (as it was quite small compared to his usual amounts). When she pulled off, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking satisfied. "So," she said, her voice a little hoarse, "did Eric actually touch you? Like, physically?"

"No," Kyle said, laughing. "Nothing like that. It was just... weird. And also kind of hot."

"Hot," Mark repeated, shaking his head. "You're a strange man, Kyle."

"I'm just living my best life," Kyle said, grinning.

________________________________________

The documentary had ended, replaced by the credits rolling over footage of penguins huddling together against the Antarctic cold. Kyle, Mark, and Claire were still on the couch, the conversation finally winding down.

"That was wild," Mark said, his voice full of wonder. "I can't believe you actually had a threesome with your professor."

"It wasn't really a threesome," Kyle said. "More like a two-and-a-half-some."

"Whatever it was, it was insane."

Kyle nodded, his eyes drifting to the TV. The penguins were waddling across the screen, their movements comical and endearing. He was about to make a comment about them when he realized something.

Mark and Claire were making out. He couldn’t see that, as they only seemed to start eating each other faces when he was looking the other way, but still.

"Wait," Kyle said, sitting up. "How are you doing that?"

They broke apart, looking at him with identical expressions of confusion.

"Doing what?" Mark asked.

"Making out." Kyle gestured at them. "Her mouth is mine. In this room. I claimed it. So how are you kissing?"

Claire and Mark looked at each other, then back at Kyle. Their expressions shifted—a flicker of something that might have been guilt, or maybe embarrassment.

"We're not," Mark said, too quickly. "We're just... touching."

"You were definitely kissing," Kyle said. "I saw your tongue, Mark."

"We're not," Claire insisted, but her cheeks were flushed. "We were just..."

"It's complicated," Mark said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not like we're actually kissing. It's more like... face-touching."

"Face-touching," Kyle said, not believing it for a second.

"Look," Claire said, her voice sharp. "You claimed my mouth. Not my whole face. So..." She calmly explained it to him, while slowly caressing her fiancé's body. "Mark can lick it."

Kyle blinked. "What?"

"It's nice!" Claire explained. "While we're in this room, we have our special kind of kiss!"

"Honey, stop," Mark said, not seeming much excited.

"No, it's cute!" Claire insisted. "We're working together to maximize the experience!"

Kyle opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. He looked at Mark, who was trying to hide his smile. He looked at Claire, who was pouting at her fiancé.

"So, you lick my cum off your girlfriend's face," Kyle said slowly.

"Fuck you, man!" Mark's face was red, embarrassment clear in his voice. "It's not like that. We just... I mean, it's a loophole, okay? It's not like I'm into it."

Kyle laughed, pushing himself to his feet. "Dude, relax. I'm not judging."

He walked to the kitchen, grabbing three beers from the fridge. He returned to the living room, handing one to Mark and one to Claire before settling back on the couch.

"Look, bro," Kyle said, cracking open his beer. "You're my bro. You're my best friend. I'm not gonna judge you for licking cream off the cake."

Mark stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You're such an asshole."

"I know." Kyle clinked his beer against Mark's. "But you love me anyway."

"Against my better judgment."

Claire was laughing too, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and amusement. "I can't believe we are having this conversation."

The evening wound down, the beers disappearing one by one. Mark and Claire curled up on the couch together.

He watched them for a moment, a strange feeling settling in his chest. It wasn't jealousy—not exactly. Fuck, he thought, taking a long sip of his beer. I really need to get my life together.