Make for the fields!

Burning Fields

The shimmering light through the trees give you heart as you dash toward the opening. Sweat is beginning to drip from your form as you burst from the forest into the flat prairie. Tall grass flanks you on every side giving you many places to conceal yourself. You make it about 30 feet into the vegetation before you hear the crimson lizard burst through the shroud of trees. Hoping to avoid his gaze, you hit the deck just as he begins to scan the area for signs of his prey. You struggle to control your frantic breathing, hoping to calm your racing heart before you give away your position.

The last of the broken branches fall from the trees along your path, submerging the moonlit grassland back into silence. The quiet sound of wind through the blades of grass is the only break in the deafening noiselessness that surrounds you. As your pulse slows once more, you focus on every little sound around you. Crickets chirp into the night breeze, the strands of grass softly rustle against each other, and the trees beyond creek as they sway. No breathing, no footsteps... Nothing but the endless breeze playing with the grass, shimmering in the moonlight. While it would be easy enough to spot the fire-type's tail flame, you don't dare chance a look into the field.

A bloodthirsty roar pierces the night before lines of hungry crimson flare to life. Your heart sinks as the cunning lizard sets the field ablaze, hoping to smoke you out. As the seconds tick by and as the fumes grow thicker, the plan to hide out in a grassland from a fire-type has you cursing yourself for your arrogance. Soon, the need for clean air overwhelms your sense of caution and has you dashing out of the burning brush. Unfortunately, your **** run leads you straight into the chest of your prepared foe.

As your daze from contact subsides, you realize that the Charmeleon has you wrapped up in a tight bear hug against his chest. He squeezes you playfully, probably to mock your pitiful struggles in his far superior arms. Pinned by his mighty hold, your sweat drenched bodies stick together. The odor causes a small but very noticeable reaction deep within you, causing you to gasp after every other inhale. It doesn't help when the Charmeleon's cocky face changes to one of curiosity, and he looks down to inspect what was poking at his own sheath. The vile lizard looks back to your eyes with a wicked smile and cups the back of your head with one claw. He then pulls your face up against his bare chest, causing you to gag on his growing musk. He locks eyes with you as he begins to hump his growing arousal up the length of your hardening member.

He is soon rubbing your fully erect cock with his own steamy piece. Each dry hump against your poke hood elicits another moan or inaudible word. His purple gaze consumes you completely, not letting you look away or close your eyes. You know he has you and that thought is driven home every time his generous ball sack slaps against yours. He begins to grunt after each thrust and picks up the pace as he grinds his member against yours. Large amounts of his pre pour onto both your cock and his, allowing his endeavors to double. It is then that he releases your head and plants both his hands on your bum, pulling you tight against his quivering rod. Both your heads are thrown back by the **** of his final thrust and his explosive orgasm splatters against the combined wall of flesh. So forceful is his climax that you even see a few of his cum shots get through the press of your bodies only to rain back down onto your exposed faces.

A growl of satisfaction (thirty seconds later) indicates that his flood has ended and you are dropped onto your back, panting hard. You, unable to achieve your own climax, shake there on the ground. The feeling of being pent-up and the sheer exhaustion of the **** you've suffer have you reeling on the edge of consciousness. You barely even feel the maw of your captor sucking on your paws. Running his tongue all over your soles, he coats them with drool before gulping them into his throat. A cold breeze shocks you out of your daze as your calves enter his slimy gullet. Your meek attempt at resistance doubles as your legs enter his mouth. All thoughts of freedom are dashed, however, when he reaches your unsatisfied crotch. As your heart flutters, his slimy length teases your shaft with long and slow laps. He gets the whole of your pelvis in his mouth and clamps down, trapping you inside. There, your are assaulted with quick and rough tongue licks across your sack and anal hole. It's not long at all before your coat the inside of his muzzle with your thick seed. The orgasm is the last bit of stress you can take as your vision fades and your mind passes into unconsciousness.

The Charmeleon creases his lips into a smug smile as the Sneasel goes limp in his maw. He wastes no time in gulping down the chest, shoulders, and finally, head of his victim. With one last great gulp, he sends the smaller pokemon into his stomach to digest. With his tongue, he laps up the last of his meal's flavor and cum. He then rises and looks out onto the field of orange and yellow, nodding his approval. Murring in delight, the lizard leaves the blazing field to find a soft place to relax for the rest of the evening.