Ork

"Ah Orcs, or Orks as they call themselves. They're a savage race, but quite... dirty, if you catch my drift, hee-hee-hee!" The way he said that word makes your skin crawl. And he still won't take his hand off your leg. "Lets watch shall we?"

He tosses an Ork tusk into the pot, causing a plume of smoke to rise forcefully up into the air. It clears away a moment later however, and the pots surface becomes a window to somewhere else, with moving images on the other side...

A big ork sits on his chair, leaning to the side, watching his orkish servant sweep his hut. He grunted in boredom, and then sighed. He sniffed his armpit. Nothing but the sound of the crackling torches and the sweeping of the broom. It got on his nerves. His name is Mork, and he is the chief of his tribe (his mother was very proud for coming up with that name). Mork is a large ork, 'biggerer' and 'strongerer' than the rest, at about six and a half feet tall if he wasn't slouching. His skin is green; the sort of green that you'd find under a seat on a grubby bus. Leather armour protect his pecs, although they're hardly noticeable. He has kind of let himself go recently; a diet of fatty meat and no raids does that to an ork. His face is knobbly and scarred, wrinkled but somehow still smooth. It glistens with the usual unwashed ork sweat. Two tusks the length of knives poke from underneath his thick lip. He's almost bald, with just a top knot tied on the top of his head. He sighs again.

"ZULGAAAA!" he suddenly cries.

A rough female voice comes from the next room over. "WHAT?"

"ME BOOOREEED!"

A tall ork woman enters the main chamber. She's quite beautiful, in that savage amazon kind of way. Muscled and skimpy, green like the freshest of mold, covered with just enough fur to keep warm but not enough to hide everything. An old red scar runs down her face, through one of her eyes, though the eye still works fine. She has a tall and wild brunette mohawk, with the rest of her head shaved to a very short stubble. Silvery earrings hang from her ears. Mork stands up and embraces his mate, and they rub their noses and tusks together.

"Aw, big chief snookums bored? How aboot me get the spankin' stick, an' we bop some gobbos?"

"Aw hunny bunny, yous always knows what to say."

"Uh, should me, uh, leave boss?" his orkish servant said sheepishly, not wanting to get in their way and seeing something he doesn't want to see.

"WHO SAY YOU CAN SPEAK PISSANT?!"

Mork swivels around and decks the ork in the face, instantly knocking him out cold. He turns back to his mate with a loving look on his face.

"Aw puddin, me love you."

"Awww... ma' lil' plum-axe."

"Ya' ma' snoobyly-woobly-killin'-knife."

"Ma' precious-"

Suddenly an ork enters the hut. "Uh, boss, fight at pub again."

"DON'T RUIN DA' MOOD!" Zulga charges the ork and piledrives him, burrying his head in the dirt. She rubs her hands, and quickly goes back into her mate's arms. "Seems boyz misbehavin' again. Hows aboot' me give you a lil' quickie before snuggums go."

Her hand sneaks under Mork's loincloth. They kiss. It's difficult with the tusks in the way, so they have to sort of extend their lips like a suction cup. Zulga moans as her mate's tongue dances with hers. It tastes like raw meat. Raw meat is her favourite. "Need 'member to get more meat for Zulga," Mork thought to himself. Then his mind went simple as he began to think with his cock. She squeezes his warted cock, stroking up and down the stiff shaft. She tugs his balls before slowly going down and getting on her knees. She lifts the loincloth up and over her head, and presses her luscious lips against the foreskinned tip. She ate an inch, and then quickly another. It's just thin enough to pass through her two tusks. She loves the way it feels, squeezing into a hole just barely big enough, and the way it feels against the sides of her tusks. She loves how it tastes as well; manly, like an ork. She sometimes wishes he washed it more often, but when she's in a real rut she realises and really appreciates the dirty, raw ork flavour. Mork grunts and bucks his hips into her mouth. She did say it'd be a quickie. She spits it out just in time for the fireworks show. Copious amounts of cum splatter against her face, dripping down in long white streaks, pooling in the crevice between her breasts.

"Ah biggerest load yet!" She purrs like a kitten, licking the spoodge off her lip. "I thinks me go to spring to wash."

Mork snorts and huffs, still recuperating from the experience. "Dumplin' give best head," he shifts the loincloth over his dong, "bah, but me should go to fight at pub now. Stop before them boyz wreck whole place again." They hug one last time.

"Sees you laterz in bed ma' love."

"Yous too wuggums." They continue to send kisses through the air as they go their own way.