Stickyness

Unsurprisingly, the majority of the inhabitants of the clintele in the tavern had spent the last half-an-hour or so awaiting further developments in the course of Zalah and Dareios’ getting to know each other. Most were fairly disappointed when the pair of lovers had peeled off into the private room which adjoined the main hall of the inn, but most the occupants had decided to keep a weather eye on the double-doors to see how things were progressing. The signs were, given that the last fifteen minutes or so had been taken up with the filth Zalah had been alternately speaking and screaming at he top of her voice, that the two were getting on well.

With this in mind, when the door to the room finally swung open the movement itself was enough to bring the busy tavern to complete hush, with everyone stopping their conversations at whatever point they were at to get a look at what was going on.

Dareios appeared first, flinging the doors wide so that they clattered against the walls, and let the light from the tavern stream into the chamber. He was greeted by a roar of applause, cheering and whistling. Most of the whistling and catcalls came from female denizens of the tavern that were most delighted to see the naked warrior appear, his huge, hard muscles glistening with sweat, his whole body dappled in beads of perspiration, his muscles pumped and ripped from the workout he had been receiving. Dareios grinned and bowed, and then turned around and looked at Zalah.

The warrioress was kneeling on the low table in the centre of the room, facing the hall. What had happened was quite extraordinary. The image of the boobed slut most reminded Dareios, rather strangely, of a spider, an enormous, bloated spider, sitting it the middle of a web. The reason for this was that the load of semen that he had just spewed from his dick had splattered every part of the room. It was hanging from the ceiling in about two dozen fat ropes that swayed downwards like jungle creepers, and it was plastered each of the walls. All in all there were about a hundred arm-length ropes of cum hanging in lazy, pendulous arcs like party streamers, and most of them were attached to Zalah in some way. Each cum strand was stuck to a particular part of the blonde vixen, so that the heavy ropes that hung from the ceiling, each of which was swaying slowly like corn in a light wind, were stuck to Zalah’s mane of blonde hair, or her shoulders, arms or hands. Here and there one of the thick lines of dangling cum snapped, dripped off the ceiling and splattered onto the table loudly. Moreover, the tendrils of cum that were clinging to the walls also hung from Zalah’s tits, her belly, her back and her ass, and the semen was so thick and viscous in consistency that each strand was glued sturdily to the megaboobed slut. So all in all it looked like Zalah was a huge spider sitting in a man-sized web, or some incredible sex-goddess from which strands of sperm were emanating.

Additionally, Dareios had managed a number of direct hits on Zalah herself, and her tits and belly were absolutely plastered in his seed. It made if difficult to see what expression was on Zalah’s face, because she was blinking her eyes to try and clear them from semen, and her mouth was too busy spewing monstrous amounts of cum over her lower lip, with the result that a creamy waterfall of goo was rolling out of her mouth and dripping off her chin, splattering her heaving breasts. Zalah didn’t need to smile to show how wanton she was, she just needed to slowly pant and smoulder.

When the occupants of the tavern saw Zalah’s state, the cheering immediately stopped and was replaced by an astonished silence. Several drinks were dropped and smashed on the floor, and for a few seconds there was a chorus of shattering glass.

‘Could I trouble someone for a lantern?’ said Dareios.