A helping hand, or two

Slowly, you slide your fingers up Grunt's rigid pole, finding them unable to meet around it's beastly girth. Then, just when your hand meets the tip of the alien's appendage, you reverse the act, bringing your warm digits back down teasingly slow. Grunt shudders from your efforts, allowing you to pump the massive slab a few more times, before finally voicing his opinion.

"M-more.."

You don't even hesitate, already your free hand joins it's twin, twisting them both around the massive thing as you stroke. You aren't even aware of the smirk tilting the corners of your lips, or the dew beginning to bead beneath your armor, which is suddenly feeling all too bulky. But unfortunately, you have your hands full at the moment, and you doubt Grunt would take kindly to a sudden stop. Sure, you're his commanding officer, but he just happens to be a walking tank with scales. Pissing him off wouldn't do you any favors.

The pace quickens, your hands rising and falling faster as you work Grunt's monumental member. Slowly, his quad begins to tighten, those fat, hairless orbs hanging just within your reach. In an instant, your lips latch around the nearest nut, slurping greedily upon the bloated thing, and causing Grunt to give a truly alien growl. You try in vain to fit another in your mouth, but his is the perfect Krogan specimen, just one of his tensing testes is more than a mouthful for you.

Grunt's hips begin to buck instinctively, and his growls grow more primal and savage. You know what's coming even before you feel the ball in your mouth swell even bigger. Frantically, you pump the reptile's rod, as it throbs furiously in your grasp. With a sickening pop, you tear your lips away from his quad, bringing your face just inches away from Grunt's flared tip.

"That's right, you big ugly son of a bitch, let me have it!"

That sudden burst of profanity was not lost upon the Krogan, who proceeds to let loose a burst of his own. With a triumphant roar, Grunt unleashes a torrent of thick, alien seed, the foreign spunk blasting free with all the intensity of an ancient Earth firehose. The geyser lasts for minutes, smothering your proud features with a thick coating of Krogan cum. The strange smelling substance begins dripping down onto your armor, which isn't going to be easy to clean.

Finally, the flood dies down, ending with one last stubborn spurt which splatters against your already sticky face. Wiping the layer of goo away from your eyes, you look up at the supposedly sated Krogan to gauge his response. An enormous sigh leaves the reptile's maw, at least he enjoyed himself.

"That, feels much better, Doe."