Private room

Zalah and Dareios made their way over the barroom with as much decorum as they could muster after the scandalous scene which they had just played out to the congregation in the bar. There had actually been a scattering of applause for their performance, although not from the unfortunate males who had been blown into a ball-churning premature ejaculation, most of whom were still crouched on the ground attempting to massage some sensitivity into their voided ball sacks, looking for replacement clothing to hide some of the more obvious stains around the trouser area or were simply blacked out on the floor. No applause came from the raven-haired dancer with the round boobs either, who appeared to be suffering from such complete shock at the impromptu facial that she had received, blown directly in her face from a dick a good ten feet away that she stood stock still at the bar, her jaw hanging open, her right hand clasped against her hip. Even while Zalah collected her drinks, the dazed brunette stood with a glazed expression on her cumglazed face, staring unfocusedly at the opposite wall of the bar as if scarcely able to compute what had happened to her. When Dareios and Zalah ambled past the woman she stayed like that and was only just beginning to blink, seemingly as much in astonishment as to clear her eyes of the agglomeration creamy cum that clogged against her thick eyelashes and dripped down her face off her chin.

‘Those are on the house!’ the barmaid, who had recovered her wits more rapidly than her friend, called out. ’Come and facial me anytime!’

‘Let’s go to a private room,’ Zalah suggested over her shoulder to Dareios, who was willing to follow the megaboobed slut anywhere just at that moment. An obliging path opened up in the admiring throng to let the two of them through, most being hyponotised by the salacious sway of Zalah’s perfect ass as they departed from the bar area and made their way to the other side of the room with their drinks and glasses.

Over on the other side of the tavern there was a double door atop a pair of steps with a large man in front of it.

‘Hello Vogel,’ said Zalah to the man with a brilliant smile, ‘is this room taken?’

The muscular man smiled in an accommodating way, ‘we freed it up the moment you arrived.’

With this, the man turned, swung open the double doors and stood aside so that Zalah and Dareios could enter the chamber. It was a cosy, wood-panelled chamber, not more than fifteen feet square, with a low table in the centre and wooden benches all around the other three walls with cushions on them. On the far side of the room a slow fire was buring in the grate, and there were a couple of lanterns in the room.

‘Thanks Vogel,’ said Zalah after she had settled her glasses on the table, ‘remind me that I owe you one.’

‘One day I’ll hold you to that,’ smiled Vogel.

‘But what would your wife say…?’ said Zalah naughtily, before blowing the bouncer a kiss, closing the double doors firmly and bolting them from the inside.

Dareios found himself staring across the table at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. The room was comfortable and enclosed, although they could hear the noisy hubbub of the tavern behind the doors.

‘Alone at last…’ Dareios said, taking a sip of his beer. Then he put the glass down on the table. Reaching down, he took his glistening, footlong pussy-rocket in his hand and raised it up above the level of the table. The meaty staff gleamed in the dim lamplight of the little room. Catching Zalah’s gaze, and without warning, he let the turgid meatstick fall from his grasp. Deadweight, the huge, vein corded fuck staff slammed onto the varnished tabletop and connected with a wet SPLAT and a heavy THUMP that rocked the table and shook the glasses.

Zalah smiled, narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Leaning forwards, she took one of the empty glasses and moved it nearer towards Dareios’ side of the table. Then, with the same hand, she gently seized the pulsing bell-end and heaved the snakelike organ upwards, positioning the purple crown so that it was at the lip of the deep glass.

‘Let’s mix a little cocktail here,’ said Zalah, watching as the warrior’s bellend commenced weeping liberal amounts of clear, sticky precum into the glass with a steady flow. ‘What’s your name, stud?’

‘Dareios.’

‘You live here?’

‘I’m new in town. I’ve just arrived.’

‘Ooh,’ said Zalah, ‘in that case you must let me give you a guided tour of all of my erogenous zones.’

Dareios looked at the huge-titted slut. The facial that he had given her was extremely decorous. Her perfect, deep and even bronze tan was speckled with pearly splattering of semen that bejewelled her face, her large eyes sparkling in the midst of the irregular patterning of semen that clung to it. There were thick splashes observable in her blonde tresses and a rope of semen swinging from her chin that was stubbornly attached, which danced when she spoke but somehow never dislodged itself, despite the odd blob that dripped from it onto her enormous boobs. The expression on her face was fierce and carnivorous, even when she was smiling.

‘I normally eat men for breakfast,’ Zalah continued, ‘but I have a feeling you’re more of a three-course meal.’

‘We probably both have a bit of the exhibitionist in us. I like a girl who wears her facials in public.’

Zalah giggled, ‘that’s about all I wear, honey.’