As he worked the sturdy oars once again, I sat demurely in front of him this time, utterly cowed by the power of him.
I bought him with my money, but now it was he who owned me.
I studied the great muscles for perhaps the hundredth time. The disc of his bicep was pumping with each stroke, my eyes widening appreciably in time.
But somehow I tore my gaze from those engorged knots of strength to his equally impressive thews. Between those, the center of my world hung behind its curtain of simple dingy loincloth, which now I knew to be cut such that it barely could cover his incredible wares.
I reached for the cloth, fingers twitching with horny anticipation, but a contemptuous snort and reproachful glance from his large brown eyes stayed my hand.
His deep, big-balled, bass voice rumbled down my spine straight to my ravenous cunny.
"I did not say you could touch."
And here I pouted briefly, driven both by his rebuff, and by my desire to show him what an enticing nest my lips could make to any eggs he might want to offer them. Huge, hot eggs. But then I got a better idea for what should be done with my pillow pucker.
I leaned down to one side, and I blew.
His loincloth softly fluttered at first, and then when I greedily unleashed a torrent of lusty air, it unfurled like a standard and flapped up his thigh, revealing my price.
And what a prize! My heart nearly stopped this time as I took it all in.
He was supremely un-aroused, 8 inches of length draped in front of him on the bench, another 6 dangling over the edge, swinging his head like a python unable to swallow a pomegranate.
"What are you doing?"
he snorted.
I lowered my still-pursed lips to the back of his dangling fuck-fruit, meeting the flared rim of his glans with the soft moist texture with them, tasting the velvet of his.
He looked stunned.
I swabbed the whole of his cockhead, accompanying the motion with my lips. I was not kissing nor sucking; merely smearing myself all over him, a messy sheen of saliva causing him to glisten.
When I pulled back and began to apply this technique to his humongous left bull-batter maker, I could hear the oars creak beneath his tightened grasp, and his sculpted brace of eight stomach muscles rolled in delight.
It was here that two things occurred to me.
The first was that Oluth had never before known the pleasure a lady's mouth can bestow upon manhood, and was experiencing more sensation than he knew how to deal with.
The second was that his fabulous arms were now blurred like a hummingbird's wings in their task. My feat of mouth-sex was going to get us to the mainland faster.
Spurned on by this I lathed my attention on his other bulging bullock, now sucking hard enough to bring the tang of his musk to the surface.
I tried hard to pop the immense oval into my mouth, but my jaw could not yield to the sheer amount of fat, tasty ball before it. Still I feasted on him as best as I could, frustrated mews of arousal escaping my throat as I worked his sac like a madwoman, nibbling with my too-soft lips, darting my tongue into every crease.
I became aware of a tension beneath my right breast.
Looking down, I saw his astonishing anaconda elevating as the blood I summoned to his head and balls began to fill out the shaft.
The husband I was leaving behind could hardly hold one of my famously weighty watermelons aloft with both hands.
Now my magnificent man-bull's prodigious prick was accomplishing the task with ease.
As my tit rose, I tongued his bulging thighs and tugged his swelling pouch to encourage its course upwards.
Before long, I leaned back slightly to better observe the progress of this union of titanic titflesh and colossal cockmeat.
My right bosom had been scooped to shoulder height, the sight of it lifting from my bodice by strength of member alone causing pleasure to course though me, erecting my nipples and causing a fountain to gush from betwixt my thighs.
But here a strange struggle ensured. Would the massive obelisk cast off the burdensome milk-jug? Or would he be forced to concede the obvious superiority of my assets over his own?
I arched an eyebrow and looked up at him, peeling back my full-pout lips in a sneering challenge.
"What's the matter stud-suitor? Not man enough for my treasures?"
I gave a giant nut one powerful squeeze between both hands, seeing what reaction I could get.
I got what I deserved, and if these events seem discombobulated, accept the fact that his cockhead's mighty blow beneath my chin might have been hard enough to dull my brain.
*THWACK!*
The sound of this collision, obscene and echoing in the empty galley.
His cock smacked into the groove of his abdominal sculpting.
My right tit flew up hard, and rebounded with life of its own, the counterbalance on the other huge orb jiggling it up to join it's twin in the open air.
My upturned face did not have time to recoil before the sudden up-spurt of arching precum stained with a wet splatter.
I blinked.
He smiled.
I stared at his 36 inch pillar of meat as droplets streaked down my cheeks, breasts now surging the open air.
"You disrobed me with a cockslap."
I stated in disbelief.
"And you underestimated me." He retorted. "Now continue this sucking." He commanded. "it would seem that I like it."
Wordlessly I launched myself into that which I do best.
* * *
There is an art to cocksucking, and I am a master of this form because I never forget the basic tools. The dick is a brush, and my face is a perfect canvas, waiting to explode with an act of creamy creation.
I started with the light touches, seizing his whopping weapon in both hands, shuddering through a mini-gasm at the mere sight of my two little fists, separated by some thirteen inches of meat, fingers unable to meet palm by the thickness that divided the two.
I leveled the opulent head and began basting myself in the face, coating cheeks, forehead, lips and jaw in his pearly precum. The stuff was as thick as a normal man's full load, but this as endless in supply.
Of course I now knew his loads were as dense as paste, yet viscous as olive oil.
I'd have to earn that.
Lustily I spread his preload around, rubbing my liberally spunked visage up and down his rod, stroking more syrupy sauce from the head into my greedy face whenever I ran out. I was determined and with hard work, every inch of the mind-shattering fuck-sausage was glistening its own marinade.
I admired my work for only a moment before craning my neck down to get truly acquainted with his glans.
The Myrnotor cock was not circumcised of course, but the sheer enormity of his meat caused that skin to peel back, exposing his head an inch below the glans like some impossible banana.
If only any fruit could taste this good.
I swabbed my tongue deep into the trench of his glans, slowly circling cooing my pleasure at the ripe taste and velvet texture.
My plush lips were not idle.