"Whoa!" roared Gilda Griffon as a pony who missed her height by three feet hurled her mega-amazon, giantess warrior body around like she was some introverted teen's pornographic cardboard display. Three feet smaller, but no less proportionally muscled and blessed with both a hyper's preternatural physiology and a cutie mark for the very concept of strength. From that strength, the pony in question had lifted her huge, twelve-foot-six body up with one hand and tossed her against the side of a crater.

Instinctively tucking in her wings while letting the rest of her go limp was all she could do. The first rewards of her chosen surrender; she loved the raw sensation of all that force. Well, most of her went limp. She could have used her nips as backup stilettos, Bulk Biceps got her that hard.

He hurled across a crater he'd made by smashing her down out of the air. Crushing her through a supernaturally reinforced and blessed platform of redwood, disintegrating the redwood pole beneath. She climaxed hard as she flew, knowing just how she'd earned getting a mating like this. Buff bod and bitchy talk, she thought before pulling herself out of the new impact depression he'd made in the hard earth with that errant gesture.

One thing was certain, as certain as the lash of her tail. If she was able to fight at all, there'd be no doubt in her cohort's mind, her legion's, even to the High Command, of her spirit.

Well, maybe not all the High Command would have complete confidence in her. Her dad was up this year, and he'd always been so… tetchy. Probably the old scag's fault I'm bein' bent for and by a pony, she thought with a huff, and rolled over.

To push herself up, clearly. And if she was taking the time to commit to a rolling flex from her calves on up to her quads, if she was shaking and shimmying glutes and tail to make sure her fuckin' fiancee-master would get the damn point this time, well. That was nobody's business but hers. And maybe his.

Bulk Biceps' temper had snapped, and with it, his self-restraint. His wings popped back and he let out a long whinny. It was too much. Not in a bad way. He had been punched, pushed, pushed in a different way... and now pleaded with. If Fluttershy and Luna had been conspiring to find a point where he both simultaneously felt like he was living his dreams and nightmares, they… probably would have involved more chairs with teeth.

And doors calling him a directionally-challenged loser.

Otherwise, though, this was pretty close.

That's freaking it! his mind roared as he bellowed, stomping towards Gilda. He was used to his footfalls echoing anyway. Here and now, each new print he stomped into the hardpacked soil was the epicenter of spiderwebs of cracks and dusty lines in the earth itself. Each pounding stride brought him closer and closer to Gilda.

Or more specifically, to Gilda, who was pretending to get up to fight him while waving her ass and drenched pussy in his general direction. The latter part was definitely making the majority influence-- like each wriggle was tugging on his tool from there.

He didn't need to be told… what was it, four times? Five times? Maybe a sixth-- look, he didn't need to be told what to do with that prime griffon haunch, again.

When he was a step away, she kicked back hard at him. Hard enough that he had to backwing slightly against the pressure her leg forced through the air. Not just a bit of a counter; he backwinged hard, just to stay on the ground. Apparently, at this point, having lost their challenge and wanting him to take charge, she felt that using her claws on him was perfectly acceptable. If Gilda's legs were truncated redwoods themselves, her claws would be enough to give a slasher movie villain dagger envy, long and wicked and sharp.

They were aimed right at his chest, with the taut hawsers and heaving masses making up her quads shoving back, while her gorgeously buff-yet-bouncy glutes provided the base action. A nasty move by all accounts. Except for one: she telegraphed the motion like she was laying cable into new territory.

"This what you want, yeah?" he growled at her as he counterpunched, slamming his fist right into her adorably supersized calf muscle.

The force of his punch sent her leg wide, her beak screeching out a protesting, "No!" before she hissed, "Yes, stupid master!" at him. While spreading her legs further and reaching up between her enormous, strength-rippled thighs. She pinned her sopping sex wide with two fingers, just in case he hadn't gotten the message.

The blatant effect of her tail curved up and then back around down so the brown tuft pointed at her pinned-open pussy was, perhaps, insulting. He tried to remember to talk about it with her later, but decided it wasn't worth the effort of doing anything other than focus on the fuck for now. The way she writhed, her claws and talons digging into the earth, and her foal-- grifflet… hippogrifflet-bearing hips curving and rolling like he was already rutting her… that screamed him everything she was trying to tell him just now.

Everything every horny, tense inch of him wanted to hear.

Then she made an abrupt addendum, slamming at him with her wings. Bulk could see this was going to be a theme for the 'rape' she demanded, and clapped his hands together. Hard. Over the sides of her wings, pinning them together. He used the hold on her wings to lock her into place as he walked down over her, twisting his hips and slamming his dick across her right rump cheek like he was caning her.

At eight inches thick, it was probably closer to a paddling.

"I get the point, Gilda!" he said, and searched his memory for what the Princesses would do. "Stay in courtier!"

"... Character, you fucking nitwit."

"Stay in it, or I stop trying to force my dick into you."

"Fine!" she snarled back at him, tail lashing and wings thrashing. At the very second Bulk scooped his hips down to bring the enormously fat, juicy flare of his prick down between her thighs, she straightened her body. "Fuck you!" she roared, spreading her already beaten wings wide so they didn't block her headbutt, right for his muzzle.

With Gilda on her knees, she was just about head to head height with him, and both of them liked it that way. Of course, she felt it necessary to lift just a bit to provide more access to her greedy cunt, and he was ducking, too. Four feet of fat horsecock is a lot of length to wield, even when your partner is more than twelve feet tall.

As a result, her headbutt went wide, though the arc of her motion carried her strong back right into Bulk's forehead. He grunted with surprise and no little pain, but she yelped again and twisted to try and maneuver her elbows to smash back. "No way!" he yelled at her, and wrapped his cable-thick arms around her sides, pulling her much beefier limbs close in and squeezing. "Give it a fucking rest and spread 'em!" he ordered. Then, thinking about it, added, "Slut!"

It wasn't, perhaps his best banter, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure that he had a best banter. He had muscles, lifting, and fanatic dedication to whatever he put his mind. That would have to do; he was dedicating himself to giving Gilda what she demanded, no matter how crazy the form of her demands.

He wasn't helped by his sense of being completely out of place, of the strangeness of this unharmonic ritual. The cheering crowd was getting on his nerves, too, and weren't helping his body shyness. But his buttons were pushed, hard,

Besides, at Fluttershy's orders, he'd fucked Fluttershy in front of the other princesses before. Fucked her to the sound of what were honestly more raunchy cheers. Yeah, he figured, the performance anxiety is hardly going to get me soft now.

Not with all that marely-- er, feminine-- picture of perfect warrior muscles in front of him. As a top aide to one of the Element Princesses, he'd been around a lot of power bods. He knew his subject matter, and in his increasingly, throbbingly, achingly biased opinion, Gilda deserved to be up there with the amazonian luminaries of Equestria.

She's so huge! he thought happily as he squeezed hard around Gilda's beefy arms and beefier body. He couldn't reach all the way around her, especially not with her arms, too, but he had enough leverage and hold to pin her in. She's huge, but I'm stronger. Yeah!

Although she promptly went into full on hissing, kicking, and spitting mode, flailing at him with the full force of her titanic body, Bulk was cheered. As he lashed his teeth across her proud shoulders fiercely, he thought, And hey, I've got enough arm to grab some tit, too. Which he did; as his crushing bearhug turned her squawks into squeaks and her calls into coughs, his strong fingers grabbed the bottom of her hefty G-cups. He took time to stroke the juicy griff-melons, fondling and squeezing them around possessively.

His body and hers felt right together. Not just the interlock of two lovers he was looking forward to, but it felt right having her fold back across his body. Felt right holding her up while all six of her limbs flailed off-center, knowing that his strength holding hers fast turned them both on.

Gilda was tough, and proud of it; apparently, she got off on pushing the edge of her toughness, too. He was hefting her up off her knees to give himself a better angle-- and her mega-amazonian thighs never got any closer together for all she was "fighting" him-- when he felt the drips of her griffon-honey suddenly become a downpour. All it took was mauling her tits around some while keeping her in an inescapable, crushing grapple.

He snorted and told himself, Good to know. With that firmly in mind, Bulk nipped her again, this time on the base of her battered left wing. He was as gentle as he thought she'd tolerate, sweat stinging his eyes as he tried to keep up with her viciously ardent lovemaking. In between the slams, another nip or two, a bit further, and she was cumming all over his plus-sized prick yet again.

The feel of her gripping pussy was amazing, the lusty folds all but vacuuming up the precum he splurted into her. Another squeaky screech, and she abandoned trying to kick him. Instead she planted her clawed feet on the side of the crater and shoved back hard to get him off.

In other words, Gilda was spreading her treetrunk legs and needy pussy wide, then rolling the huge prominence of her shoulders tight. With the leverage provided by her fuck-me stance, she slammed herself back onto his throbbing tool as fast and as hard as she could.

To get him off.

Which it nearly did, a rush of precum and a triumphant roar of pleasure escaping him as that tight musclecunt gripped at his prick. Squeezing, clenching, that mighty core of hers turned on him from the second even the very tip of his broad flare was in there. It was like her pussy was pulling his dick in as hard Bulk gritted his teeth. Sure, yeah, as "the master," he supposed it was his privilege to cum in her, go soft, and make her do the work of getting him hard again.

As the sane-ish pony fucking a giant griffon female with a berserker attitude towards life and the discipline to make it work for her, Bulk had no such pretensions. Besides, the squirt and splurt of precum was a nice-near release, his juicy dick bulging and pulsing, inside and out of crazy eagle-cat cunny. He kissed her back, nuzzling the massive ridge of tensely powerful and powerfully beautiful muscle possessively.

Mine, now, he thought as he swung his hips back and forth into her, a ripple of tightness going from calf to thigh and belly to balls.. Oh yeah. She's given herself to me, I guess. He guessed while still holding that cinching super-grip around her, holding her hefty arms tightly bound. Because while she might be using the hyper-class train pistons she called legs to buck back at him-- and wasn't the bounce of all that fat bobble on her thick ass more than enough to keep him stiff despite his dick's best efforts to explode in her-- she was using every other part of herself to put on a show for the cohort.

And through them, the judging eyes of her legion and her people. So he was careful with his kiss, timing it so he didn't bite his own lip when Gilda slammed her back into his face. He ignored the strength of her wings as she slammed them back against his head. Joke's on her, he thought between pants. My head's the second hardest part of me! Even her tail was slapping and lashing across the plump prominences of his pumped-out pecs.

Maybe ignored was the wrong word. Maybe, "appreciate" was better.

He wished he could see all of her lovely, mighty glory from the front. Not just her tits; he had a good feel of those soft mounds with his fingers holding them from beneath and behind. Not just the solid wall of muscles that was her griffon frame, caught in near-helpless climactic throes as he claimed her. No, more than that, he wanted to see her belly bulge out as his obscenely masculine shaft distended, to see as well as feel her tough abs deform and clench around him as he filled her.

Kissing vigorously between her wings, Bulk decided to live a little dangerously. He slid his hands away from her hefty G-cups, which earned him a yowl of protest all on its own. It was nothing compared to the growl he got when he started to rub off his own flare where it distended through his mighty griffon mate. "The fuck you doing?" she hissed at him.

"You're busy," he teased. "Fightin' me, yeah? Guy's gotta take care of himself if-- fuck!" he howled, and slammed forward into her as she grabbed his shoulders with her wings, lunged her titanic legs up perpendicular to her body. With her feet braced against the wall, she used her extra reach to wrap her arms back around his hefty waist. From there, apparently a cherry on top, she grabbed hold of his ass hard, all the way back behind her!

"Fuck you and fuck busy," she hissed, then let out another snarl and yowl. Her fingers anchored hard against the tautness of his glutes, and she slammed hard back against his penetrating power-prick, her mighty quads bulging as she rocked herself back and forth against him. Core clenching and pussy gushing, she pistoned herself over the impossible girth of his tool. She threw herself into it, fucking onto him faster than he'd pounded her at his best. Her sex seemed even more eager to squeeze every last drop of pre from throbbing length of his shaft.

Just as though she found any mere precum gallons an unacceptable impediment to her real goal.

Pegasus cum by the bucketload. Heh, Bulk thought. I've got barrels for you, chick. But not yet, yeah? He couldn't manage the words out loud any more than he could care about the awed audience. Shyness was forgotten in the elemental moment of passion; titan and mini-giant coming together with thunderclaps.

Not just his increasingly tightening nuts slapping Gilda's well-padded ass. Or even mostly; he wasn't that damage resistant, and her ass, beautiful as it was, was not that well-padded, either. Still, every time the vast plateaux of his pectorals slammed against her wings and back, every time she shoved her bountiful butt right back into the rugged wall of his abs, thunder screamed through the arena.

The rubble left by his final bodyslam was the first to go, fragmenting again and slamming into those columns still standing. A small part of him absent-mindedly noticed the sound. A smaller part guiltily remembered this was his new mate's sacred arena, and she probably did not quite have the same occult oomph that the princesses had when they had… used him similarly. At least Gilda wasn't quite that demanding.

Perhaps not, but outside of the thrice and thrice again reinforced structures of the Canterlot and Ponyville castles, that was about all the pair needed. When her feet curled with the force of the orgasms ripping through her, she dug deep into the earth, sending sprays of the hard-packed soil everywhere. It left her periodically having to switch where her gorgeously giant legs were bracing to keep pounding her body back onto Bulk.

Like it mattered. She clearly didn't care about the moments of vulnerability, and he wasn't checking for another way to knock her off balance. He didn’t need it.

That same small part hoped her cohort was smart enough to get under cover. But it was a very small part, and the majority of him was focused on meeting every avalanche-force slam she pistoned back on the bulge-release-bulge-release-pump of her immense legs. The not inconsiderable ripped masses of his arms moved away from his cockbulge-- well, cock and pre bulge at this point-- snapping up under her own massive limbs to once more roughly caress her huge breasts.

Bulk kept his frantic pawings just off-beat from the thrust and counterthrust to use her own enthusiasm to further stimulate her. She evidently got off on the sheer slam and bang of it, and if there was one thing being passed around as a sub by amazon alicorns had prepared him for in the matter of domming a griffon, it was this: give the lady what she wants, how she wants it, when she asks for it.

With every new crash of lover into lover, warrior into lover, Gilda's roars and cursing encouragements became higher and higher pitched. Less and less of it was coherent, or even distinguishable from one moment to the next. It all grew blurred as her body trembled in his arms, loud groans and squealing coos of pleasure erupting even faster than the pair of them could come together. Which they did, shortly, the urgent need deep in his groin overwhelming his desire to keep going for as many orgasms as he could wring out of her snatch for her.

The next time that perfect griffon bubble butt slammed home, her cunt clenching and her beak open wide for a glass-shattering scream of pleasure, his bellowing whinny joined her voice in praise of pleasure. His body joined hers in uncontrolled spasm, his muscles flexing and clenching and pumping as he arched his back, flared his little wings, and emptied his overburdened nuts straight into the roiling grip of her climaxing cunny. Just what his mate had been waiting for.

Finally! Gilda's orgasm-crazed mind screamed. She'd have screamed it at the huge-dicked fucker, but she wasn't having much of a good relationship with language at the moment. Took his sweet fucking time busy my booty gimme gimme gimme CUM!

In an eyeblink, she made a last push off the wall and then demonstrated an impossible flexibility to go with her gargantuan frame and mega-amazon build. Those hawser upon hawser legs of hers kicked back and around him without her arms letting go. Arms nothing; her huge wings unfolded to their full span, then wrapped around her stud, hers, and she clung onto him, using the ripple of her orgasm and the proud skill of her body to keep humping up and down on his belly-bloating tool.

She didn't care whether or not she knocked Bulk on his ass; he'd just knocked her through her arena, and could suck it up. Suck it up, and fill her up, and she was gonna take what he had. Fuck 'im-- more than what she was doing now-- if he couldn't deal with a little thing like gravity and impact trauma like a big boy.

As another surge of thick, virile stallion seed made Gilda's belly blossom, she purred to herself, Mm, very big boy indeed.

Then he made her pussy try to squeeze that poor, pretty dick clean off. All his fault that her folds clenched around him, that her distended abs tried to enforce a wrap around the griffon-plumping rod of his. Her fingers, arms, legs, toes, wings-- everything she could wrap, digging into all the horsemeat she could find. Because it was all his fault. All him, and all of him. All her stupid pony now, and he just had to keep being sexy, didn't he?

He wasn't even trying. Okay, Gilda, unfair, she admitted. He was trying to fuck her as much as he could without something to brace her on. But the move that made her put every last ounce of the Flyer's savagery into her kegel crush on him was almost completely passive: when she slammed back into him, lunging her weight entirely onto him, Bulk didn't fall over.

He stood, a pillar of strength composed of other, smaller, interlocking pillars of strength, in her reverse grip, rutting back up into her needy sex as much as he could without something to brace on. There was no way she could restrain her talons now, and she was delighted at how tough the hide and flesh she dug into was. So fucking tough she wasn't sure she was even breaking skin.

Her mental and emotional core, the huntress in her that longed to scream through the skies as a holy terror, was actually impressed. Good mate! she purred to herself. Promising herself that she'd keep this one, keep him forever.

Gilda wasn't entirely sure she didn't mean "forever balls deep in her," but she figured she could work that one out as they went along. Right now, the 'long' she was mainly concerned with was the deliciously oversized length of pony dick stretching her out. And with the promise she was about to get more in the stretching department.

There it was, right what she'd been waiting for. Been throwing herself harder over Bulk’s still-squirting shaft for. More. In an instant, a fresh wave hot horsecum bulged up her mate's cock. She felt the distension increase, from her sex's glorious pulse of pleasure to her hips expanding to finally, finally feeling that suckable flare spread-- and there.

Heat, heat like she couldn't believe. Heat rushing through her like every nerve was on fire with pleasure as his cum finally disgorged itself. His hands tightened on her sides and he slammed his head into her back as those lovely, low-hanging nuts of his emptied, refilled, and emptied themselves into her over again. Perfect, Gilda’s brain mewled.

She greedily took it all in, screaming in griffon at the audience: "MINE!" Fuck fighting spirit; this was triumph, no matter who had won the fight. She reveled in the tingle of-- more than heat, a spreading warmth and almost buzzing with sensation that filled her, spreading out in advance of the ever-distending wave of stallion seed. She wasn't sure what was different than other hypers or even mystically inclined males and futa she'd fucked in the past. She'd snarl it out of him later; for now, she just wanted more!

Belly ballooning as though he was either inflating her or had some way of skipping the majority of a gestation period, she crowed out her triumph again. As her song heightened, her lusciously padded breasts were left almost vibrating from the combination of core clench and roar of sensation. Stroking her wings just once in loving caress over his back, she abruptly wrapped them tighter around her mate.

There was a vibrancy in her sex, in her womb. No, not just vibrancy; a flaring holiness that felt like-- not the dualism of her Flyer, no, but something familiar. A softer presence that had its own steel, one she was familiar with. Oh, she thought as Bulk pounded her and she let her involuntary reactions grip and squirm to bless him for the effort. Flutters.

Her jaw dropped in a self-satisfied smile. She reveled in the revelation, if not as much as she reveled over the rough rod deep in her. Gilda reminded herself, I did sort of whine to Fluttershy about the amount of magic or miracle needed to get hybrids when we weren't-really-but-totally-were talking about this dweeb, didn't I? Looks like she took my concerns to heart.

A priestess should know that requests made directly to deities, whether one's own or another, would be answered in one way or another. That's okay, she thought with an entirely un-Gildaish mental giggle. Flyer doesn't get jealous of miracle-slutting like that. He just demanded that you use it well. Her eyes widened, and her beak opened even further, a horny, hungry, almost mean smile now. Yeah. Use the blessing of life well.

She turned her attention back to Bulk. Around all that pretty, pretty strength, her limbs went into extension, locking stiff where they hadn't flexed from the overrotation. She held onto her mate, her male, her stupid, dweeby pony, her triceps clinging to his deliciously broad shoulders.

Too shy, too nice, too gentle, parts of her groused, spitting against the evidence while the corded, cabled, and hawsered girth of her legs, seized hold of his thighs, feet looping behind his knees. The main presentation from the rest of her on the matter of "dweeb vs. mate" was fourfold: first, it was clear she could push him to act properly savage (and hence he did have discipline) when she needed to, and second, he was clearly a skilled fighter on the ground and air.

A proper mate for an Immunes Tribune like her, in short. The third came from the satisfaction of power; she would have done serious injury to one of her griffon playtoys like this, more than she would have considered acceptable. Bulk just grunted a little deeper, and held his stance against everything she could do.

Which lead to reason number four: if he was a dweeb at all, he was also a fucking sexy, sexy fucking, hot-bodded Haycules of a mate who could let her have a bunch more fun than the usual, insufficient fare. Given how much D and how much O she was getting from just quivering and squirming in her self-imposed bracket, Gilda felt-- insofar as she could be said to be analyzing anything in between sight and mind-blanking orgasms-- that this outweighed the dweebishness.

Even if Fluttershy wasn't likely to let Gilda rough out his smooth edges. S'fine, she thought. Just fine. Means I have more things to bitch him out about, and bring out my lovely rut-pony master. Whee!

Her sight went black again, and she slumped on Bulk, little-dead weight as her head swam. "Ee," she muttered. "Stupid sexy pony. Whoops!"

Bulk wasn't one hundred percent sure if he was on triple-up or… tetraup? Fourple up? Something. His beautiful megazonian griffon was slumped against him, but apparently, her body didn't think that meant it was time to stop pumping him. Her quivering pussy was still engaged in an only slightly less exuberant campaign to squeeze every drop of everything out of the juicy length of his cock. The sheer bliss of his release left him with absolutely no defenses in him left to fight that.

Or desire to try.

Nonetheless, he calmed, slowly, carrying her only so much now. He'd filled Gilda so full of cum he was able to lever her seed-swollen body down to against the side of the crater without worrying he'd wake her up. Cushioned on the padding he'd provided.

A blush started to creep its way up his body as he realize the griffons in the audience were applauding. Digging his feet into the earth below, pawing back and forth didn't seem to be helping-- other than the coos and purrs from the unconscious griffon giantess still wrapped around his giant-sized dick-- so he roared at them. It seemed to work for her, after all.

Somewhat to his surprise, it worked for him, too. The silence was deafening, and Bulk abruptly realized that they had no more idea of how to deal with him than he did with them right now. Ponies beating special ops tribune-priestesses of the Flyer… didn't happen. It had, though. Some of them wouldn't believe anything except that Gilda had lost her edge. They'd be gunning for her. She was his sub now, and by griffon holy law and the expectations of his princess, that meant he had an obligation.

Should I intervene again? he wondered. Abs still heaving from aftershocks from their climactic finale, he leaned against her luscious body, stroking one potent arm. A masseuse's instincts took over, and as the silence turned to whispered conversation, he began to rub his strong fingers into her sleeping flesh-- wherever there was enough muscle to get through without having to stir his seed within her.

Thankfully, that included both Gilda's arms and her back, so he went to work on the stiff muscles at the base of her wings, carefully working around the places he'd damaged in the fight, releasing even more tension in the sleeping warrior. He realized abruptly that she was what he needed-- someone with drive and passion to not let him just coast in a haze, someone with strength and skill-- more skill than him, even, especially at leadership!-- so that they could both let out their deepest, most primal halves. It would be rough; she was belligerent, temperamental, and in all honesty, more than a little crazy.

He kinda liked the crazy. And it seemed to go with the whole "griffon leadership" thing, of course. Which more than made up his mind on whether to grandstand on her behalf again.

No, he told himself. And not just because I don't wanna try to be badass while I'm not actually sure I'm soft enough to pull out. She wants to fight. It's what she loves-- in everything. Bulk was no stranger to a bit of testosterone-induced raging. His challenge-won mate took the Flyer's savagery to a whole different level, one that was as beyond him as her skills in the military sciences and arts. Hey, I can ask her to tutor me for Fluttershy's guard… It would be risky, but fun.

The other griffons were still staring at them, though, and it was getting on his nerves. Then he realized, Yeah, I can make them go away, can't I? So he roared again. "Get! OUT! Before I pull out, and make us both mad!"

The response was instant, and, because he hadn't, unfortunately, thought too far ahead, involved all the griffons in the broken arena.

For all but one of the legionnaires present, dominance had been clearly established. It was irregular, but the forms had been obeyed. Savagery had carried this strange pony they'd had in their midst through the day. He had shown the Discipline both to fervently support his submissive, and to trust that she would be able to handle herself. Some of the griffons wouldn't share his confidence, and might later challenge Gilda.

None of them disobeyed.

The griffon still stuck on the engorged mass of his dick reached back to slowly caress her broad left palm over his deep-hanging, slowly recovering nuts. The worshipful coo in her tone didn't quite match her words as she said, "Mm, yeah, master. Because I want you all to myself, and we're definitely not done with you showing me who's the boss."

It wasn't exactly not, either. And he knew better than to say, "You," to her. When she effortless moved her entire cum-filled bulk around on his cock, seizing another burst of precum and re-stiffening his shaft all along the way to hug him, he knew he'd chosen right.