#five bucks says this will be my least popular ficlet bc it has W O M E N

[miasmaghoul]

good ole fashioned kink nonsense you say??

i offer options:

1) scent kink

2) semi public sex and/or voyeurism

3) the dynamic duo of praise/degradation

4) mirror sex

your choice my horny friend 😏😚 (some lady action, perhaps?? im not picky)

SHINIES FROM CROW

I CHOSE DOOR #2

VOYEUR MOUNTAIN JACKIN' IT OVER THE GHOULETTES UNDER THE CUT

He certainly shouldn't be watching the way she straddles an equally naked Cumulus, who is stretched out on a picnic blanket amidst their sea of wildflowers and bumblebees. It's hard to tell with the sound of the water, but he thinks he hears one of them laugh when Cirrus bends to meet Cumulus in a sweet, deep kiss, hands tangling in each other's hair.

He shouldn't be here.

He was supposed to be foraging berries and wild greens for his lunch. He shouldn't be standing behind this old-growth pine tree, hidden from the summer sun in deep shadow, gazing into a clearing instead. He shouldn't be watching the way droplets of water drip from Cirrus's breasts as she wades naked out of the stream nearby, sparkling as they glide over her pale skin.

Mountain swallows hard when Cirrus's hand drifts south, sinking into the softness of Cumulus's breast. Squeezing, gently kneading, catching the nipple between two elegant fingertips and rolling it until the shorter ghoulette is wriggling. Cirrus starts a line of kisses down her jaw, down her pale throat, and Mountain palms himself through his jeans. He's chubbing up so quick, he can't help it. He's always liked to watch.

Cirrus slides down Cumulus's body and leaves a trail of shining water droplets behind. They glint in the afternoon sun, accenting Cumulus's gorgeous curves like flecks of diamond. Her breasts, her belly, her hips - the further Cirrus moves, trailing wet kisses the whole way, the more ethereal Cumulus becomes. Her white curls are spread out in a stunning halo, brilliant against the red of the blanket. Cumulus palms her own chest as Cirrus kneels back and spreads those plush thighs, and Mountain has to bite his hand to keep from groaning.

They've clearly been at this for a while, Cumulus slick and swollen between her legs. Cirrus has her open and dripping, kissing over her mound and across her thighs, and Mountain is fishing himself out of his pants before he has time to think about it. It's already wet at the tip. He really likes to watch.

Cirrus lifts her head and speaks but Mountain can't make out the words over the rush of the stream. He gives himself a slow stroke as he watches Cirrus press her fingers into the pudge of Cumulus's stomach. He wants to sink his teeth into it to hear her giggle. Cumulus smiles fondly at Cirrus in response and reaches into their picnic basket, coming back with a handful of strawberries most certainly pilfered from the greenhouse. She holds one up between two polished fingers, the red of her nails brighter than the fruit between them, and Mountain's cock throbs when Cirrus licks at Cumulus's fingers and plucks the berry away with her tongue.

A spurt of precum leaks from his tip when Cirrus dips back down and runs her fingers through Cumulus's slick folds, biting gently at her thigh. He yearns to join them, to bury his face in Cumulus until she sees fit to release him. Or until he drowns, whichever comes first. Cirrus drags her red-stained tongue over soft skin and Mountain mirrors the motion by running a finger over his twitching shaft, biting his other hand again when Cirrus's licks just above the swollen bud of her clit. She lifts her head to speak again, and Mountain is certain she's telling Cumulus she tastes sweeter than those berries.

It's torture when Cirrus puts her mouth to work, lapping at Cumulus's cunt with the flat of her tongue. Mountain huffs out a pained breath when Cumulus draws her knees up, hips rolling against Cirrus's face, hands flying to her own hair. Her moans are harsh and breathy, bits of them carried to his ears on the fragrant summer breeze. It's honey-thick and floral, but undercut with something deeper. Tinged with salt. It makes Mountain's cock kick and drool, makes his mouth water. He rests his forehead against the rough bark of his tree and starts stroking in earnest, sucking air through clenched teeth.

Cirrus flicks her skilled tongue over Cumulus's clit in lazy swirls, slipping two fingers into her with no resistance. She pumps them in and out and Mountain matches her with his own hand, smearing pre down his length. Cumulus arches off the blanket with a soft cry and Mountain thinks Cirrus must have crooked her fingers against that one really good spot. Mountain can hear her moans in his head, tightening his hand as memories of being buried deep inside the ghoulette flood his mind. So tight around him, so soft beneath his hands.

"Fuck," he gasps, rubbing just under the head. His eyes are glued to the the way Cumulus writhes in the sun, to the way her curls bounce around her head. The way Cirrus licks at her so casually, chasing her every move. Her unused hand slides over Cumulus's hip, searching the blanket blindly until it finds the squirming ghoulette's arm. Their fingers lace together so easily, so perfectly. It's the most intimate thing he can imagine, and Mountain's chest aches with want. Cumulus's other hand winds into Cirrus's damp hair and tugs.

Mountain chokes when Cirrus looks up, tongue and fingers still working their magic, and Cumulus gazes down at her with nothing but obvious love and adoration. Her silver eyes blown black, heavy lidded and unfocused. Her kiss-bruised lips slick with spit. She looks so beautifully wrecked, and Cirrus must agree. Mountain's strokes go uneven and jerky as she works with renewed vigor, curled fingers rubbing that spot and her tongue working circles around Cumulus's clit. Mountain can see her thighs shaking.

A louder moan cuts through the hum of bees and junebugs and he can't hold back any longer, huffing for breath as he brings his empty hand to cup his balls. Mountain's mouth hangs open as he watches Cumulus hold Cirrus's head still to grind against her face. He gets a few more pulls in before he's spilling onto the dirt with a tight groan. He wants to sob for how good it feels, but he can't make himself interrupt the beautiful scene playing out before him.

He stays through Cumulus's orgasm, watching how she clamps down around Cirrus's head and shudders, her softest parts shaking decadently. He wants to touch every part of her, of both of them. To be smothered in them. But this isn't about him, and he's intruded enough already. He watches Cirrus lick her fingers clean and crawl back up Cumulus's aftershock-riddled body, capturing her in a tongue-filled kiss that must have an undertone of strawberry.

Mountain shakes himself back to his senses, zipping up and wiping his hand on his jeans. He grabs his discarded foraging basket and gets back to work, head spinning and knees shaking.

In the spot where he left his mess, a shock of violets and baby's breath grows to life.