The sun hung low over the jagged peaks of Eldoria, casting a golden haze across the dense Whispering Woods. Garrick, a rugged monster hunter with broad shoulders and a scar tracing his jaw, trudged through the underbrush, his longsword slick with ichor. His leather armor clung to his sweat-soaked frame, the weight of a freshly slain direwolf carcass slung over his shoulder. The beast's blood dripped onto the forest floor, mingling with the damp earth. By midday, he'd hauled his prize to the Adventurer's Guild in the bustling trade city of Varnholt.
"Another fine kill, Garrick," grunted Old Marla, the guild's grizzled quartermaster, her fingers deftly counting out a pouch of gold crowns. Her eyes lingered on his muscled arms, but Garrick's mind was elsewhere. His cock twitched at the thought of the night to come—those lush, heavy-breasted milfs at the Velvet Veil, their cunts dripping with need, begging for his thick shaft.
Daylight was for coin. Night was for indulgence.
---
The Velvet Veil glowed like a beacon of sin under Varnholt's moonlit streets, its crimson curtains swaying in the breeze. The air inside was thick with perfume, sweat, and the musky tang of arousal. Garrick pushed through the beaded entrance, his boots thudding against the polished floor. The brothel's madam, a voluptuous woman named Sylvara, greeted him with a knowing smirk. Her tits strained against her corset, nipples hard beneath the sheer fabric.
"Back so soon, love?" she purred, her voice like honeyed wine. "The girls have been *aching* for you."
Garrick's grin was feral. "Bring me Lirien. And that new one—Kalia, was it?"
Sylvara's laugh was low and throaty. "Greedy bastard. They're yours."
Minutes later, he was in a lavish chamber, velvet drapes pooling like blood on the floor. Lirien, a curvaceous elven milf with silver hair cascading over her massive, heaving breasts, lounged on the bed. Her thighs parted, revealing a glistening pussy, slick and swollen with desire. Kalia, a human widow with an ass so round it begged to be spanked, knelt beside her, her dark curls framing a face flushed with lust.
"Fuck, you're perfect," Garrick growled, shedding his tunic. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, already leaking precum. Lirien's eyes gleamed as she crawled forward, her heavy tits swaying, nipples brushing the sheets.
"Been too long, hunter," she whispered, her tongue flicking out to lap at his tip. Her mouth was hot, wet, swallowing him inch by inch until her throat bulged. Kalia wasn't idle—she straddled his thigh, grinding her dripping cunt against his leg, leaving a trail of slick juices.
Garrick gripped Lirien's hair, fucking her face with slow, deliberate thrusts. "That's it, choke on it, you filthy elf." Her moans vibrated around his shaft, spit dribbling down her chin onto her tits. Kalia whimpered, her fingers circling her clit as she watched, her ass jiggling with every desperate hump.
He pulled free from Lirien's mouth with a wet pop, shoving her onto her back. Her legs spread wide, pussy lips parting to show her throbbing pink core, dripping onto the sheets. "Beg for it," he commanded.
"Please, Garrick," Lirien gasped, her voice breaking. "Fuck my cunt. Stretch me with that fat cock."
He didn't hesitate. One brutal thrust buried him to the hilt, her walls clenching like a vice. She screamed, back arching, tits bouncing as he pounded her. Kalia crawled over, straddling Lirien's face, smothering the elf with her juicy ass. Lirien's tongue plunged into Kalia's sopping hole, slurping greedily as Garrick's balls slapped against her chin.
"Gods, your pussy's so tight," he groaned, gripping Lirien's hips hard enough to bruise. Her juices coated his shaft, squelching with every thrust. Kalia rode Lirien's face harder, her own fingers pinching her nipples, moaning like a bitch in heat.
"Switch," Garrick barked, pulling out. Lirien's cunt gaped, leaking a mix of her cream and his precum. He flipped Kalia onto all fours, her massive ass high in the air. One hand cracked against her cheek, leaving a red handprint. She yelped, pushing back, her pussy winking invitingly.
He slammed into her, her ass rippling with the force. "Fuck, you're soaked," he grunted, watching her juices drip down her thighs. Lirien, insatiable, slid beneath them, sucking his balls into her mouth as he railed Kalia. The room filled with the wet sounds of flesh on flesh, moans, and the creak of the bed.
Kalia came first, her cunt spasming around him, squirting onto Lirien's face. "Oh gods, I'm—fuck!" she wailed, shaking. Garrick didn't stop, pounding through her orgasm until Lirien grabbed his arm, desperate.
"My turn again," she begged, spreading her pussy with both hands. He obliged, flipping her onto Kalia, their tits mashing together as he alternated between their holes. Both milfs were a mess—cunts dripping, faces glazed with each other's juices, begging for his cum.
"Gonna fill you both," he snarled, his thrusts erratic. He pulled out, stroking his cock as ropes of thick, hot cum painted their tits and faces. They licked it off each other, tongues tangling, pussies still twitching from aftershocks.
As dawn crept through the curtains, Garrick dressed, tossing a few extra crowns onto the bed. "Until next time, ladies."
Lirien and Kalia, spent and glistening, could only moan in agreement, their bodies marked by his claim.
The guild hall stank of ale, sweat, and desperation. A new posting had gone up at dawn, parchment still wet with ink: **"Crimson Wyrm sighted in the Ashen Vale. 500 gold crowns. Dead or alive."**
Garrick's cock had been half-hard since he read it. Not for the coin, though five hundred crowns would buy a month of the Velvet Veil's finest milfs, but for the thrill. A wyrm's lair meant heat, sulfur, and the kind of raw danger that made a man's blood sing. And when the hunt was done, the release would be *cataclysmic*.
He took the contract without a word. Old Marla's eyes narrowed. "You'll need more than that sword, boy. Wyrms don't die easy."
Garrick just grinned, already tasting the night to come.
The Ashen Vale was a scar across the earth, black glass and smoldering fissures. The wyrm's lair yawned like a furnace mouth, heat shimmering in waves. Garrick stripped to the waist, sweat carving rivers down his chest. His cock strained against his breeches, half from the heat, half from the memory of last night: Lirien's cunt clenching around him, Kalia's ass rippling under his palm.
The wyrm struck without warning, a crimson blur of scales and flame. Garrick rolled beneath a gout of fire, blade flashing. The beast roared, tail lashing. He ducked, slashed, *felt* the give of flesh. Blood hissed on the stone. Hours blurred into a dance of steel and fire. When the wyrm finally collapsed, its throat opened to the sky, Garrick stood over it, chest heaving, cock throbbing like a second heartbeat.
He carved out the heart, still steaming, and slung it into a rune-etched sack. The guild would pay triple for a fresh organ. But first...
The Velvet Veil was quieter tonight. A private party had booked the upper floors, some noble with a taste for the exotic. Sylvara met him at the door, lips painted blood-red.
"Bad night to be greedy, hunter," she murmured. "But I saved you something special."
She led him past the main hall, up a back stair. The room was smaller, darker, lit only by a single crimson lantern. A woman waited on the bed, not Lirien, not Kalia. Older. *Riper*. Her skin was sun-kissed bronze, hair a wild cascade of black curls. Her tits were *monumental*, heavy and pendulous, nipples dark and thick as wine corks. Her ass spilled over the edge of the mattress, a lush, jiggling promise. Between her thighs, her pussy gleamed, swollen lips parted, dripping slow and steady onto the sheets.
"Name's Veyra," Sylvara said, closing the door. "Used to run with the Free Companies. Retired to warmer beds."
Veyra didn't speak. She just spread her legs wider, fingers sliding through her slick folds, and *moaned*. The sound went straight to Garrick's cock.
He was on her in seconds. No words. No games. His mouth latched onto one fat nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing. Veyra arched, a guttural cry ripping from her throat. Her cunt *gushed*, a fresh flood coating her thighs. Garrick shoved two fingers inside her, then three, curling hard. She was molten, clenching, *soaked*.
"Fuck me," she finally rasped, voice rough as gravel. "Been *years* since I had a real cock."
Garrick didn't need telling twice. He flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up. Her ass was a masterpiece, two perfect globes begging for his hands. He cracked one cheek, then the other, watching the flesh bounce. Veyra *sobbed* into the pillow, pushing back, her pussy winking desperately.
He buried himself in one brutal thrust. She was tighter than he expected, walls fluttering around his girth. "Gods, you're *huge*," she gasped, fingers clawing the sheets. He set a punishing pace, hips slamming, balls slapping her clit. Each thrust sent ripples through her ass, her tits swinging beneath her like pendulums.
"Touch yourself," he growled. "Want you squirting when I fill you."
Veyra obeyed, fingers frantic on her clit. Her moans turned to screams, body shaking. Garrick felt her cunt lock down, *milking* him, and then she *exploded*, a hot gush soaking his thighs, the bed, the floor. He didn't stop. Couldn't. He fucked her through it, through the next orgasm, until her voice was hoarse and her pussy was a sloppy, dripping mess.
Only then did he pull out, flipping her onto her back. Her tits were flushed, nipples raw. He straddled her chest, cock slick with her cream, and slid between those glorious breasts. Veyra pressed them together, tongue darting out to lap at his tip each time it emerged. The sight undid him.
With a roar, he came, thick ropes painting her neck, her chin, her tits. She rubbed it in like oil, fingers trailing through the mess, then licked them clean with a wicked grin.
Later, as the wyrm's heart cooled in its sack and Veyra dozed in a puddle of their combined fluids, Garrick dressed. Sylvara slipped him an extra pouch, heavy with coin.
"Noble upstairs wants a wyrm-scale cloak," she said. "You just made us both rich."
Garrick smirked, adjusting his still-half-hard cock. "Tell him the hunter's fee includes *exclusive* access to Veyra. She's mine now."
Sylvara's laugh followed him into the night. Tomorrow, another hunt. Tonight, the taste of milf cunt lingered on his tongue, and the promise of more burned in his blood.
The cycle never ended. And Garrick wouldn't have it any other way.
The wyrm's bounty bought Garrick three things: a new edge on his blade, a fat purse, and a rumor.
Whispers in the guild spoke of a ruined keep in the Fogmarsh, haunted by a succubus who fed on lust instead of souls. The reward was a thousand crowns, *if* the hunter brought back her horns intact. Garrick's cock stirred at the thought. Succubi were legend, but legends bled. And if the stories were true, she'd be the ripest milf he'd ever sunk into.
He left at dusk, the Fogmarsh swallowing him in gray mist and the stench of rot. The keep loomed like a broken crown, vines choking its towers. Inside, the air was thick, humid, laced with a scent that made his balls ache: ripe pussy, heavy and sweet.
The great hall was lit by guttering braziers. She waited on a throne of black marble, legs crossed, wings folded like a cloak. Not the lithe demon of tavern tales. No. This succubus was *built* for sin: skin the color of fresh cream, horns curling like a ram's, tits so massive they spilled over the arms of the throne, nipples pierced with silver rings that glinted in the firelight. Her ass, even seated, was a plush, heart-shaped promise. Between her thighs, her cunt glistened, lips fat and parted, a slow drip of nectar pooling on the stone.
"Human," she purred, voice like velvet dragged over steel. "You reek of milf cunt. How *delicious*."
Garrick's sword was out in a heartbeat, but his cock was harder. "Horns or your head, demon. Guild's paying."
She laughed, standing. Her tits swayed, heavy, hypnotic. "You'll have to *earn* them, hunter."
With a flick of her tail, the braziers flared. Shadows writhed, forming chains that snapped around his wrists, yanking him to his knees. She stalked forward, hips rolling, pussy leaving a trail of slick on the floor.
"First," she whispered, straddling his face, "you'll drink."
Her cunt smothered him, hot and dripping, the taste of honey and sin flooding his mouth. Garrick groaned, tongue plunging deep. She ground down, wings flaring, tits bouncing as she rode his face. Her juices coated his beard, his neck, *drowning* him. He sucked her clit, teeth grazing, and she *shrieked*, a gush of nectar squirting into his throat.
The chains loosened. Garrick surged up, sword forgotten, hands gripping her ass. He spun her, bending her over the throne. Her tail wrapped his thigh, pulling him closer. "Fuck me," she snarled. "Break me with that mortal cock."
He did. One thrust split her open, her cunt *scalding*, walls rippling like a living thing. She pushed back, ass clapping against his hips, tits swinging so hard the silver rings chimed. "Harder," she demanded, claws raking the marble. "Ruin me!"
Garrick obliged, pounding her until the throne cracked. Her pussy clenched, *sucking* him deeper, and she came with a howl, wings beating, a flood of demonic cream soaking his balls. He didn't stop. Couldn't. He flipped her onto her back, legs over his shoulders, and *drilled*. Her tits bounced wildly, nipples leaking a thin, sweet milk that he lapped up between thrusts.
"Cum in me," she begged, voice breaking. "Fill your succubus whore."
He roared, hips stuttering, and unloaded. Thick ropes painted her insides, overflowing, dripping down her ass. She milked him dry, cunt spasming, then shoved him back with a grin.
The chains were gone. His sword lay nearby. Her horns, too, were within reach, severed clean, no blood, just a faint shimmer of magic.
"A deal's a deal," she said, licking cum from her fingers. "Take them. But know this, hunter: every milf you fuck from now on will taste *me* on your cock. I've marked you."
Dawn found Garrick trudging back through the Fogmarsh, horns in his sack, cock raw and aching. The guild paid without question. Old Marla's eyes widened at the bounty, but Garrick was already moving, drawn by a new scent: the Velvet Veil, and the promise of Veyra's dripping cunt.
He found her in the baths, waist-deep in steaming water, tits floating like islands. She didn't speak, just bent over the edge, ass up, pussy glistening. Garrick took her there, water sloshing, her screams echoing off the tiles. When he came, buried to the hilt, he swore he tasted the succubus's honey on Veyra's tongue.
The cycle tightened. Hunt. Fuck. *Crave*.
And somewhere in the dark, a demon smiled, knowing the hunter was hers as much as the milfs were his.