“You do know I can feel you enjoying yourself in there,” smirked Count, as he felt the nature of the squirming within him shift into a more salacious series of shudders. The monotonous motions of masturbation unmistakable, letting the Pegasus know exactly what Pitch was doing now that he had been successfully stowed in the steamy seclusion of a sloshing stomach. Each sensual stroke from his stallion snack discernible through the taut tummy, as he curled up shape could be clearly seen self-indulging within the gut’s churning caress.

The wanton wanking not even pausing as it was pointed out, as the stallion seemed set on making the most of his dwindling time, and any pause could prevent him from rubbing one out before the stomach invariably sluiced him. Pitch preferring to be pulped well engaged in the throes of passion, though the thought that his predator was now an audience to his self-stimulation couldn’t help but make his half-chub cock twitch. The unicorn’s frog fumbling against his throbbing girth, as he tried to get a grip amongst the stomach’s slippy shifting, though for the time being he was unable to properly find his rhythm in the shifting darkness of his pulsing prison.

Pitch barely hearing his consumer’s comments, as the veil of flesh surrounding him distorted the words to a light murmur that was barely audible over the guts gurgling. The entombed equine just ignoring the distraction, as Pitch found himself preoccupied in his primal pursuit to silkily soothe his sensitive shlong. The stallion stumbling a few times, but soon enough he began to fluster the fornicating feelings, and his groin began to grind against his hoof as he began to milk his manhood. Pitch’s grasp tight, as he worked his wood into a depraved diamond, as just the fact he knew Count was watching added an extra naughtiness to his lecherous actions, that did little to deflate the kinkiness of his simmering situation.

Count’s soon to be processed passenger beginning to pant, his heart quickening as his bode edged ever closer to releasing up his pent-up need. Pitch’s hoof putting a sheen on his shaft as he lathered stomach acid upon his stiff sausage at a pleasurable pace until it was honed to an unprecedented horny hardness. The struggle snuggle causing the stomach to sway, but from the speed of his bucking banquet, Count knew he would have to be a bit faster if he wanted to finish before the belly melted his masturbating meal into a meaty mush.

Not like it mattered much to the soon to be paunchy Pegasus if Pitch’s seed was in his balls or glazing the inside of his barrel a musky white. The passion paint would in the end offer the same meagre nutritional value regardless of how it sat in the stomach, as the spilt splooge would digest all the same at the end of the day as long as the coital cream was contained within his gargantuan gut. The masculine milk just another spice to taint his burps as it pleasantly passed over his palate with a musky resonance, reminding him of the succulent slab of man meat broiling in his belly. The taste tantalizing his tastebuds in a blossoming backwash as his food gave the final flourishes before embarking on their festering fate as future faecal matter.

A slight sting already shivering over Pitch’s skin, as the enzymes began to eat at the equine, but he cared little, as his desire for dopamine drove him ever closer to orgasmic oblivion. The will for one last thrill putting on the pressure, pushing Pitch forward as he recklessly beat his concrete cock as he skirted the line in tearing the skin. The erogenous extremity just bobbing to the attentive action, as bit by bit he stimulated the sweet spots until his prostate began pumping like a pressurized pipe. The euphoric eruption like a pelvic sneeze as in the stale air he howled in braying bliss upon feeling the sexual spasm rip forth from his lubricated loins.

His legs doing a jerking jug as though he was shuffling into a pair of pants, as he drained his deviance in a milky gush of gametes. The unicorn nickering as he nuzzled against the stomach lining unable to do much more than ride out the repressed riptide as he basted the belly in baby batter. Count feeling him lock up letting him his frisky food had found the coital convulsion and sated his needs of the flesh in a sudden spurt. The liquid love flowing in a tide of male emotion, leaving Pitch to audibly grunt as he wound down in the claustrophobic clasp of the gut. Count mulling the final fidgets of his food’s afterglow, before giving his dinner a pat on the head and letting out a moist burp giving a glimmer of the sweaty session that had just played out within him. The sudden loss of atmosphere causing Pitch to let out an instinctual spasm as he drowned in the digestive depths, but Count just braced himself, as he knew in a couple of seconds the suffocating complaints would cease….

...............................

Count partakes in Pitch but the green unicorn gets a bit frisky in the stomach...

A lemon done for one of my patrons on Patreon. They requested a story to be written for an image they got from Macdaddy's patreon ( https://www.patreon.com/macd/posts? )

I also now have a patreon, if you would like to support me, it can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/doomfister

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