Hello S&S❤️🔥 You think lil Kurt could be hermaphrodite?? U know, a juicy ssypu and a devilish dih, edging both to let him cry and beg 🫄
Apologies for taking so long to reply! I decided to set this one aside for dessert. This ask, ah, brought something out of me.
I will admit I have thought of Kurt with a pussy before (as in ftm), but a hermaphrodite? Why settle on one when you can have the best of both worlds, huh? That's wise.
That being said, the picture drawn does sound exceptionally enticing. Having him sprawled before you, in all his naked glory, dark and graceful like a panther — seemingly satiated but watching your every move with undeniable hungry curiosity. Your own eyes rake all over his body, not sure where to look first, what to drink in more, and oh, what a glorious, one-of-a-kind sight indeed. His pretty, thin cock, swollen purple with blood, lies heavily on his thigh and weeps clear tears onto the fur. Taut velvety balls hang, appetizingly round, and clench ever so slightly. And below, oh below, is a hidden treasure, an exquisite delicacy you cannot wait to press your tongue flat against — a pair of lips, covered in a tangle of coarser hair already shiny with slick, warm and soft even at a glance.
He is wet, wet in both senses, in both places, and that certainly does unspeakable things to your self-esteem. Saliva floods your mouth, eager to devour the man before you just as wholly as your eyes are.
"Haven't chickened out yet?" Kurt drawls in that teasing, accented purr of his, and you realize your hands are twitching, but it's not nerves, oh no — it's impatience. Dumbly you shake your head no, and he beckons you closer with his tail. A smooth, hypnotizing curl, the sharp tip of his spade pointing right where he wants you. And you heed the command with the servility of a believer in front of the holy relics.
Your first instinct is to pounce on him, to forgo any prelude and any shame, but you force yourself to show some restraint. And so you nuzzle into the surprisingly tender midnight blue skin of his inner thigh, licking it along the border where it meets his sleek coat*, allowing yourself to trace the underside of his meaty tail and stroke the bones of his ankles with your thumbs. You love him whole — you always have, ever since you first laid eyes on him — and you would hate for him to doubt that, but you just can't help it. Can't stop staring at the unusual, mesmerizing, and absolutely delicious sight in front of you. Can't stop drooling like a mutt wanting just one little taste...
Kurt chuckles condescendingly above you, a rumble that makes even the fat of his thighs quiver just a bit. His palm is gentle against your cheek when he cups your face, and for a moment you think he will direct you higher, towards his sinful, dark, smiling lips — but instead he pushes you forward. Just a nudge, a small encouragement, a pressure so light you could have easily withstood it, yet you dive in as if he pulled you by a leash with a rough yank. Oh thank god. You didn't even have to beg for it.
Your face plants into the heated softness of his balls, nose brushing the base of his cock, and instantly the heady smell of musk envelops your senses with such intensity that something clicks in your head, like a missing piece slotting itself into its rightful place, and a white-hot desire floods the cavity of your skull, suddenly pleasantly hollow. Less than a dozen gulps of air, and already you feel spellbound to stay here like that forever — the rest of the world be damned — yet you have other matters to attend to. Lovingly you nuzzle into the supple flesh before moving lower, where you really need to be. Where he needs you the most, too.
When you finally find his cunt with your greedy mouth, it pulses against your tongue, wet, succulent, clenching desperately, and a groan breaks somewhere in your throat because suddenly you cannot breathe properly anymore, all air stolen from your lungs. And when Kurt's thighs close around your head, you cannot hear properly anymore either, but you don't need to, no, not really — god, all that the remnants of the gray matter in your head can focus on is working your tongue along the gushing vulva in front of you. Up and down, in and out, circling the fat, throbbing clit, all while his balls rest atop your nose and twitch sporadically, spurring you on. Saliva mingled with slick coat your face, squelch in your mouth, and you're swallowing so much of it, yet your throat still feels dry with thirst. Dark lush hair tickles your cheeks, sticks to your lips, and it's so, so wonderful that you don't ever want to resurface, oh no. You want to stay here, in that plush cage of raw carnality, as you suck and lick and slurp and drink down — and get rewarded with Kurt's fingers raking against the skin of your head, scratching behind the ear with blunt nails like one would an obedient pet.
At some point blindly you stretch one arm out, hand groping for his neglected cock, and when your fingers close around the shaft, it's hard, scalding hot, and absolutely drenched. Kurt's stomach rises and falls with a quick, deep intake of breath, and he arches beneath you, thighs squashing your head, and even through the fat of them you hear him moan — a drawn-out, bleeding thing that soon slips into breathless gasps as you work your fist from the base to the swollen tip, rivulets of moisture escaping your clutch. He's murmuring something, repeating the same word over and over as if hit by a feverish delirium, but you can't make it out over the noise boiling in your ears. The heat sits like a plastic bag around your head, everything wobbles and loses any sense, and soon you stop feeling the seconds and minutes pass by. It all blends into an indivisible river — the sharp smell of sweat, the earthy taste of essence on your tongue, the honesty of your body squelching in your underwear...
Suddenly you feel him shake. You feel it through your tongue, with your whole face, with your hands — convulsions so violent you are almost forced to let go, to abandon your delightful task. The thighs around your head move senselessly, pressing your ears and squeezing your cheeks, and the sweet cunt you've been making out with so passionately is now escaping your mouth, smearing slick all over your jaw and nose, and you can't have that, no, no, not now, not ever—
When Kurt comes, it's with a shout — so loud it reverberates throughout your whole body, ringing in your bones, tearing through the tight knot of your insides, and you know he's spilling a moment before he actually does, because his balls pull up on your nose and tighten and pulse and the smell of musk is so, so overwhelming you have no idea how it hasn't suffocated you yet. He comes in spurts, and you hold him through it, eyebrows furrowed, hand stubbornly clinging to his cock, just below the head, and mouth unmoving around his clit — both pulsing with wild heartbeats. You wait it out, a moment, a moment longer, and then it's gone. Kurt's whole body softens, goes limp, and his thighs fall carelessly on both sides of you, and suddenly you are hit with the coolness of fresh air against your clammy skin. Wind moves through the room with a hushed rustle, and it's dark outside, a gnawed piece of the moon peeking from above the window.
It's like you've woken up in the middle of the evening without even remembering falling asleep in the first place, and with fascinated stupefaction, you slowly examine your hand — covered in slime and cum, the skin on the fingertips wrinkled from moisture — and then trail your gaze to the whitish ribbons on Kurt's heaving belly. Just how long has it been?…
His eyes are half-lidded — two embers smoldering in the darkness, ready to go out at any moment — but his lips twitch ever so slightly, exhaustion struggling against utter satisfaction. You've never seen him so drained before, and somehow you know that from now on you can add a new item to the list of your and his personal training exercises.
*it's a reference to my own headcanon that Kurt has hairless areas on the inside of his thighs. Saying that just in case.
P.S. for those who need it: I know hermaphroditism is more complicated than that, but it's just a horny rumble for the sake of horny rumble.
