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DESCRIPTIONYour slimiest dreams are about to come true. In this collection of fantastical erotica, women are seduced by the strangest and horniest lovers in the galaxy! From naughty tentacles to lustful orcs, Veronica Sloan brings you six tales of breeding, bondage and impregnation.EXCERPTFrom "Ménage à Tentacle":One rambunctious tentacle wiggled its beak into her deep cleavage and she slapped it like a naughty child. "I said behave, you creep!" The tentacle retreated, beak downcast in an unmistakable sulk. "Ohhh, baby," she intoned. She took it in her hands and gently pried the beak open with her thumb. The tentative tongue reappeared. And with it, the slick pink head.I watched with a curious mixture of disgust and fascination as the tongue slithered into her mouth and gently probed her cheeks. She bit down on it playfully and giggled as it made a sound like a raspberry. The tongue retreated into the glistening slit on the pink head, which Thorn stroked with her satin thumbs and then kissed. Mollified, the head retreated into the beak and the tentacle rolled against her neck like a sleepy snake. "Grapla are psychoforms," she said. "You and I need material things to survive. Food, water, sunlight. Grapla resonate to life itself. They prefer raw emotions. Fear is particularly potent, which is why they make such effective partners."The Grapla took great pride in what she said. Its tentacles rose in a lethal chorus and trilled a dozen haunting tones that melted and faded and complemented each other. It was a stirring sound, accompanied by the hollow clacks of its deadly beaks opening and shutting like hungry birds.For a moment, the saloon went silent. Large men, cyborgs, and thuggish hybrids of all shapes and sizes, clutched their drinks in fear.The sound had its most visible effect on Thorn. Her cheeks flushed, her bosom lifted with unconcealed longing. She pulled two tentacles from the pack and let them drape across her chest. "But love is their life," she said. "They die quickly without companionship. They don't grow large in the wild. Some can get by scavenging at the fringes of population centers, but they need a mate to thrive. Someone who loves them unconditionally." She kissed the tops of her lovers' heads."Do you ever miss the touch of your own kind?" I asked.Another smirk. "I had plenty of lovers, men and women and otherwise, before I began my trial. There were skilled lovers, certainly, but even the greatest geishas on Rao's moons cannot compare to Strabo." The tentacles, excited by her praise, wriggled beneath her like a bouncing throne. She stroked a thick vein that throbbed beneath its skin. "No one has ever loved me longer, deeper, more completely. No lover has ever trusted me so fully or given me such respect. I am his wife, his mistress, his darling mother. And he is my world."
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© Copyright 2017, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved
NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer: The stories in this anthology contain explicit content and are intended for adults only. All characters depicted are 18-years-old and older. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. It would also be really weird considering, you know, all the monster stuff.
EXTRA SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: This is a work of erotic fantasy. The sexual situations depicted in this collection feature rough tentacle sex, impregnation, and monsters seducing human characters--with some characters more reluctantly seduced than others. In real life, consent is never an option (monsters or no monsters). That's why I've written these stories down, so we can enjoy being naughty together in the privacy and comfort of our minds. Thank you for partaking in my smut and please remember to bump uglies responsibly!
Cover concept by Veronica Sloan. Cover art by TheKite.
* * *
The Octopus's Bride
When Kimmy Noguchi meets her aquarium's latest catch, it's love at first sight. That love becomes surprisingly literal when the creature escapes its tank and wraps her in an eight-legged embrace! As Kimmy struggles to escape her sticky situation, the octopus begins to explore her body. She should be so embarrassed, but the tentacles feel so good...
© Copyright 2017, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved
* * *
Kimmy Noguchi arrived at the Marine Institute thirty minutes late, her heart struggling to escape her chest. She'd never been late before. As she scampered through the parking lot, she did her best to comb her long black hair with her fingers. The heavy fog clung to her skin and left dew in her eyelashes. It stuck her thin white blouse to her chest. Most annoyingly, the condensation mixed with her sweat, which did not help the queasy dread that filled her stomach. "Not only late but a mess," she murmured. "Carl's going to fire me for sure."
She stopped to catch her breath at the Marine Institute's staff entrance. With a groan of distaste, she peeled her blouse from her breasts. Everything was wet. That was how it was most mornings but this time it felt like the moisture was invading her every pore. The Institute was built up against the rocky California shoreline and the nearby mountains kept the marine layer pinned to the coast. A sheen of condensation marked her from her ankles to the hem of her shorts.
She was born and raised in Arizona where the desert could evaporate the very water from your mouth. When she started her internship at the Marine Institute, the fog was a beautiful novelty. Soon, however, the sunless mornings rankled her desert soul. It felt like the MI was hidden from the sun, from all that was warm and familiar.
As she jogged to the labs inside the gray concrete building, she tried to ignore her sense of creeping dread. She saw the empty buildings in a watery blur, through the rain drops on her glasses. Deep breaths, the echoes of her sneakers slapping the pavement. The smell of the sea was fierce inside her nostrils. She heard the nearby waves pounding the rocky shore.
She didn't see anyone in the quad so she jogged directly to the labs. Inside, beneath bright fluorescent lights, Carl Jacoby sat beside a microscope scribbling in his notebook. "Carl!" she called to him, nearly in tears and out of breath.
He looked up from his notebook in alarm. The expression quickly shifted to one of warmth. His sandy blonde beard was white around the edges, a match for his snowy eyebrows. "Kimmy! Good morning!"
She slid to a halt before him and filled her aching lungs. "I'm so sorry, sir. I-I know I'm late. It won't ever happen again, but--" Should she tell him? It might save her job. "My boyfriend." She winced as the word left her lips. She never liked thinking of Garrett as her boyfriend (but neither did she like thinking that she'd never see him again). "He--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Carl said. He slid over to her on his rolling stool and took hold of her arm. "Slow down, kid. Is everything okay?"
It was not! Punctuality was her pride. More importantly, for an internship with so prestigious an institution, it often meant the difference between full employment and no employment at all. "I just want you to know it will never happen again," she choked out. Was she really so close to tears?
Carl tried to hide his smirk behind his sandy beard. "Kimmy..." He patted her shoulder. "Do you know what I like about you, Kimmy?"
She pulled her glasses off and shook her head. She wiped the lenses on her moist blouse and promised herself she would not cry.
Carl's dark eyes twinkled. "You take this job very seriously."
She moaned. He was being sarcastic, wasn't he? "Please, sir, I promise I'll never--"
"Kimmy," Carl said, "just breathe, honey. Okay?" This time he couldn't hold back his chuckle. "Here, take a seat." He offered her the rolling stool next to him.
Reluctantly, she took it, and waited for the other shoe to drop.
Carl clasped his hands. "You are, without a doubt, the most intelligent young person to come through our halls in some time. Your research is impeccable, your conclusions are succinct, and you have a keen eye for detail. I have no doubt that you will someday be an excellent scientist. However--"
Her heart sank. Here it comes, she thought.
"You have a tendency to overthink, which is not uncommon in very intelligent people. Kimmy, I don't know if you've noticed this, but no one gets to the MI on time."
Kimmy glanced over the lab, and realized she and Carl were the only ones in the building. "N-no..." she murmured.
"Yeah," he said. "Kim, we're a bunch of SoCal scientists. We spend our mornings surfing, we take long lunches, and everybody pretends they can't smell pot in the backroom."
"Is that what that is?" she gasped.
"Who knows?" he said with a wink. "The point is, you've been coming in at seven AM on the dot for the last five months. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're definitely getting a spot here. Malcolm's due to retire and I'm taking over for the dive team. Once you graduate, this would be the perfect place for you to hone your talents. A year or two here and you can go on to any graduate school you want. What do you say?"
She was shocked. "But, but, I was--"
"Late? Kim, I don't care. Don't make a habit of it, but yeah, shit happens. I'm sorry if you broke up with your boyfriend."
"He said I wasn't fun."
Carl winced. "Well, uh..." Unsure how best to comfort her, he gently patted her shoulder. "Science is fun?"
Carl winced again. "I'm sure you'll meet someone who's a better match. Probably right here, to be honest. You know how many couples come out of the MI?"
"No?" she said.
Carl realized this was not a conversation he should pursue with the obviously frazzled Kimmy. "Say," he said, "I know how to cheer you up. We just got in the strangest thing I've ever seen. Malcolm and the boys brought it back last night during one of their deep dives." He hopped to his feet and motioned for her to follow him to quarantine. "We've got it in its own tank right now because, well, we have no idea what it is."
The mystery perked her up immediately. Kimmy followed Carl from the fluorescent lab into the dimmer aquarium beyond. Here, waxed linoleum gave way to wet concrete. The smells of sterile beakers dissolved into the briny depths of churning salt water. Aquarium boxes glowed a soothing blue, and shadows of little fish and eels and curious crabs swam around them. The foggy morning covered the aquarium in an aqueous gloom, with gray light pouring from the opaque skylights above.
Carl led Kimmy around the circular touch pool where the starfish and the anemones were kept. Kimmy giggled as a sea cucumber waved at her. It wasn't really waving, she knew; the filters in the tank gently circulated the water, and for some reason the cucumbers enjoyed perching directly below them. Out of habit, both she and Carl waved back. "Hey, Larry," Carl murmured.
He led her to the back of the aquarium and through the hanging plastic curtain that separated the quarantined animals. Here, new arrivals and sick residents were kept in isolation from the other creatures. After they were scanned for parasites and nurtured to full health the animals then joined the main aquarium, or were shipped to other facilities in California.
There were some animal lovers--and Kimmy knew a few--who balked at seeing animals in captivity. Even something as basic as a sea slug deserved freedom, they said. When Kimmy inevitably got into arguments with these people (some of whom were her friends), she tried to explain that places like the MI were created to study the natural world and cultivate better methods of caring for it. They weren't teaching crabs to jump through hoops or perform for screaming, popcorn-munching crowds, they were measuring the effects of ocean acidification on the formation of seashells, testing the viability of parasites that decimated plant and animal ecosystems, and often caring for wounded cetaceans and pinnipeds that washed ashore.
Kimmy also spent a good portion of her internship leading tours of the MI, which supplied the donations they needed to survive. It was on such a tour that her young heart was first enchanted by the sea. One of her most cherished memories was reaching into a frigid touch pool and brushing the skin of a nurse shark. She loved that sensation. Indeed, she loved the feel of most aquatic animals. Some loathed it, she knew. Their smooth, slimy bodies, which protected them from the corrosive salt water and enabled them to glide through the water like living liquid, could gross out full-grown adults. Not Kimmy. She'd grown up in the desert. She knew what it was to suffer chapped skin, to be so dry that your eyes hurt and your throat burned. Passing her hand into cool, clear water and running her fingertips along the creeping limbs of a starfish...even now, the thought sent a pleasant shiver up her spine.
"Here he is," Carl said, and swept his hand over the tank.
Kimmy gasped. When Carl said Malcolm found something, she assumed it was a fish. There were hundreds of fish species that haunted their coastal reefs and a hundred more sub-species waiting to be classified. She never imagined that Malcolm might discover something truly unique.
Kimmy pressed her palms to the glass and gazed at the bizarre creature inside. It twirled through the water, its graceful limbs like boneless fingers. It could easily be mistaken for an octopus. Its smooth, pulsating mantle, its eight wondrous tentacles, fit the basic profile. And when it sensed their presence, its skin shifted through a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors, which was also in keeping with octopi behavior. Yet there were subtle differences that Kimmy recognized. Its mantle (what most people would consider the creature's "head") was crowned with a ring of pseudopods, much like the eyes and antennae of snails. These wiggled independently of the creature's tentacles. Those tentacles, too, were unlike a normal cephalopod's. They were thicker, meatier, and when one of them slithered up the glass she saw that its suckers did not resemble shallow bowls. Instead, it was as if...
"Are those lips?" she gasped.
Behind her, Carl murmured assent. "Damnedest thing, isn't it? I mean, it looks like your average two-spot from far away--"
"--he's so much bigger, though," she said. She rubbed her fingertip against the glass, mimicking its own curious gesture.
"Yeah," Carl agreed. "Probably an eight foot wingspan."
The creature seemed to like her. Kimmy played a little game with it, moving to one side of the glass then the other. Each time, the mantle followed, pulsing with warm shades of candle yellow and pumpkin orange. Suddenly she gasped. "Its eyes..."
"I was waiting for you to say something," Carl said. "You noticed faster than we did."
Kimmy's heart pulsated in time with the animal's rippling skin. The structure of most cephalopod eyes was similar to those of humans (a beautiful example of either convergent or parallel evolution), though the pupils were usually horizontal as opposed to round. This creature's eye was a sparkling, iridescent blue. It was bluer than the sea on a sparkling afternoon, brighter than a sapphire. Its pupil was large and round. Stunningly large. It was like sharing the knowing gaze of a long and trusted friend.
That blue eye stared back at Kimmy--deep into Kimmy.
"Kawaii," she murmured against the glass.
"He's really something," Carl said.
It was painful to turn away from the creature. It fascinated her, and even seemed to be putting on a show with its technicolor skin. "You keep calling it a 'he,'" she said. "How can you tell?"
Carl grinned sheepishly. "I dunno. Doesn't it seem like it? The female cephalopods are usually more reserved, more shy. He's been checking out everybody that passes through here. Especially the girls."
Kimmy laughed. "Oh, is he a ladies' man?"
Carl shook his head. "I'm serious, Kim. With those big eyes of his it's like he's memorizing our faces."
"Well you know that's not uncommon for these guys," she said. "Octopi and cuttlefish have the highest brain-to-body mass ratios of any invertebrates. They learn quickly, they use tools, they have distinct personalities. That one two-spot used to squirt water at Malcolm whenever we had to clean his tank."
Carl nodded. "And he always made sure to get the tank nice and messy so he could squirt him again."
Kimmy glanced back at the creature. It had stuck two of its thick tentacles against the glass and was peering between them, like a child peeking through its fingers. If it was trying to make her giggle it was doing an excellent job.
"Don't encourage him," Carl said.
"I can't help it," she said. "He's adorable." She pulled the dive team's chart off the side of the tank and scanned the checklist. "He seems pretty healthy. Any major concerns?"
"Just where to put him," Carl said. "He's super alert, surprisingly even-tempered. Unfortunately, I think we may lose him to the big boys upstate."
Kimmy pouted. "Aww, they always take the good ones. Can't we keep him here?"
"We don't have the resources," he said. "Sad but true. Don't worry, though, you can play with him for as long as he--" Carl tilted his head. "You hear that?"
Kimmy listened. It was hard to make out over the bubbling of the filters but gradually she heard it. A dribbling, smattering, trickling of water. They searched for a quiet moment until Carl identified the sound. "A-ha!" he exclaimed. "Fucking typical..."
"What?" said Kimmy. She got down on her knees to join him. She peered under the new creature's tank. "It's leaking?"
"Speak of the devil and he will appear," Carl muttered. "You want to know why we can't have nice things? Cause our tanks are busted."
"I checked through them last month," she said. "I didn't find any cracks."
"Well, a lot of these tanks are past their expiration dates," Carl said glumly. "We've got a slightly smaller tank we can transfer our newbie to, but we gotta plug that leak first."
"I'll do it," she said. "Do you want to get the net?"
Carl chewed on his lip as he glanced at the creature. It continued to watch them through its tentacles, its skin flashing between turquoise and cyan blue. "I think it may be more than a two-person job. He's wily. Why don't I--"
The phone cut him off. With an embarrassed bow, Carl pulled it off his hip and turned away from Kimmy. "Huh?" he answered gruffly. As he paced to the other side of quarantine, Kimmy returned to the glass. The creature rolled a tentacle across the top of its tank, allowing her to trace the pale lips of its suckers with her fingertip. "You are so beautiful," she murmured.
To her surprise the creature flushed scarlet. Normally red was a warning color in the animal kingdom, but the gentle movement of its tentacles read less like a warning and more like an invitation. Its eye, too, shifted to an iridescent ruby. "Carl, did you see--" she started, but Carl was still on the phone.
Kimmy slid her palm down the tank. "Now, I know you can't understand me," she murmured, "but if you did... You know that would be super cool, right?"
The creature's mantle glittered like a neon sign: lavender bleeding into emerald bleeding into glowing magenta.
"Wow," Kimmy gasped. "Carl, I think--"
"Damn it!" he grunted into his palm. "Sorry, Kim, Dale just called from the highway. Fucking truck stalled out on him again. Tanks, trucks, it's everything today. Hold down the fort while I go give him a jump." He dashed to the plastic curtains with angry speed.
"Wait!" Kimmy called after him. "What about the octopus?"
"Just plug the hole!" he yelled over his shoulder. "You can make up for your tardiness, right? We'll get him into the tank when I get back!" The echoes of his footfalls quickly faded over the wet concrete.
That left Kimmy with a swiftly leaking tank and a mute audience of sick fish. "Well," she sighed, "here we go.”
Technically, the aquatic creature floating in the leaky tank was an unknown species of cephalopod. It looked like an octopus, but that didn't necessarily mean it was one. That didn't stop her from calling it that in her head, or aloud. "Don't worry, Octy," she muttered. "I might be a lame girlfriend but I know how to plug a hole."
She laughed at herself as she crawled under the tank. "Okay, that sounded dirtier than I meant it." Or did it? Despite her best efforts, Garrett was on her mind.
She didn't even like him that much. It was the way he broke up with her that was so infuriating. An anxious little song and dance about how she wasn't interesting in the bedroom, how he didn't want to ask her to do the things he wanted. As she stuck the penlight between her teeth and prepped the caulking gun, she mumbled angrily at the bottom of the tank. "Oh? Then how was I supposed to know what you wanted? Jackass..." The curse faded as her teeth chattered against the penlight. She was lying in a puddle of cold salt water, the back of her blouse now completely soaked through.
But you really couldn't beat the view. The octopus flattened itself against the bottom of the tank, giving her an incredible up-close look at its extraordinary anatomy. She gazed at the tiny beak in the center of its tentacles, the wondrous panorama of its eight limbs. And all those lips...
She waved at the creature with her caulking gun. "Don't mind me, Octy. Just winning an argument two hours too late." What had Garrett called her? A starfish? When they were in the bedroom she just lay beneath him and hardly moved. What else was she supposed to do? It was never fun for her. Usually Garrett would want to go at it when she was busy or when she'd just woken up. He didn't wait for her to brush her teeth, he didn't even wait for her to get wet. He just plowed through her like a freight train. If that's what sex was Kimmy could do without it.
"You're not fun," Garrett said. Well maybe he wasn't fun, what about that? She might be a boring nerd but she knew what she didn't like. It wasn't like she was a space alien. She had urges sometimes. Sometimes she even felt sexy. Rarely, but it did happen.
"Oh geez," she groaned. She finally saw the problem. Octy's tank had been patched before, and poorly. Like faded chewing gum on a theatre seat, old caulk clung to a jagged crack in the corner. She couldn't just add more caulk to that. The whole thing needed to be pulled out and replaced. "Well we don't have time for that," she murmured, "so let's do what we can." She'd pull out the old seal, jam a rag or something inside, then caulk that up and wait for Carl to get back. Hopefully he'd have Dale with him. Dale could fix anything.
"Except the truck," she grunted. She shimmied out from under the tank, balled up a used rag, and slid under the tank again. She took a deep breath, then yanked the crumbling seal.
She expected the sudden deluge of water. She didn't expect the octopus to come with it.
In retrospect, she should have. One of the many splendid qualities of the octopus is its ability to squeeze through the smallest of spaces. Without bones to get in the way, cephalopods can push their bodies through any opening big enough to accommodate their beaks. Since their beaks are a fraction of their overall mass, the little buggers can go pretty much wherever they want. Even a 600-pound octopus could squash itself through a hole the size of a quarter, if properly motivated. Octy was nowhere near that big, so he had no trouble rolling his tentacle through the crack.
"Oh!" Kimmy squeaked when the lip-like suckers kissed her hand. "Oh no, no, no!" she moaned as the second tentacle squeezed through the gap. "Octy, get back in your tank!"
The clever thing refused her suggestion. Instead it plugged the hole with its colorful body and let the force of the water help push it through. Three tentacles were already twining around Kimmy's wrist, the lips suckling at her skin.
There were no bones inside the clammy limb, just muscle with a purpose. Kimmy dared not pull away for fear of harming the precious animal, but she had to do something or it would escape. It was astonishingly common for octopi to break out of their tanks, and not just at the Marine Institute. If undetected, the poor creatures usually collapsed into sludgy piles after too long on the surface. Kimmy didn't want to expedite the process, but each time she pulled away more of the octopus squelched through the crack. "Octy!" she groaned.
And then all eight of its tentacles were oozing down her forearm. The suction in its lips was so intense that if she pulled a tentacle from her skin, her skin would come with it. Kimmy promised herself she wouldn't freak out. "Okay," she murmured. "This is...easier. Yes. This is easier actually. I'll just carry you with me and dunk you in another tank. Not gonna freak out."
The plan could have worked if Octy didn't have such a keen interest in Kimmy. His body flowed through the gap, and soon all eight feet of him was wrapped around her arm. He wasn't 600 pounds but he was far heavier than she imagined. When the wet, slithering muscle squeezed off her circulation, she lost her composure completely. She cried out, dropped her tools, and scurried from under the tank, the octopus along for the ride. Salt water gushed after them. It soaked her her toes as she tripped over her sandals and staggered to her feet.
"Okay," she huffed. "Okay, everything is cool. We're cool." Cautiously, she pressed her trembling palm against the pseudopods on his mantle. Gently, very gently, she began to push. "We're just...going to..."
Octy wrapped two fat tentacles around her waist and sealed himself over her breasts. Cold slime dribbled down her cleavage. "Or not," she squeaked.
Kimmy's heart palpitated with a queer mixture of fear and elation. The creature wasn't hurting her; in fact, the press of its soft, squishy skin was weirdly pleasant. But it certainly wasn't letting go, and if Carl found her this way she'd look like an incompetent jerk.
Salt water clung to her bare knees and the octopus sent a roving tentacle to suck at it with its lips. Despite her anxiety, Kimmy giggled. "Oh! That tickles!" Her laugh seemed to encourage the creature. The sucking tentacle slithered up her thigh, the lips searching for any remaining moisture. Two thick tentacles remained looped around her wrist, so with her free hand she tried to pry the mantle off her chest. "Please," she murmured, "you have to go back in your tank, you little creep..." The two tentacles squeezed harder around her wrist. It was like the clutch of a firm hand.
The tentacle sliding up her thigh poked at the hem of her shorts and rubbed at the place where the shorts met her skin. It sensed the difference in texture. "Smart guy," she murmured. The large eye on her chest gazed up at her and cycled from summer orange to cool violet. Trembling, she ran her palm down the mantle, as if the cephalopod was a delicate (and slimy) dog. To her surprise, it purred like a cat.
It wasn't quite a feline purr. It was a wetter sound, like bubbles blown in milk. Octy enjoyed being touched--another weird distinction from your typical octopus. "Yeah?" Kimmy cooed to it. She pet it again, making sure her rubs remained light and did not harm the creature's boneless body. Between her legs, a muscular tentacle did the same to her crotch.
"Whoa!" she yelped. A terrible thrill scorched its way up her tummy. "No, no, no, no," she laughed at the octopus. "Don't you get any funny ideas."
Octy purred again and gripped her even tighter. The lip suckers formed a line from her bellybutton to her butt. Then a sudden squeeze. "Oh!" she gasped. "Oh, dear."
Meanwhile, the other tentacle began to explore the open leg of her shorts. Kimmy tried to pull it off her thigh but its suckers were intractable. All she managed to do was get a handful of slime. She wiped it on her other leg as the tentacle flattened and slithered up her shorts. "Oooh," she groaned. What was more embarrassing, the fact that she was in this sticky mess or that its clammy lips actually aroused her?
It wasn't her fault! It was like dozens of wet mouths were kissing up her skin. Garrett's kisses had always been so awkward when he went down there. "Really, Kimmy?" she chided herself. She was getting groped by a mysterious sea creature and all she could think about was how gentle its kisses were. "Honestly!"
Two more tentacles felt their way up her neck. Kissing suckers flowed from her clavicle to her ears. "No, no!" she giggled. The thing was ridiculous! Every time she giggled the eye on her chest flashed a delicious honey yellow. She stroked its mantle. "Octy, you have to learn to keep your hands to yourself," she said. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"
In response, a tentacle uncoiled from her wrist and pulled at the hem of her shirt. "Hey!" she yelped. With surprising speed, the wet lips squirmed their way between her breasts. The indignity didn't stop there. As that tentacle explored the satin texture of her bra, another tugged her shorts down as far as her hips would allow. It was just playing with her clothes, she told herself. Cephalopods were famous for their puzzle-solving. This handsy fella just wanted to know how to get her clothes off. He probably thought he'd get a treat out of it.
"I'll give you something good if you go back in your tank," she promised. Not that he could understand her, obviously. Even if he could he was too wrapped up (literally!) in prodding her earlobes.
Kimmy's earlobes seemed to fascinate the creature. The tips of his tentacles caressed them with such tentative strokes. It stirred in her something more than a tickle. Unfortunately, and to Kimmy's great embarrassment, her earlobes had always been major erogenous zones. The whole reason she started dating Garrett was because of the way he blew on them on their first date. Combined with the invasive squish between her breasts, the steady pressure on her crotch, and the tentacle still worming its way up her shorts, she suddenly felt quite hot. "Oh," she moaned.
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