Description: Agatha, a sorceress, has figured out how to conjure an inter-dimensional glory hole and enjoys the variety of monster dicks that come through. On one particular night, she is visited by a tentacle which treats her to an unexpected ending.
Who Knows, Who Cares?
There really should have been a warning provided about how addictive the spell would be. It was rare that an evening went by where Agatha didn't activate the portal in all its brightly glowing, pink glory. The position of the other side was random among countless dimensions, its runes designed to be translated for whatever horny beast it appeared before. A hole with unmistakable purpose.
Agatha had made herself comfortable, propped up against her multitude of pillows as she lay in bed pumping a thick toy deep into her cunt. She had learned to loosen herself up a bit before summoning; there was no telling the size of what came through.
The towel Agatha had laid out beneath her was already slightly messy with lube. Wet, filthy noises mingled with her moans, her pussy squeezing around the toy. It was far from enough; she needed the feeling of some faceless creature's cock throbbing inside her. The heat. The cum. The knowledge that whoever was on the other side only cared about getting themself off. A kind lover was great, but sometimes she craved to just be fucking used.
Needy and whimpering, Agatha used her free hand to trace the spell's sigil in the air. Her room was bathed in magenta light, flaring as the circle came into existence on the mattress between her spread thighs. She waited a few moments as she continued to fuck herself and bite her lower lip with impatience.
"Please...please...anyone," she begged, sweat glistening in the garish glow.
There was movement at the center of the circle. Agatha watched as a light blue, shimmering, translucent tentacle slowly began to emerge. It was long, lined with shallow ridges starting at the tip which faded to smoothness about eight inches down. She could see thin, faintly glowing purple veins just beneath the fleshy surface, pulsating rhythmically with the creature's heartbeat.
Agatha softly gasped, removing the toy from herself and tossing it aside.
"Hello, gorgeous," she said.
The tentacle felt out her foot, traced her ankle, and began caressing its way up her calf. She trembled as it slid over her thigh and trailed slime. It explored boldly, working inward until it found her pussy. The tip ran up and down the wet, twitching line of it, teasing her folds and making her achingly empty hole quiver.
"There it is," she encouraged, though she knew she went unheard. "Mmm, there you go."
Agatha expected to be swiftly filled as was typical of tentacles. She was used to such roughly-pumping appendages. For one to finish only for another to come through circle. Sometimes leading to being stretched around a deeply writhing mass of multiple; always leading to ending up leaking cum.
