Gunner Girl Kiwa

So the gun, great investment.

Kiwa opened her eyes, dirt flaking off her eyelashes and forehead as she slowly came to. The gunner lifted her head, skull still throbbing from the impact of the cave-in and the thunderous roar echoing endlessly in the distance. Only a few ladders remained, miles out of reach, jagged and crooked along broken wooden ramparts and crumbing mine pillars.

But much of the damage the cave-in could do was over.

Everything that had been built in the middle; the catwalks, the bridges, the suspended mining equipment and furnaces, they'd been torn down. Dropped right into a deeper abyss. Everything on the sides however, they'd been shuffled ten or twenty yards down from where they once were. Mud and muck coating everything that the dust and ash missed. Any stable tunnels left had to have been packed. Passageways filled. No point in using the man-made methods to get out now. All that was left to do was climb.

Kiwa warmed under the golden rays touching her sore body. Low sunny light beamed down from the single, lone opening above. The entrance to the mine had fallen in, not surprising, and with it made a great gaping hole that was absolutely breathtaking. From that hole, she saw the clear blue sky, the rescue crews gathering and Flown's tallest tower, its white stone glimmering in the morning sun.

In a bit of a reverie, Kiwa enjoyed the view.

Happy to stare and stare, gratitude and gratefulness of, well, just being alive filling her core. Right up until she remembered that she still had to climb all that dirt and rock if she ever wanted to catch a rescue crew's attention. After all, they were probably guild-owned bitches. They'll leave people behind so monsters could eat and toughen up.

Yup, she was getting her shitty attitude back. Thank the spirits!

Kiwa glanced down, found herself hanging from the underside of a broken ladder. All her limbs still intact. Nice. She quickly patted the parts she could reach, checking herself for any major wounds. A couple of open cuts. A purple-ling knee. And bruises galore. She looked like she laid in the road and let a herd of cows and cattle dance and strut their fat asses right over her.

Thank goodness, they had potions for this.

Not wasting time, she dug through her nearest pocket and used one of her spares. Bitter and lime-green, she gulped it down. The effect was instantaneous. Green light glowed from Kiwa's light-brown skin, magically stitching together the wounds and healing the bruises. It didn't do a thing for her knee, though. Needed a specialty potion for ligaments and muscle. One of those red ones she'd been to cheap to buy.

Whelp, as long as she didn't lean on it much, she'd be fine.

Now to deal with the bigger issue. How would she get down? Kiwa stared a little. It didn't look easy.

Kiwa's over-the-shoulder gun holster dangled from a crooked, hook-like bar. The bent bar didn't seem like much and yet it was strong enough to hold her small frame and a gun that was three times bigger than her size. Horizontally, anyways.

Rune Matchsticks were all about spray-damage and long-distance fire. They were long and erect weapons, trading accuracy for shell count and range. Generally useless in Kiwa's line of work. Gunners like herself couldn't afford to be spending so much on shells. Besides, dragging around this tyrant was already taking a toll on her body. Grenadiers, maybe. Glphygear users, probably.

At least, the gun was pretty.

But besides all of that, it was fine. Well, he was fine. Kiwa had a habit of using male pronouns for her guns. Made them easier to get used to.

He, the Rune Matchstick order 88, otherwise known as RM-88, was alright. Dust coated his ass, graying up his long silver barrel and the twin mini-guns that sat below his shaft. Slowly growing warm from the sunlight and the tight space between her legs, his metal made a pleasant heat against her lower hips. A place where he shouldn't be if the gun holster worked probably.

But that was her fault by observing tradition where it didn't counted.

Gun models like RM-88, a combination of terrain-mobile shell-guzzlers and heavy artillery, were often pointed to the floor as a curtsy when not in use. Before the whole mine job went to shit, she should have taken RM-88 out. Let him have a chance to strut his stuff before writing him off the same as she did her revolver. Nothing but a flashy showpiece for the adventurers and her fake friends to fawn over. Like they knew a damn thing about guns.

Now he swung between her legs like a cock.The tip glinting bright like it already fired and was prime to fire again. Kiwa rotated her hips slowly, trying to readjust him and boy, the gun didn't like that. Using her ass as a counterweight, RM-88 canted straight up between her hips, his big steel shaft flush against her inner thighs and flatly pressed into her shorts.

Kiwa's breath hitched, surprised by the erotic flat slap he made against her privates.

A sensation so good it made her pause. Then she was surprised again by how she deliberately bucked her hips. Making him do it again. Kiwa took a sharp intake of air. Still good. Enthralling, even. The slap. The gun between her legs. Not a fluke, it seemed. That brief bit of pleasure. The sound of the slap bounced off the nearby walls and dirt mounds. Shit, it sounded almost like the real thing. Fleshy. Filthy. A meaty cock full of girth and power.

Hell, RM-88 might be better than the real thing. He didn't need anytime to recover between loads.

He was so long and thick that he easily cocked open her legs. His great shaft not just rubbing up against her pussy and sensitive thighs but also her rear-end and slim cheeks. In just one shallow thrust, he had her. All of her.

Kiwa's lips fell open, a half-smothered murmur echoed to her ears. It took her a second to recognize her own voice. Sweet and low and all sorts of breathy. Already turned on and ready to play. Her ass-cheeks parted on the warm metal, skin glistening and dripping with dewy perspiration. The sweat drops made it easy for her hump, the friction slowly becoming smooth and swift.

She tried to think of a thousand professional reason why she was more or less giving a thigh-job to an cock-like gun but couldn't think of any that didn't involve casual horniness.

And for the record, Kiwa didn't usually ride her guns.

This was a special situation that required special care. And if she got an orgasm or two out of the deal, who'd blame her?

The holster, jostled from her actions, reasserted itself on her poor shoulders.

The straps already been tangled, how else could it hang from the ladder, but now it sagged further down her back. Runing the fragile balance she was working with. Kiwa twisted to catch it but it was too late. Clawing all the while, the straps fell off her her shoulders and looped around her lower arms. Red angry lines marked up her brown skin under the dark green cords. Tugged backwards, Kiwa's arms were tied together and bent back.

Gripped into place, she struggled and kicked but there was little Kiwa could do without outright dislocating her arms to escape. Her forearms ached a bit. But there wasn't much she could do about that now. Finding the holster latches was the only way out of this and that was going to be hard without the range she once had with her arms

Using her bound hands, Kiwa groped blindly for the latches to free RM-88 from the holster. Her fingers wandered the steel girth of the gun. Brushing up against the hilt marks lining the ridged barrel, each notch bumpy and fat.

Her fingertips slid along the steel, stroking the metal surface as she struggled.

Every notch she touched, hard and rigid, Kiwa licked her lips. Amused by how kinky her actions were becoming. In a certain light, a gun was rather phallic. Angular. Hard. Ready to blow at a single touch. Kiwa was still looking for the latches. Looking hard as she stroked the thick barrel and rocked her hips back. But it was becoming apparent that they were on the other side of the gun.

If she could tilt the holster straps under the gun just right, she could unlatch it that way. But that would require a little more finesse that what she was doing already. Time to take up a step.

The RM-88 bobbed between Kiwa's lower hips, canting up in a jerky, clumsy motion.

Kiwa panted softly, feeling the front of her mini-shorts grow damp from the sweet stimulation. The thong she was wearing wasn't meant to absorb as much female arousal as she was making. Her sweet juices seeped through, staining the seat and lubed the shaft.

The smell of her sex was in the air, heedy and fertile, it overtook the lingering odor of oil and metal.

Her legs swayed along. Thighs parting as the sight scope on the lower end of the gun pushed upwards. With each bob, the scope pushed itself in, rising up and higher. Kiwa gasped, her hips shuddering at the intrusive touch. RM-88 touched her plain and simple, the sight scope crashing and caressing against her lower lips. The surrounding ridges around the scope, the branding of the gun's model, hooked against her shorts' zipper.

Kiwa tried to stop her motion but it was too late.

The ridges and the sight scope caught onto the zipper's tab. Kiwa rotated her hips to the left, trying to knock the entanglement loose. The sight scope held fast, yanking down the zipper's teeth and exposed her paler skin, unmarred by the tan she gained scouting as a gunner on the field. Brown skin met lighter skin, tan-lines dividing her upper thighs and waist in pale tawny streaks.

Her panties, a black thong, was displayed, bared to her lust-filled eyes. At any other time, this would have been an annoyance. But Kiwa reveled in the sound and the teasing way her mini-shorts gave in. Soaked, her thong clung to her pussy, growing more and more transparent as Kiwa switched into bucking.

RM-88's janky thrusts became vicious, pounding and slapping against her.

Her thighs reddened. Light bruises decorated her hips. Her ass, taking most of the force, bobbed behind her, flesh trembling under the onslaught. Uselessly, her feet thrashed in the air. Twitching and sensually-tortured as she rode her gun-steed.

"Oh fuck," She huffed, considering her options. "Fuck it all. I didn't ask to be here."

If Kiwa's kept her actions up, she would definitely wind up cumming on her gun. And as pretty RM-88 was, she did have to think about the re-selling issue. He was a liability and the job was a bust. Girl has to eat somehow. Maybe if she re-arranged her arms, she could stop the scope from gaining any more ground.

The strap around the gun was sliding down. Slowly but surely. Kiwa could outright unlatch the holster with a single good shake.

But RM-88 was finally at the right angle where her shoulders didn't hurt. Her arms were still bound, the straps firmly pressing in but it gave a pleasant ache to her arms. Hell, there was even something fun in being tied up like this. Restrained, she had little movement. Her arms twitched and throbbed, flailing uselessly against their hold. Sure, her legs were free but as short as she was, they couldn't reach any foot-hold that she could relax her body against.

Staying still was an option. A dumb one.

Her gun would keep on working her privates whether she intervened or not. Angled up because of her position on the lower end of the barrel. Her ass the perfect counterweight to keep it working her pussy. Her mini-shorts only a thin barrier, Kiwa mapped every notch and ridge RM-88 had to spare. Her drenched and needy little hole clinching and squeezing to drive more jolts of hot thrilling buzz to her core.

If RM-88 had been a real cock, there would be no question about it.

She'd spread her legs and bend right over. Might even fall right on it if he took too long putting it in. Kiwa slumped forward, her body shivering and shaking from the frenzy of pleasure roused from RM-88. It had been a while since she enjoyed herself. Too busy working job requests and refining her gun-craft skills.

The back of her mini-shorts bunched under her hips, tugging and stretching the fabric as it gathered under her ass. Her thong, vulnerable and displayed in the open air, was besieged by the sight scope. Its tip brushed plainly against her skimpy strip of a panty, the metal prodding her swollen clit and folds.

Kiwa shivered in anticipation, the hum of her impending orgasm growing closer and closer in the back of her mind. She tightened her legs, encouraged the gun to piston faster between them. Her voice became louder. Moans ran free, a harmony of want and need. With another swing of her hips, the thong was pushed aside. Kiwa hesitated then, leaning forward while keeping her eager entrance from touching the steel shaft.

What was she doing?

Getting her freak on because of the need to have 'I'm lucky I'm still alive' sex. kicking in? That had to be what was happening. This was her gun. A simple weapon she'd paid a good four hundred aulrians for. Not a dildo to be grinding her silly ass on. He wished that she would treat him so well.

Then again, she did pay for it. Kiwa was free to use it in anyway she liked. The gun worked better as a cock anyways.

Like nature intended, her clit met shaft. Big metal shaft to be exact. Kiwa erupted into breathy, heavy cries. Hearing herself now, blatant and crude, it fueled her carnal desire. The gun was teasing her, getting her all hot and ready. She wanted something hard and erect in her and she wanted it now. Kiwa's hips picked up speed, RM-88 now slicker and thickly lubed as her essence ran down the barrel.

Squelches and squishing noise met her ears, making the tips burn as the sound echoed around the formerly quiet mine.

Engorged, her hot-red clit greeted and fucked every bumpy nub it could reach. Kiwa's pussy rubbed against the sight scope, trying to somehow get the tip inside. But circular and wide as it was, it couldn't make it pass her folds. Kiwa grunted in distaste, bucking her hips in every which was she could get the scope inside. But all her struggling was for naught.

The holster's straps slacked from their hold on her shoulders and fell to her palms. She was just about freed. Kiwa huffed, clamped her hips around the gun to keep it where it belong.

She wasn't finished. Not yet.

Pleasure spread like sticky honey, inescapable and all-consuming and sweet to take in.

Before she came, Kiwa's mind went blank. She was a thing of sensation and ecstasy. Kiwa wasn't a loud lover. Not before this. She screamed as she cummed, the sound a cry of absolute bliss. From her hips, to her thighs, to her legs, feet curling inside her boots, to pulsing veins and everything else, a indescribable intensity ricocheted through her love-battered frame.

For thirty twitchy seconds, Kiwa was gone. Silent other than the sound of her deep breaths spilling into the air as she gulped desperately for oxygen.

With a final unconscious jerk of her hips, the holster unclasped and RM-88 dropped, saturated in her sweet juices.

Kiwa followed right after, meeting the ground in a reflex-aided tuck and roll. Her knee flared and she winced, groaning at the sudden pain following her climax. She managed a few wobbly steps and collapsed, her legs as limp as noodles.

She laid on her belly, afterglow already on its way.

But Kiwa wasn't particularly happy with how things ended. Her pussy throbbed, wanting something in it and Kiwa wasn't going to use her fingers to sate it. Kiwa decided to pay attention to something else. The wet sensation of her thong and mini-shorts was getting on her nerves so she lowered them, baring her lean ass and glistening pussy to the mine space.

If anyone had anything to say about her bottom nakedness, rescue crews or otherwise, she'll call them a pervert and that would be the end of that. The sunlight felt good on her bottom, drying the juices that were there.

Kiwa could have gone straight to sleep. Almost did if it wasn't for that gentle metal nudge to her soft tush.

Startled, she turned her head and gawked at what she saw. RM-88 moved. Somehow, he dragged himself over to her and was swiping softly at her wet hole. Kiwa looked behind him, trying to spot another person or a bit of magic that made him move. No. It was just him. Shinier and glossy in her lewd essence, he glimmered in the light.

"Stop." She said, frowning. Guns weren't supposed to be able to up and move on their own. Not without their gunner's permission of course. And she hadn't mastered the associated gun-craft for it anyways. So this was weird. Stupid weird even.

RM-88 obeyed. He rested his large shaft on the middle of her back. The barrel pulsating, no, vibrating, on the inside. Kiwa gave him another glance, slower this time. He did look more shinier. The texture of her sweet juices seemed different in the light also.

"Whatever you are," Kiwa stated, bored, "you do know you can't kill a gunner with their own gun?"

RM-88 or whoever was using the gun didn't respond.

"It's common knowledge, dumbass. I slapped my seal on that Rune Matchstick the moment I got it. The bullets won't kill me. The metal won't smash me to death. I don't even need to be physically touching the trigger to make it fire. So you better think again about attacking me."

RM-88 only vibrated. Waiting for her next word, she guessed.

Okay. No hostile intent then.

Kiwa thought about that barrel, that thick shaft working her body and her mouth opened before she could think it though.

"But if you wanna like-" she said through red cheeks, "fuck me in it. I'd be okay with that."

RM-88 apparently liked the sound of that. He went to work, stroking her pussy folds with the rim of the barrel. Kiwa exhaled in a huff, spreading her legs further as she leaned on her arms. She pushed her hips up, pressing her pussy and ass for his full inspection. The gun rubbed between all her trim curves, sliding between her lean ass-cheeks and lower lips at a frustratingly slow speed.

"I said fuck," she stuttered, "not fool around with my-" RM-88 pushed hard against her hole, stretching out the inner muscle. Her hips writhed, pushing back for more. His barrel rim played with her entrance, the metal slurping against her wet folds and nudging her tender flesh into parting for his great length.

Kiwa squealed, the noise exploding out of her. She tried to cover her mouth. Shut that nonsense down. That whole thing earlier with her shouting her lungs out was a fluke. The way she was acting now, frantic and needy, needed to stop.

This wasn't her first time receiving a good time between her legs but spirits, it felt better than all of them.

With no actual tongue or fingers, RM-88 was a damn savant at eating her out.

Unable to concentrate to keep her hands steady, Kiwa's voice slipped through. In bits and spurts, her horny howls escaped. What didn't come out as a poorly-stilted cry was saliva, drooling free down her swollen lips.

Kiwa looked over her shoulder, unbelievably turned on by that damn big gun working her pussy. Fun stuff but not was she wanted. Kiwa pushed back, trapping that glorious gun-cock between her hips. He struggled lightly, his barrel not exactly lined up with her hole but she could work with that. She pressed against his rounded ridges, reeling each curve and bump slide against her entrance.

"You do know who's in control of this show, right?" she purred, squeezing her thighs even more. RM-88 vibrated harder, tremors running up and down his steel form. "Look who likes that. Such a good, good gun you are." The gun slid back, his upper end and the rim of the barrel now in fucking range. "You can put it in now. Your owner is feeling generous today."

The tip of the barrel touched her hole and she felt some of her sweet juice run inside. Kiwa closer her eyes, bracing herself for what had to be the first thrust in. The tip swiped against her clit instead, coaxing out more of her sweet juices then went right back to it, sliding through her cheeks.