Party Girl General #3 [Outercourse][Futa][This is all futa.]

The Party Girl has a problem. A big one, and it's resting right 'tween her legs.

	Though her history may remain hidden - and it's hard to imagine a fair childhood when you've got a military-grade wet noodle ready with you at all times - she continues being all peppy and happy. A little too happy, perhaps. Bouncing with an extra bounce to her step would be a grave understatement. Where did she come from? Where will she go? Where did you come from, Horse-cocked Girl?
	Nevertheless, you managed to pioneer a new creation with the mechanic - An enormous 'sucking' device, supposedly made for 'extracting ichor efficiently'. It would be used for something less disgusting yet all the more scandalous. Its insides were lined with water and ingress proofed silk, padded with silicone and with a perfectly fitted collection cup at the very tip, positioned precisely where the Party Girl's urethra would be. Hopefully, one can make a watertight seal with an equine urethra pressed against an O-ring. And if it didn't, it could provide powerful suction to collect all liquid. It whirred with electromechanical energy, its lightweight, aged copper aluminum construction with non-corrosive brass fittings making it weight only about a kilo or two, glass jar included. Hefty, but powerful. You're sure the Party Girl will be able to lift it hands-free just fine. She should - after all, it's designed with her exact measurements in mind. Even then, it could get considerably heavier with use.

	It's fortunate that you have nearly finished building the Party Girl's abode. You have moved away from your original plans of some kind of restaurant, and instead built a bakery. It was only two stories tall - with room to spare on the second floor - but it had an extensive basement. Inspiration struck, and you have decorated the roof with all those sweets and candy canes pilfered from countless invasions. The gingerbread man would be in awe.
	You could easily just 'neglect' your new device in the Party Girl's personal room, hidden in a closet. You have no idea if you could just... ask her. Or collect your fill yourself. With the device, of course. One can barely imagine the feat being possible otherwise.

	Either way, the construction would be finished by tomorrow. All you have to do is paint one room, furnish it and you're done. You'll deposit the 'Super Speedy Party Squeezy 6000' in the Party Girl's new room tomorrow. You go to sleep with great expectations of time to come.

	You awaken in the middle of the night with a start. You would've screamed hadn't it been for the sound of... soft breathing. You cautiously look down at a strange warmth spreading through your inner thighs and... holy shit.
	There she is, in a cute night gown - braless - and a pair of boxers with hears, unbuttoned and slightly pulled down by the sheer girth of her equine blessing. It could barely hold up the weight of her huge balls and horsecock at once, and she had to hold the latter up to keep it from ramming into your bed covers. In fact, she held it against your underside, or rather, you felt the tip poking at your inner thighs, threatening to force them apart. Did she miss? Does she not know how this works? Can she even see a damn in this darkness? Who knows.
	You laid down on your side, legs together and pulled up at a semi-fetal position - you really should get a bed that isn't from the depths of Hell and threatens to tickle your feet if you stretch out too far - with nothing but a skimpy shirt and somewhat boyish, wide shorts covering you up. It was hot here, and you frequently slept even without bedcover, which came as a disadvantage now that you feel the tip of a rubber, half-mast flare poking against your legs.
	You can't make out much in the darkness other than the bobbing pink haze of the Party Girl's - what was her name, even? You never asked - hair and her hot hands squeezing your bare thigh, breathing softly through her mouth like in a moonwalking daze. You don't move an inch, only keeping an eye on the girl with one half-lidded eye, but otherwise not betraying your wakefulness in anything but the gentlest nuzzle into your pillow.
	Which was a hard task, of course, since soon enough, one of the Party Girl's hands moves to the side and squeezes your firm adventurer's ass, provoking the slightest of gasps from you, one which you manage to muffle enough that the Party Girl doesn't notice in the slightest. She kneads at your buttock, caressing and lightly patting at it before heading south to your other half, brushing it as her other hand helps her prodding horsecock by holding your leg up. The flare gained entry, finally slipping forward and brushing against the surface of your shorts. You feel it pushing into you just the slightest bit - and you can't stop yourself from biting at your lip, nearly moaning out loud - before it slips past, moving further forward and... slipping underneath your shirt. You suddenly feel a lot smaller in your clothes.
	That huge flare easily slides under your shirt, tenting it outwards and leaving scarcely any room for yourself. In fact, the fabric grinds against the head as it pushes into your navel, the red rubber stretching and skidding against your bare skin as you feel the cock with more and more skin. You can feel just how hot the thing is, you can even feel each of the Party Girl's heart beats as the equine monster's quaking throbs. You can't stop your toes from curling, muffling your silent moan in the pillow as the cockhead touches the underside of your breasts - and the Party Girl still has more length to go. How fucking big even is she? It's good that you made that cock milking device, because you doubt anything else could even contain that thing. Except for the Stylist, of course. What a slut.
	You feel a bump against your - now definitely - drooling pussy as the Party Girl's medial ring brushes brutishly past your crotch - and then you finally feel the Party Girl running out of room, as well as her stretched, leathery prepuce between your far-apart legs. And far apart they were to accommodate the sheer girth that the bubbly girl possessed. You knew how wide it was, but to feel it up close was an entirely different matter. Six to seven inches wide was the number, but again, to feel it... Entirely different, believe me. It's like reading about the amount of health that hardcore moonman has and actually fighting him. It's 'oh yeah I can do that' compared to 'how long is this gonna take does it even have and end'. And that's the current experience.

	Soon, though, the Party Girl retracts the entire length - leaving you feeling quite lonely and with a stretched shirt - before, to your surprise, she rams back in. You grind your teeth together as you feel that entire length push against your moist shorts, then your underbelly, then your navel, then bumping against your cleavage, then the whole thing over again. You're gushing, damnit, and the Party Girl's hands scooping up your butt and squeezing your ankle, respectively, don't help at all.
	Then you hear the Party Girl... giggling. Kind of creepy. She tries to keep the giggling to herself, and you feel her shaft trembling a little, but she seems to be getting louder and... twitchier. Not in that way. What, did she suddenly get the gigglies now that she knelt here, using your body as if it were her tab- Oh... Oh no, the bed.
	You feel her shift closer, her enormous flare now bulldozing inbetween your breasts and her knees pushing into your lower thigh as she tried to get closer, to escape the bed. Every time that the bed felt someone on top of it, after approximately five minutes, several slithery snake-like obsidian appendages would pop up from its front and assault any pair of feet or hands or anything it could get its... tentacles on. It made sleeping on it a chore, constrained only to one tight position away from the bed's sides. But you were always too lazy to get a better bed that wasn't from fucking Hell itself. You're definitely getting a new one after this... or not, as you feel the Party Girl thrashing around, legs desperately trying to escape the probing tentacles. But it was all for naught. Perhaps this could make a fair defensive mechanism.

	The Party Girl couldn't stop herself from snorting and guffawing at the tickling - but she hadn't stopped thrusting against your belly, oh no - and she could no longer keep it in. She leans in, shifting her body hear and there to get in a better position but finding none and, before she gets loud enough to alert anyone, namely you, of her antics, she opts to plug her mouth up. To your surprise, however, it's with your own foot. She bends your top leg by the knee and leans to the side, stuffing it between her lips. You can feel her teeth bite down very lightly - thankfully, you wear fresh socks to bed, otherwise she might've choked to death - on the fabric, as well as the convulsions of her lips and throat as she fights back any giggles. It doesn't slow down her hips any, though, and in this position, you can occasionally feel a pair of huge, hot masses slap and stick against your lower thigh. Wonder what those could be.
	Soon enough, while holding your pillow tightly as to not bang yourself against the backboard, you feel a completely different type of tremble from the girl. You feel her enormous cock twitch harder and harder against your slick skin - slick with your own juices, rubbed along the entire length of that condom as it came into contact with your moist shorts. Her giggles are replaced with half-moans, and you feel her nibble and suck on your foot as her movements become harsher, stronger, more animalistic. You bite down your own orgasm, as to avoid detection, and wait for her to thrust one more final time - punching the underside of your tits and parking resolutely in your cleavage, prepuce firmly planted inbetween your thighs and resting against your gushing pussy. The huge flare obscures most of your vision, and you stare it down and its winking, stupidly wide urethra through the extra thick rubber. You can't help yourself from squeezing the sheath inbetween your legs and, in that moment, you feel those two enormous masses - now very evidently the Party Girl's oversized equine testicles - jump and seize, pumping a viscous substance through internal piping fit for a king's throne.
	Three enormous, heart pumping throbs, and you could feel rope upon rope of dense Party Girl cum shooze - something between shoot and ooze - up her enormous length, the entire thing trembling terribly as it deposited glob upon enormous glob into the double extra super thick part of the girl's condom. You could feel the rubber lip stretch and slip between your legs, slowly unfurling down the Party Girl's length as copious amounts of cum were forced into the tip. It'll obviously be enough to contain all that sweet stuff, but still - danger, change of major leakage.
	Now that the Party Girl is in the midst of her own peak, you allow yourself one as well. You grunt and moan into the pillow, loud yet still not as loud as the Party Girl herself. You feel your pussy clench almost painfully and drench the Party Girl's prepuce and balls in a few little streams of your femcum. Were she not there, you're pretty sure you would've hit the ceiling. Strangely enough, you were never a spurter. You grind yourself into the side of her cock, feeling rope upon rope of her powerful cum rocket up her shaft as your sublimely ride it.
	There's some lesson with Archimedes' principle to be learned here as you feel and see liters of hot, heavy sperm deposited through the top of your shirt and bulging onto the bed. It stretched your shirt even further, - a wonder that it hadn't ripped yet, not to mention the condom itself - and put pressure on your lower breast, and you can feel the heat emanating from it on your face. Hezzo Christo. So close, yet so far.
	Far behind, drooling and biting down on your toe, you feel the party Girl trembling against your legs, hands squeezing whatever flesh they happened to be holding when she climaxed. She still keeps thrusting into you lightly, but only enough to jar the liquid being dumped under your chin. And she keeps bucking for a good half minute before she's spent, her cock apparently heaving even as very little was left to travel through its length. Even then, over a good liter of Party Girl semen got released in the condom, rolling and heaving with her every movement.
	Problem is, it's lodged in the top of your shirt, and the Party Girl soon realized that. Even through the dim lightning, you can see the expression of pure terror on her face as she desperately tries to pull through your shirt without forcing you awake. It's kind of cute, actually. Her mouth releases your foot with a *plop*, little bits of drool hanging off her lips as she leaves your sock sodden and grits her teeth, trying to think of a way, anything, to not spill all that cum onto you. Stealthily.
	The Party Girl looks around your dark room, seemingly having forgotten that she wouldn't be able to get anything off the bed anyway, then she sighs and leans in. Resolute in her decision, she pulls back her cock while squeezing all the cum into the condom's tip, then she ties a solid knot - an pullable knot, interestingly enough. Is she going to use this later? - with plenty of room to spare. But, to her utter horror, you lean in and rest your head on the very hot water-pillow. You hear her whisper a strained "oh no".

	The last of her horsecock slides out of the condom and lands on the bed - the fabric even bends under its weight, seriously - as she stays perfectly still for a while, considering her options. You creak one eye open to spy on her, and you see the most delicious, incredibly nervous expression on her face. She's very lucid, that's for sure. At least now she is. Delightful, and at least a bit cute. Then she seems to come up with an idea. She steps off the bed, tiptoeing to one of your tables. She must've spotted something on it earlier - your decorative gift string, actually, and you hear her scribbling something on a paper before she tiptoes back to the bed, her huge, still mostly hard horsecock dangling between her legs. She leans over you and ties the sparkly string around the knot, adding a little paper with something handwritten in beautiful cursive. You can't quite make it out in the dark, though you do spot the glint of her whites as she leans back, arms akimbo and a little too satisfied with her crude work. Definitely cute.
	The Party Girl observes you for a few more moments, making sure you're sound asleep before nodding to herself and tiptoing out of the room, her gigantic horsecock dangling somewhat noisily between her legs and dribbling a line of cum over your carpet before disappearing behind a corner. Messy.

	You wake up late, hugging the heavy condom. It's still hot. You wink out the eyedust, then read the note.
"Liquid sugar!" and a little cheery smiley, complete with the Party Girl's signature hair and a blush.