Unsweet Baphomet (one-shot)

I shuddered with pleasure as I thrust myself into her uncaring body. She lay on her stomach, her head and arms hanging over her edge of the sofa, absent-mindedly nibbling on crackers as I hammered her prone body. She paid me absolutely no attention even as my hips slammed into hers faster and faster. Her unreacting folds throttled me as softly as they always had as I groaned into her ear. I fell onto her back, panting with exhaustion, as the commercial came to an end. I had lasted for about a hundred seconds.

She'd always been like this, ever since we first did it. You'd think a dead fish like her would get boring in a hurry, but it never had. It wasn't just that it felt so good - I mean, I could imagine nothing better - or that she was some wet dream come true. She'd grown tall in the ten years since I first managed to stammer out a confession, but she never developed a mature body. With her modest bust, hardly any waist, and thin hips, she was hardly particularly attractive, but I did love her. I always had.

I loved her poker face. I'd attack her, tickling, licking, kissing her all over just to make her react. Someone else couldn't tell, I'm sure, but I always could. She'd ram her gently curving horns back into the sofa, and I'd have my satisfaction. I loved cooking with her. Her gentle scent would mix with the food. It was like an angel had descended into the room: the sunlight glimmering in her curly brown hair, her cloven hooves clattering on the wooden floor. I would wrap my arms around her waist and sniff her between her horns as she chopped the vegetables.



It was obvious that something was wrong when I climbed off her back, flipping her knee-length skirt back over her flat butt and thighs. Usually she comparatively beamed after sex, arching her back, suspended on her elbows, but not now. I was barely off her when she began to sob silently. Her horns drooped below her shoulders, twitching slightly with every sob. I circled around to face her, only for her to barely whisper: "What am I to you? Just a fuckhole...?"

She seemed to sense me approach, but wouldn't face me. "Why do you even stay with me? I'm not hot, I'm not nice, there's no way you're happy with me!" That was a shock. I'd thought it was obvious how I felt about her. I just knelt by her and tried to stroke her hair. "Stop it! You always give up when you try to cuddle me! You never get anything out of me! The only thing you care about is sex!" I'd never realized she didn't know I could see through her.

The tears wouldn't stop. I had to wrangle her to get her upright on the sofa, and moments later she fell over onto me. I reeled from the impact of her horns on my forehead, and I came to to find her crossed pupils suddenly staring me in the face through a sheet of tears. I fought to pull my right arm free from below her, and then to snake it along the backrest to wrap both around her. She gave a soft bleat as I finally managed to hug her.



"I love you!" I pulled her into me hard enough and suddenly enough to whiplash her horns back into my forehead. "I've always loved you!" Her eyes watered and I nuzzled my nose against hers. I let her settle into me before I continued: "I always know when you feel it..." I almost whispered it, gazing into her rapidly reddening eyes. Why wouldn't I? I'd been looking at her for 15 years now. I only had eyes for her. I'd stay with her even if I could never put it in.

Slowly she calmed down. Her breath grew slow and deliberate, a faint rose spreading on her cheeks. She seemed to consider it, and as I stroked her back, she began to believe me. "Do you really mean it?" Of course I did. "Then..." By now her blush may have been visible to someone else. "Prove it." She had an almost sadistic tone. I could tell she already had something planned. Of course I would. I'd do anything for her. She grinned through her drying tears at the words.

In a flash of motion I found myself on my back on the mat on the floor, struggling for breath with lungs drained by the impact. She stood at my feet, her arms crossed to push her middling bust up ever-so-slightly. "If you're so in love with me, then you should be fine with this~" I swallowed hard as I looked in her gleaming eyes. "Pull down your pants!" I did, and she brought her hoof forward to menace my uncovered penis. "I get it now... You're a masochist! You love it when I'm cold to you!" That wasn't it at all. She wouldn't listen.



It was like my balls were in a vice. Her hard keratin pressed down on my testicle, as unyealding as the hardwood underneath. Tears welled in my eyes as I begged her to stop. Even through the veil I could see her confusion. I sighed with relief as she let off the pressure, only to give my flaccid member a tentative kick. I yelped in pain, but steadfastly refused to have an erection. She backed off and furrowed her brow as I moaned, still in pain. "Are you for real...?"

She had no idea what was going on. Her idea of my masochism had been shattered, but she wouldn't believe the truth. She paced around my feet as I still reeled from being trod on. "This just doesn't make any sense." She walked over to my head and squat down just to the side from me. Had she not almost castrated me moments before I'd have enjoyed the view under her skirt. "I- If you want me to prove something, let's just not have sex for a month...?"

"I can't do that." Her voice cracked. And why was that? "I... I actually..." She stammered before she finally managed to bleat it out. "I don't come from masturbating..." I was actually surprised. I had no idea she had orgasms from sex. "Wait... Then, what did you mean when you said you could see me feel it?" I thought she just reacted to being teased, I had no idea she could get off in such a short time. I realized I had swung up at the thought just as she blushed at the sight.