Story – The Floor Show – Part 8
“The Floor Show”
Part 8 by FurCreamer
VIII.
The Firing Squad left, stage right, and Quinn waived them off. The heavy fur curtains closed as she did. “I don’t know about you bitches, but that got me all hot and bothered…” Quinn gyrated her hips, showing off the big bulge around her much roomier, Native-American-inspired white fox skirt. “While we get ready for the next act, any lady want to come up here and let me… freshen their fur?”
Quinn punctuated the request by pulling open the fly on her white fox skirt, releasing the cock beneath out into the open.
Svetlana’s long nails curled around Hellena’s arm as she began to get up. “Now, now… This is probably not the best time for a reunion, dahling.” she purred.
“Bogus,” Hellena pouted, though adorably, as she settled back against the plush fur couch and dragged a long blush fox wrap up into her lap from the pile of strewn furs on the couch and floor to her right.
Quinn had no shortage of volunteers waiving their finely manicured hands in the air. A spotlight burst forth from over the stage and roamed the audience. Waving arms encased in long, thick fox sleeves were juxtaposed with more bare arms and with huge stoles piled up around their shoulders.
“Who will it be…?” Quinn gamely teased the audience as the spotlight continued to roam. “There!” she shouted. The spotlight came to halt and swept back slightly to frame Quinn’s choice.
Rising from atop a pile of fox coats she’d piled on the couch beneath her, the lucky girl posed in the spotlight. The outfit was a bit more creative than most. Like a glamorous arctic explorer, the gurl was wrapped in a huge pearl fox parka, topped with a giant hood with a wide white fox fringe that framed her entire face in silky fox hair. Belted at the waist by a full pelt white fox boa, the parka came down to her thighs. Those thighs and the rest of her legs were encased in what appeared to be heavy pearl fox pants. Rolls of puffy, thick fox enclosed the legs right down to the big furry boots on her feet.
She “accessorized” the outfit with a big wolf backpack and fox straps. The backpack appeared full and heavy on her back, contributing to the notion she would appear more at home on some long, treacherous arctic journey. The kid leather gloves on her hands rounded out the attire, and left her face as the only part of her body exposed to the chilly theatre air.
“Now there’s a gurl who likes to bundle up!” Quinn said as the audience member made her way to the isle in a reasonably nimble fashion, despite the heavy layers of fur and backpack weighing her down. “C’mon up here!” Quinn held out her hand helping the gurl get up the steps to the stage while obviously taking a moment to rub her fingers over the soft pearl fox parka. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Tyndall,” she answered quickly.
“Hope you don’t mind a big cleaning bill,” Quinn said, hands rubbing the sleeve of Tyndall’s parka while she slapped her stiff erection against Tyndall’s fur-sheathed thigh. Tyndall was a good deal taller than Quinn, but Quinn was by no means intimidated by the height difference. That had changed from the first time Svetlana encountered her, she mused.
“Spunk me hard, baby,” she replied enthusiastically.
“Woo! Now that’s what I want to hear!” Quinn shouted, luridly thrusting up against Tyndall’s flank now.
Despite the height difference, Quinn was obviously in charge. It was also apparent those tits weren’t the only work she’d had done. Svetlana noticed it the moment it flopped out Quinn’s native American inspired white fox outfit. She’d been quite up close and personal with Quinn’s “equipment” a year ago, and it was obvious she’d had some enchantments made.
The cock between Quinn’s legs wasn’t so much longer as thicker, much thicker. Svetlana estimated that “beer can” would rather aptly describe the diameter of the trunk of Quinn’s engorged member. The glans at the end wasn’t quite as wide, but the main shaft matched, and would cause quite a bit of “discomfort” to anyone not ready for such a fat pipe.
Quinn worked the broad slab of dickmeat now, rubbing it up down the side of Tyndall’s pearl fox explorer pants. The wide shaft left the fur disheveled and tossed where it brushed through harshly. Quinn’s movements were not tender, but powerful and rough. Tyndall stood her ground while Quinn humped against her, holding out her arms and twisting her hips forward so the crowd could get a good view of Quinn’s excited thrusting.
“Mmmm, baby, you know I gotta paint that hood, right?” Quinn moaned with a soulful desire in her voice. She sauntered back behind Tyndall and grabbed the sides of the hood from behind, rubbing her fingers deeply into the white fox fringe. “Oh, who wants to see this gorgeous fur totally fucked up!” she shouted into the mic.
Cheers greeted the request.
“Get on those well padded knees for me baby,” Quinn more ordered than requested. Quinn rubbed Tyndall by the shoulders as she slowly knelt down. Once on her knees, Quinn was visible once more, her huge jugs bouncing just over the top of Tyndall’s parka hood. She smiled and rubbed them against the back of Tyndall’s hood, roughly pressing her white fox against the pearl fox of the hood and giggling as her big tits wobbled.
Emerging to the side, Quinn’s fat pink erection did some wobbling of its own, still framed by the white fox of her pleated fur skirt. She wiggled her ass some, letting the long dangling boas on her outfit leap around before flanking Tyndall to her left and slapping the cock down on her shoulder. “Damn, I’m gonna fuck this up so bad,” she moaned, thrusting the fat, beer-can dick against the parka’s shoulder, where it met the wide, drape of the hood.
The audience cheered. Svetlana was once again aware of the strain between her legs. Relenting, she worked the front of her leather skirt and zipped downward. The tall czarina in fur allowed herself some relief as the uncut Slavic giant between her legs was finally freed.
“Mmm,” Quinn moaned as she humped away at the parka on stage. “Let’s give this bitch what she deserves, shall we?”
Rearing back, Quinn’s bloated cock-sausage pulled free just as it started launching a white line of cocksnot up the side of the parka hood’s white fox fringe. Heavy and wet, the pearly streak of load landed perfectly, roping over the top of the hood’s fringe and battering it down as it landed. Against the shiny white fox, Quinn’s load took on a pallid gray hue. The thick babybatter steamed in the cool air, rising slowly off the long guard hairs. Quinn’s orgasm was just beginning, and more followed in rapid succession. Spurts flew one after another, with only the shortest pause in between.
Quinn rocked the side of Tyndall’s parka hood after savaging the white fox fringe with more spurts. Soon the entire side of the hood was a gluey, pasty mass of tranny cum, steaming in the chilly air. Quinn’s nuts squeezed more and more out every time the tip pulsed, while drips and dribbles rolled off her fingers and splattered the front of her own white fox skirt in the process.
The crowed cheered, and spurt, their approval. Svetlana was aware of the combination of moans and passionate cries from the audience behind and beside her. The smell of spunk was suddenly heavy in the theatre as cocks shot off in appreciation of Quinn’s on stage spunking.
For her part, the willing victim, Tyndall, rubbed the front of her parka as she felt the heavy battering of fresh jizz on the side of her hood. Moaning and gasping through it all, her hands thrust at her crotch, where the fox pants now bulged. Near the end of Quinn’s fountaining orgasm, Tyndall gasped, hard, and thrust her hips towards her hands, obviously shooting a load right into her fox pants from the mere sensation of Quinn’s cum blasting her parka.
Though it seemed to last forever, Quinn’s fat rod finally stopped. Tyndall, who was partially slumped over now due to her own mind-rocking orgasm, obediently let Quinn turn her head to the side to show off the results of the monstrous explosion of white reproductive fluid on the side of her expensive parka’s huge hood.
The left side of the hood was cocooned in a white, chunky shell that ran from the top all the way down to the shoulder and upper arm of the pearl fox parka. The fine pelts were swimming with sperm that was stuck like glue. Quinn’s ejaculate was far too thick to simply run off. Tyndall could actually feel the weight of it pushing down against the side of her face, and feel the heat of it through the silk lining of the hood.
“Hope you know a good furrier,” Quinn said with a giggle. The crowd laughed along with her.
Wet fox was obvious between Tyndall’s legs when she rose to her feet and made the tenuous walk back to her spot on the couches. By the time she made it back, a few of the gurls were there to greet her. Greet her and get a sample of the famous Quinn Cumbunny’s load. They started rubbing the huge wet mess with their fingers and wiping it on their own fox coats and accessories. Tyndall didn’t seem to mind.
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