I might well be literally run over by a troll, a giant, or a tank. I groaned, and tried to sit up. Something soft tightened around my neck. I grabbed it. It was an arm, clammy and, inexplicably, cold in the hot breath of summer air. I unclasped it and rolled.
Beside me was the man I met yesterday at the bar, stripped of clothes, exhausted, and well-fucked. Is this a dream? He was not young, which now I could see due to the close proximity. Faint crow’s feet marked the corners of his eyes; There were dried tears, white and salty (as I imagined). The covers were on the rug, so there was nothing blocking my view of his legs. They were long, white and hairless — with knobby knees and ankles that seemed beautifully carved out by a proficient hand.
Then my eyes fell on the more…private parts. His cock, lying placid, was slim and long as the rest of him. There were white blots on the pink flesh, which was quite peculiar. Are all Omegas like this? I asked myself then. Is this a dream?
I rolled him around. He didn’t even make a sound, still fast asleep. I could not quite comprehend what I was seeing. Is this a dream? Imprints of hands were all over his trimmed waist and round, plump cheeks. His legs parted a little, so I could see his balls, also a sweet shade of pink, and the white streaks that leaked to the inner thighs, from…
A wave of possessiveness — Alphaness —grasped me, and I ran a finger down his cheeks, and parted them. I saw the hole, and the white come, my semen, leaking out. Stimulated by the cold, crisp air of morn, it constricted, drawing some of the opaque fluid inside, and then out again when it relaxed. I looked on curiously, one finger slowly circling the hairless, shivering pucker. Why is he hairless? Are all Omegas like this? I pushed inside; it was wet and slack, barely resisting my breach, and then, it yielded: the muscles gently sucked my finger, warm and welcoming. I shuddered, reached deeper, and stirred around. He moved, letting out a long, dreamy, boneless sigh. He was still asleep, but with pure instinct, this man — my Omega — was seducing me, surrendering to me, and eating up my finger. A smell of trampled grass and earth slowly filled the air. I was getting hard. It was then that I found it.
All my thoughts of romance disappeared in a blink. My penis went soft. Dread was creeping up onto my heart as the full implication of what I had done finally sank in. I drew my hand back. He moaned, swayed his hips ever so slightly, but I offered no comfort.