Dessert, I expected to take care of myself…<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Misha, Aethon and Jules</span><br/><br/>“I want to hear her sing again,” Mary sighs, nestling in Aethon’s arms, “and to have your cock in me,” she adds, almost as an afterthought - then moans, quietly, as Misha gently begins to croon once more. Spilling from Aethon’s arms, shedding the clothes he’s stripped from her along the way, she sprawls forward across the bed, rump in the air, puffy pussy-lips wet and winking.<br/><br/>Enfolded in Misha’s wings, the other prostitute merely whispers her moans, trembling as the harpy’s song rinses her mind clean. There’s no resistance to Misha’s kiss, merely a brief, confused attempt to meet it with her own lips and tongue, until the harpy’s mouth engulfs her head. Utterly bespelled, she’s stiff enough to hold her own weight, but flaccid down her harpy’s throat, as first her head, then shoulders and breasts, midriff and waist are swallowed up, as soon as the harpy’s talons have stripped or shredded her clothes. Within seconds, she’s a long pair of legs sticking from a bulging, upraised throat, twitching as they’re helplessly drawn down Misha’s gullet. Within the harpy’s tum, the mass of the prostitute curls up, delighted to have slid where such beautiful music drifted from. As soon as she’s swallowed, curled up in the tight embrace of Misha’s stomach, the harpy once again begins to sing, this time set above the bass-track of her gurgling tum… together, the two sounds still the woman, as she slowly begins to digest into nothing more than the harpy’s meal.<br/><br/>For her part, Mary, occupied with Misha’s song and Aethon’s attentions, barely notices the devouring of her friend…<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Xarces</span><br/><br/>“...and unless I am mistaken...is that Dura I hear out there? Oh it's a shame our previous encounter was cut so short~"<br/><br/>“Indeed it is,” Dura calls back, “and indeed it was,” she continues, gently rubbing Xarces tum. “I’d have much prefered Odette pleasure<span style="font-style: italic">me</span>whilst I digested you than this way around,” she sighs, over Odette’s soft sound of protest, “but you’re her meal, fairly caught.” From above, echoes the soft sound of kissing, and Dura’s body, shifting against Odette’s, squishes yours. “I won’t steal you from her,” she says, and this time, its Odette’s stomach she’s kissing, hard enough for you to see the imprint of her lips on the other girl’s stomach-lining - making Odette’s tum gurgle and bubble acids in response. “Persuade me to ask her to keep you alive awhile,” Dura continues, “or persuade<span style="font-style: italic">her</span>that you’ll be more enjoyable digested<span style="font-style: italic">slow</span>,” she teases, her fingertips trailing across Odette’s tum, sometimes tickling, sometimes squeezing… but always speeding the digestive work of Odette’s tum. Dura finishes with a sharp smack, that splashes acid across you and springs a warning squeeze from Odette’s gut.<br/><br/>“Since you’ve already eaten, dear,” you hear Dura say airily, “how about dessert?” She asks, and the bed bounces as she shifts to straddle Odette’s lips - the lips through which you so recently passed. Soon, as both women moan their pleasure, the hot scent of Dura’s sex is flowing down Odette’s oesophagus, and the other woman’s sex-juice following soon behind. Through it, Dura’s hands continue to press on Odette’s belly, her lips planting kisses across its distended mass - apparently, Dura’s riding her in reverse...<br/><br/>Unfortunately, it seems Odette’s tum is more than happy to join the dripping, squeezing party…