On the sun-scorched stretch of the dwarven kingdom’s coastal beach, heat pulsed through the sand, and a salty breeze stirred the bustling air. Thrain, a weathered elder dwarf past fifty, sauntered along, thriving in the lazy thrill. His chubby, muscular frame bore time’s rugged marks—broad chest thick with gray-white hair, a slight belly rounding his solid build, radiating coarse, seasoned allure. His open Hawaiian shirt fluttered with bold floral patterns, exposing hefty pecs and dark brown nipples, stiff and teasing at the fabric’s edges. His short, thick penis, stout as a bottle cork, bulged in a tight floral thong, swaying with each step, its shape taunting through the cloth.
Thrain lived for this beach—not just the waves, but the eyes he commanded. He lingered in the crowd’s thickest knot, pacing slow, scanning faces—young dwarves, travelers, sunbathers sprawled afar. His open shirt and straining thong flaunted his body, nipples glinting with sweat, cock hardening, stretching the fabric taut. “Look at ‘em stare,” he muttered, a sly grin tugging his lips as he soaked in the voyeuristic rush, dragging his steps to milk every glance.
By a jagged cluster of rocks, Thrain paused, kicking off his sandals to bare wide, calloused feet, toes stubby and strong. “Time to give ‘em a real show,” he chuckled, settling against a boulder, legs spread, feet sinking into warm sand. He squinted at a group of young dwarves whispering and pointing, feeding his ego. Stretching his arms, he let the shirt fall wide, chest puffing out, nipples hard as pebbles, daring the onlookers. Then Karl—a lean dwarf with big, rugged feet—strode up, eyes sparking with lust, locked on Thrain’s groin.
“Elder, feet roasting out here?” Karl teased, voice playful but thick with want. Thrain flicked his gaze over him, rubbing his feet in the sand. “Aye, hot as a forge. You gonna step on ‘em and cool me down, lad?” Karl grinned, eyes flashing. “Thought you’d never ask,” he shot back, shedding his shoes, planting a barefoot sole on Thrain’s foot. “Like this?” he taunted, toes kneading the rough skin, calluses scraping. Thrain grunted, legs twitching, pleasure spiking. “Harder, you little shit,” he growled, his cock stiffening more, thong stretching, precum seeping through, darkening the front.
Karl laughed low. “Bossy old bastard, huh?” he said, sliding his foot up Thrain’s thick thigh, inching toward the thong, eyes blazing. “How’s this feel, then?” Thrain leaned back, chest heaving, nipples throbbing, pinching one with a rough hand. “Keep goin’, don’t fuck around,” he snapped, growling as Karl’s foot pressed onto his cock, rough sole grinding slow. “Yeah, that’s it—step on it good,” Thrain panted, breaths ragged, legs shaking, precum soaking the thong. “You like watchin’ me squirm, don’t ya?” he added, eyes darting to Karl’s eager face and the distant crowd, the mix of exposure and scrutiny making him throb.
“Damn right I do,” Karl replied, grinding deeper. “Look at that fat cock beggin’ for it.” Thrain smirked, rasping, “On your knees, then. Lick it, now.” Karl dropped fast, eyes glued to the wet thong. “Gonna taste that mess,” he muttered, leaning in, nose brushing the fabric, sniffing loud. “Smells like you’re ready to burst, old man,” he said, tongue flicking out, lapping the cock’s head through the cloth. “Fuck, it’s salty,” he groaned, sucking the damp spot, probing deeper. Thrain growled, fingers tangling in Karl’s hair, gripping tight. “Suck it harder, you greedy runt,” he barked, chest rising fast, nipples taut. “Get that tongue in there—don’t tease me.” Karl obeyed, licking fierce, tongue swirling the head, sucking the thong sopping wet. “Tastes better than ale,” Karl mumbled, muffled, Thrain’s legs trembling, pleasure slamming through.
“Enough playin’—fuck me,” Thrain panted. “Right here, with this damn thong on.” Karl stood, yanking his pants down, his slender cock springing free, precum gleaming. “You asked for it, elder,” he said, spitting into his hand, slicking himself. “Gonna ram you good.” He grabbed Thrain’s hips, tugging him forward, nudging the thong aside just enough to bare Thrain’s hole beneath the tight cloth. “Nice and tight, huh?” Karl muttered, pushing in slow, his cock sliding past the thong’s edge into Thrain’s ass. Thrain moaned loud, hands clutching the rock. “Fuck, you’re big for a skinny prick,” he gasped, chest heaving, nipples scraping the shirt as Karl thrust deeper, the thong rubbing his own cock with every shove.
“Take it, old man,” Karl grunted, picking up speed, hips slamming, thong chafing Thrain’s short, thick cock, precum dripping through. “Feel that? Crowd’s eatin’ this up,” he taunted, smirking as Thrain’s body rocked, sweat pouring, chest hair matted, nipples red and hard. “They’re jerkin’ off to you,” Karl pressed, hand gripping Thrain’s thong-covered cock, rubbing it rough. “Shit, you’re wet as hell,” he said, Thrain’s moans peaking, legs shaking hard. “Gonna cum for ‘em, huh?” Karl teased, pounding faster.
Thrain gritted his teeth. “Shut up and fuck me harder,” he snarled, pleasure building from the friction and Karl’s thrusts. The crowd watched—some licking lips, others groping themselves—Thrain catching their stares. “Look at ‘em, Karl—fuckin’ love it,” he panted, voice breaking. Karl growled, thrusting wild, then froze. “Here it comes, you old perv,” he hissed, cumming hard, hot spurts flooding Thrain’s ass, some seeping into the thong’s stretched fabric around his cock. Thrain shuddered, the heat and thong’s grip pushing him over. “Fuck—me too,” he groaned, cum mixing with Karl’s, soaking the thong, dripping down his thighs.
Karl pulled out, panting, cum still trickling into the thong’s pouch. “Clean it,” Thrain ordered, breathless, slumping back. “Every damn drop.” Karl dropped to his knees, eyes hungry. “You’re a messy bastard,” he said, mouth diving to the thong, licking the soaked fabric. “Tastes like us,” he mumbled, sucking up the sticky mix of their cum, tongue digging into the pouch, lapping it clean. “Gonna get it all, elder,” he promised, slurping loud, Thrain groaning, chest heaving, nipples stiff. “Good boy—don’t miss a spot,” Thrain rasped, watching Karl’s tongue work, the crowd’s eyes still burning. Karl finished, lips smeared, grinning. “All gone,” he said, wiping his mouth.
As Thrain slumped against the rock, shirt wide open, chest slick with sweat, nipples hard, thong clinging wet to his softening cock, a hulking figure waddled into view—Gorrim, a fat, mature dwarf with a giant penis that dwarfed all else. His hefty frame jiggled, belly round and sagging, thighs thick as trunks, sweat gleaming on his hairy chest. His wet fundoshi—a traditional dwarven loincloth—clung tight, soaked from the surf, barely holding a monstrous cock that strained the fabric, its outline colossal, nearly bursting free, the tip bulging near his waist. Gorrim’s eyes fixed on Thrain’s cum-soaked state, a knowing grin splitting his weathered face.
“Well, well, Thrain,” Gorrim rumbled, voice deep and rough, stepping closer. “Caught you in a right mess, huh? Still into that foot shit, I bet.” Thrain chuckled, catching his breath, eyeing Gorrim’s massive bulge. “Aye, you fat fuck—know me too damn well,” he shot back, spreading his legs wider. “Go on, step on it—give it a good mash.” Gorrim smirked, kicking off his sandals to reveal wide, meaty feet, calluses thick from years on stone. “Gonna make you squeal, old friend,” he said, lifting one foot slow, hovering it over Thrain’s cum-soaked thong. “This what you’re cravin’?” he teased, lowering it, pressing the rough sole onto Thrain’s sensitive package—cock and balls tender from Karl’s work. Thrain grunted hard, legs twitching. “Fuck, yes—step on it, you big lug,” he growled, chest heaving again, nipples tightening as Gorrim’s foot settled, the wet thong squishing under the weight.
Gorrim started slow, rhythmic, his foot grinding down, toes curling to knead Thrain’s cock through the soggy fabric. “Feel that, huh? All sloppy and soft,” he muttered, stepping harder, shifting to roll Thrain’s balls under his sole. Thrain moaned loud, hands gripping the rock. “Shit, Gorrim—keep goin’, don’t stop,” he panted, voice hoarse, the crowd’s eyes widening, some whispering, others staring slack-jawed. “Harder, you fat bastard—make it sting,” Thrain urged, his softening cock twitching, sensitive nerves screaming as Gorrim’s foot worked, cum oozing through the thong with each press.
“Dirty old goat,” Gorrim laughed, picking up the pace, foot stomping in a steady beat, grinding Thrain’s package raw. “Look at ‘em watchin’—you’re lovin’ this shit,” he said, glancing at the onlookers, his own giant cock swelling, fundoshi creaking. Thrain groaned, head tipping back. “Fuck yeah, step on it—give ‘em a show,” he rasped, chest shuddering, nipples aching, pleasure and overstimulation surging as Gorrim’s meaty foot pressed and rolled, cum squelching loud in the thong. Karl watched, grinning, muttering, “Old man’s insatiable.”
Gorrim kept at it, foot relentless, Thrain’s moans turning ragged, body jerking. “Fuck—gonna cum again,” Thrain gasped, the pressure building fast, Gorrim’s stomping pushing him over the edge. “Do it, you fat fuck—now!” he barked, his short, thick cock pulsing one last time, a weak spurt of cum leaking into the thong, mixing with the mess already there. Just as Thrain’s final shudder hit, Gorrim grinned wide, stepping back. “My turn, you filthy sod,” he growled, yanking his fundoshi aside, unleashing his giant cock—long and thick as an arm, veins bulging, precum dripping. “Take this, Thrain,” he roared, grabbing it with both hands, stroking fast. He erupted like a fountain, thick ropes of hot cum arcing through the air, splattering Thrain’s chest, belly, and thighs.
The load was colossal, a gushing torrent coating Thrain’s hairy chest, pooling in his belly’s creases, running down his legs, soaking the open shirt and thong. Thrain glistened in the sunlight, cum dripping off his nipples, his chubby frame gleaming wet and sticky, a living canvas of Gorrim’s release. “Fuckin’ hell, Gorrim—you drowned me,” Thrain laughed, voice rough, wiping a hand through the mess, smearing it across his chest. Gorrim panted, his giant cock softening, still dripping. “Had to mark you proper, old friend,” he said, grinning smug. “Look at you shine.”
Exhausted from the relentless encounters, Thrain slumped fully against the rock, shirt splayed, chest and belly slick with Gorrim’s cum, nipples hard, thong a sodden ruin. “Best damn beach day yet,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut, the heat and exertion pulling him into a heavy sleep. His breaths slowed, body glistening under the sun, a cum-drenched spectacle for all to see. In his dreams, he stood under warm rain, drops pelting his skin, soft and soothing, a hazy smile tugging his lips as the sensation washed over him.
As Thrain slept, the beach hummed on, and one after another, dwarves seeking their own sexual thrills wandered by. First came Dren, a stocky dwarf with a scruffy beard, spotting Thrain’s sprawled, cum-coated form. “Well, fuck me—he’s a mess,” Dren muttered, eyes glinting with mischief. “Might as well add to it.” He stepped close, dropping his trousers, stroking his thick cock fast, grunting low. “Take this, elder,” he said, cumming hard, spurts landing on Thrain’s chest, mixing with Gorrim’s load, trickling down his hairy pecs.
Next was Vark, a wiry dwarf with quick hands, pausing midstride. “Look at that—old Thrain’s a damn cum dump now,” he snickered, pulling out his slender cock, jerking it swift. “Here’s mine, you old perv,” he muttered, shooting ropes across Thrain’s belly, the cum pooling in his navel, glistening wet. Thrain stirred faintly in his sleep, murmuring, “More rain…” oblivious to the growing mess.
Over time, others joined—Borin, a burly dwarf, adding a thick load to Thrain’s thighs, muttering, “Fuckin’ legend deserves it”; then Kael, lean and quiet, splattering Thrain’s chest with a quick burst, whispering, “Sleep tight, elder.” Each dwarf, drawn by the sight of Thrain’s cum-soaked, glistening body, added their mark, stroking themselves to release, their grunts and low laughs blending with the surf. The crowd watched, some joining in, others staring in awe, the spectacle growing wilder.
For hours, it went on, Thrain’s body becoming a canvas of layered cum—chest, belly, thighs, even his beard and open shirt drenched, the thong a sticky, overflowing pouch. In his dream, the warm rain poured harder, bathing him in a soothing torrent, his chubby frame trembling faintly with each imagined drop. The sun dipped low, casting golden light over his glistening form, a sticky, shimmering monument to the day’s debauchery. When he finally stirred awake, cum caked and drying, he’d grin, muttering, “Fuckin’ hell—what a storm.”
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