Yes Another
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Posted:Jul 20, 2006 7:18 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2076 Views
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“Are we safe out here?” Her voice was confident on the day of their first formal meeting but now it was that of a young, scared girl. “My father talks about brigands and norlogs choking the edge of this corridor.”
“No fears, you are safe with me,” Jhatison was confident and he had good reason to be. He had come a long way from his days riding next to Lord Dhartson on the coach bench and there was already the mark of a strong and virile man in him.
“Really?” She questioned him and turned in the darkness to face him, they had reached their destination and it was clear he was not going to regale her with stories or tales of his past. It was never her purpose to hear him talk about his life because she was sure she had heard more exciting in her travels. He was handsome and strong, this is what she wanted to get a more intimate understanding of.
“Yes, really,” he reached out to put his hands on her shoulders and found them to be bare where a silky dress had been when they left the dimly lit wagon campsite. They had tried to be as stealthy as thieves because there was so much on the line and Jhatison was quite sure her father would not be pleased to know she was off with a common laborer.
He felt her body wiggling as she slipped out of the dress with ease and suspicious experience. Down his exploring hands traveled, her firm youthful frame did not need the uplifting support of a bodice so his fingers instantly skimmed over her soft and supple breasts. His trailing thumb grazed an angry nipple spurred to a hardened state by the chilly forest night. One hand lingered at her chest alternating back and forth to make sure both fleshy prizes were equally serviced with his loving touch but his other hand went further and further down. Like plows, his finger cut through the curly blonde hair of her womanhood and burst out of the patch to hover over her pouting pink lips. Her lips protruded from her pussy, it was if a small carnal butterfly had landed at the entrance to her forbidden tunnel. His index finger flicked one of the wings of the butterfly and Teur shivered, his finger was gentle now as it ran around the outer reaches in a wide circle before coming back straight up the center. The finger slowly dug through the crevice as he brought it higher and higher, the tip finally coming to a rest buried deep in the fold and poised like a striking cobra above her swollen kernel of a clitoris. She clung to him, her lean arms grasping on to him and pulling herself as close as possible without preventing the mining touch of his fingers.
He struck, pushing his finger into her clitoris and pressing it back against the wall of her pelvic bone. She jumped as if she was startled from sleep, her body moving on its own accord. Teur-Shein crashed her body into him, forgetting all the innocence of what is was meant to be a proper lady. She wanted him so bad, it was burning her alive from her delicious center all the way to the angry red tips of her ears.
“Oh you must stop!” She wheezed hanging from his shoulder as her body quaked against his strong thigh. Her breath was coming in bursts and she swore she could pierce the darkness and see his gorgeous eyes.
“You would like me to stop?” Jhatison’s lips curled in a grin but she did not care that she was a puppet at his mercy. He withdrew his fluttering finger and let her catch her accosted button breath for a second.
“No!” She pulled him closer which seemed impossible and drove her hips closer, seeking out his touch but he retracted each time so that she was not relieved of her quivering state. “You must stop teasing me, Lord and take me like the wanton I am!”
“Such words from a lady,” he huffed in faked disgust, he was under the impression that he was the one that was suppose to be manipulated. He was wrong. Her hands tugged in sheer desperation at the rope that held his trousers around his waist, she was manic.
“Shut up and take me!” She screamed and dropped to her knees. All ideas of keeping her dress clean were forgotten.
Jhatison stepped back and pulled Teur-Shein’s rump with him, her torso lowered so she hugged the trunk of the tree. His thrusts were deliberate and rocked her to her very core. She dug her teeth into her forearm as she was afraid this stud was going to burst through her entire body and come out her mouth. This was special, so very special. She had many lovers on the road under the nose of her father but nothing of this nature. This was just special.
Blossom could not make it fast enough to her bedroll and slid the last few feet. She was acting like a person on fire as she lifted her legs high and shimmied out of her work pants. Tossing her garment to the side she spread her knees and found the source of her own discomfort. Her fingers felt like messengers from the gods as she plied her own shaven pussy wide and started an assault on hard pebble crowning her moistness.
Jhatison hooked one arm under the young woman’s leg and lifted it high. His pelvis was crashing like storm tossed waves against her pussy and she was half a second away from passing out from the exploding ecstasy in her body. She hoped this trip would be a long one as she could see herself living out this little bit of nirvana on a nightly basis. Jhatison was grunting and to her absolute amazement he went deeper and faster.
Blossom had no qualms. She had no fear of discovery and even nodded at the wash lady as she rolled over in her own bed roll to see the commotion. Blossom was lifting her hips up off the ground and chasing her hand with jerks, in her mind there was a man pounding into her. It was her man. Driving her deeper and deeper into a delusional orgasm that made her toes curl and dig into the soil at her feet.
Jhatison growled. Holding onto her hips he drove one last time before yanking his wand free and spraying her back with a shower of hot cum. She collapsed to the ground, painted with his seed and too exhausted to even stand.
Blossom screamed out and let the feeling wash over her. She slammed back down to her bedroll and shook for a moment with utter satisfaction.
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Story Time
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Posted:Jul 20, 2006 7:04 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2007 Views
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Her hands had grasped him hard and held him close, her scent penetrating his nose as her tongue explored his mouth thoroughly. She had spun away and slipped into the darkness of the wagon, the window coming open as it rambled off in a cloud of dust. He swore as he relived the encounter that she screamed over the drum of hooves, shaking of wood, and bustle of the crowd that she loved him.
As if transplanted two days back, Jhatison lifted his hand high in the air to wave a longing and confused goodbye. Jhatison was not waving goodbye. He brought his hand down hard, so hard in fact that when his hand slapped Blossom’s bare rump the sound echoed back to him twice in the small room. The ex-priestess would have whimpered but her voice was muffed by the ornately cut panties stuffed into her mouth, she had three pairs of these silky garments given to all priestesses of the order, two pair in her small pack and one shoved deep between her teeth. The linen cases had come off the down filled pillows and served now to tie her like a punished criminal across the headboard of the large bed. The pair had rented a larger room when they first entered Midway in the same inn but had changed rooms just because of the headboard and balcony that overlooked the street.
Jhatison had discovered Phora’s secret two days past but had also stumbled in a drunken stupor upon Blossom’s inclination for rough and delicious sex. They had only taken time out from remapping the carnal highways to check the bulletin boards for caravans leaving in the next few days. Jhatison had a long history of inexhaustible lust and Blossom seemed to be able to keep up with his desire at every turn.
He slowly slid himself back into her, watching the angry tip of his long and handsomely thick cock slip past the pinkish folds of her pussy until it disappeared entirely inside of her. He stopped. She was convulsing on the inside, a constant barrage of clenching muscles around his shaft. The rest to recount the farewell kiss had brought Blossom back from the brink of orgasm and she looked back at him over her shoulder with wild eyes of anger. He smiled and drove deep, the end of him bluntly crashing into the back wall of her moist pussy and drawing an audible grunt from between her lips and salvia soaked panties. Jhatison hammered down into her until she was forced to bury her face back into the pillow and prepare for the impeding crashing waves. Nothing short of death but stop her orgasm this time as he added the thudding of the headboard against the wall to the orchestra of slapping flesh.
Jhatison knew because he could feel her body tense and jerk underneath him but he had no intent of relenting to a calm finish. The reaction of her body to the heavenly orgasm was a spur to his animalistic drive and he flattened her to the sweat covered sheets with his insistent thrusts. If they would have been lying on the ground instead of the soft bed, he would have put a dent in the shape of her slight body in the earth for he was slamming so hard into her. She would have bruises on her beautiful skin and hidden bruises deep inside her body but she loved it.
In the end he had grunted, sputtered, and cursed, spraying a wide stream of hot cum onto the flushed skin of her lover back.
Blossom stared at the starch white surface of the pillow, salty sweat dripping down into her eyes and blinking away the stinging result. She did not know how long it would take for him to untie her but the soreness in her shoulders from being suspended between the two post was icing on her cake. She had been unsatisfied in the order, not because she did not like sex but for the fact there was an element the priestess could not find in her. Jhatison had found this element in two days of travel and had catered to it like no man could even begin to realize, no man except the one she now lived to serve.
Jhatison was not her man and she knew it from the interactions with Phora but she also knew without a doubt she was owned by him and that was in no small way more rewarding to her. She was Jhatison’s little slave and nothing would stand in her way from dishing out to every single desire that crossed his mind.
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You guessed it
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Posted:Jul 10, 2006 7:21 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
1970 Views
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She was not the only one changed by the grisly experiences in the cellar her MAN had changed also. He had always been and would always remain a charming, gentle soul but as a lover he had become more urgent and rough. She liked it.
She had knocked frantically on his door gasping for breath. She could not remember the following moments because her excitement clouded her memory over but it must have been only a scarce few gulps of air. She was instantly complete again, comforted by his strong arms a sense of safety he could only give her. Her fingers were interlaced behind his neck and his hands clamped to her thighs. One boot lay on the floor and her leather trousers swung back and forth from her other ankle where the other boot still held to her foot. She was in the air held in his arms as he pounded like a rabid animal into her. Her tunic was torn open and he was hunched over sucking hard on her exposed nipples.
All she could do was scream out at the top of her lungs as he fucked her hard splashing his huge cock and thighs with her pent up juices. Afterward she would lick him clean from knee to knee spending extra attention of his cock, balls, and asshole but as she roared through one of many orgasm she could only feel relieved by finding him again and it had only been half a tenday.
He had not been done. He had let her regain her feet and she almost crashed to the floor on noodle like legs but he had her again. Let her regain her feet he did but he did not let her regain her bearings.
There was a plush high back chair in the small dwelling surrounded on both sides by books of all makes and shapes, it seemed so out of place considering the scarcity of the surroundings. She was pushed over the arm of this chair and her faced pressed down into the worked leather covering. He entered her again and picked up the blazing momentum of his thrusts. Jhatison pushed the remainder of the torn tunic up around her shoulders and the back of her head so he could rake her back with his hungry fingers. He started to spank her with his broad hands and she knew in the morning she would have bruises on the tops of her thighs and handprints on her ass but she loved it. There was so much raw energy and passion that the emotions were almost enough spend her over the edge but there was no need because his plunging cock was taking care of that and her.
A kind lady with a basket full of bread tapped Jasmine’s rump lightly with her cane and brought her back to the present. “You ok, sweetie?”
“Oh I am just precious,” Jasmine smiled for the fourth or fifth time in her life and stomped off toward the Veil, people should learn to let her daydream when she was carrying a sword and a burning desire in her pants.
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Yet another
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Posted:Jul 10, 2006 7:12 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2039 Views
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She knew one way to get him to tell the truth, she smiled and brushed her napkin off the edge of the table with her elbow. It took an entirety to float down to the floor and both of them watch it as trying to guess for what purpose it may have become dislodged from the table.
“Oops, silly me,” the demure and ravishing woman put a innocent hand to her mouth in feinted embarrassment before he could do the chivalrous thing and retrieve it for her. She dipped under the table with a wink, which he could not misinterpret.
As if cursed with the bad timing bug, Squigill appeared up the steps with an angry waiter on his heels but Erikk brushed the upset man off with a wave of his hand. The warrior’s companion took up station on the abandoned stool and scanned the used plates like a sleuth trying to break a great crime. “Date in the powder her nose and her face paint room?”
“Well actually…” Erikk felt a small hand on the lacing covering his crotch and faltered, he was speechless for a second and this was definitely out of character for him. “Yes, she is frequenting the ladies’ room.”
“Aye, good enough I have some new for ye,” he examined her plate with the end of a discarded fork and found a slice of hen to his liking. “My this one likes to eat, nearly ate her whole meal. Here and I though the modern woman did not like to eat in front of men.”
He was free, the yet to be noticed post rain breeze tickled the sensitive skin of his heavy sack and sent shivers up the length of his cock. Her hand cupped his chilly jewels to warm them against the icy touch of the air and her small, pouting lips let his head pass through. “You can say that again.”
“Aye, I could but it would take longer for me to share my news,” he gave his friend a wink to punctuate his wit but the big man was just staring at him like a frozen deer. Further and further he was swallowed until he questioned if there was any more room in the cavernous mouth of his new acquaintance. Her tongue bathed the under side of his engorged penis as sharp nails scratch ever so delicately between his hanging pearls and his forbidden arse. He was so tense that he had to grasp the edge of the table to prevent fidgeting.
“This might not be the place for that,” was all he could offer as the woman’s head bobbed up and down his length with her expert spare hand stroking him in a fluid corkscrew motion. He feared he might lose his control and gag her quickly with his seed but he had a reputation to uphold even in this out of way city.
“This is no worse than any other and this is news we shant be ignoring,” Squigill topped off a wine goblet and helped himself to a few healthy swigs of the outrageously expensive wine. “Expensive stock but still tastes like piss to me.”
“I would think our room would serve better,” he confessed as Nianaknak increased her torturous pace. He was having problems sitting still and found himself involuntarily rise up off the seat to plant himself deeper and deeper in her mouth. This was much better than looking at the stupid moon.
“It might be now that you mention it. How long as the girl been in the room?” Squigill had forgotten all common decency and had started drinking straight from the wine jug. It was not every day this weary dwarf had free wine and the remains of a meal.
The seal around his staff was broken and not even the soft hands remained. Erikk relaxed a little and wondered what his companion would do if he knew the prettiest lass in all the Holds was under the table servicing him like a dancing girl.
“Yes it would. I will finish…” something brushed against his leg and he could not help himself but look at the shapely calf as it poked out from under the table. What was the girl up to?
“What is it?” Squigill’s ugly face was an orchestra of wrinkles as he frowned but he did not see another shapely calf emerge beside Erikk’s other leg. The stone faced warrior did not know what was happening until the last second as a heart shaped ass appeared over his unmasked crotch. His cock slowly slid down that incredible moist path as Nianaknak crawled backward into him, her back must have been pressed to the underside of the table and her arms holding up all of her weight. She was so tight, he had been with many virgins in his time but this was different. It was like his cock was held by this clenching fist, her pussy was milking him with internal pulses and he had to grab the side of his stool to prevent exploding like a mad man.
“Nothing,” he removed his desperate hands only to place them on her slowly grinding ass, he dug small angry circle into her soft flesh as she tortured him with insistent deep spasms. Oh she was more than just good she was the best.
“Well somebody is not in the mood to talk today,” the dwarf wiped half of the food off his face and dropped the napkin but it missed the table. “Oh let me get that mister anti-social.”
Erikk did not care as he brought the rump back and forth against his lap and did even register that the dwarf was leaning over to pick up the napkin from the wooden floor. The rogue bent over and stopped as a lithe arm reached out from under the tablecloth and handed him the soiled handkerchief.
“Thank you,” he whispered and smiled, good ole Erikk the lady killer. He turned and made a show of storming to the stairs, he was going to keep the cloth square for his own pleasures seeing that his friend was getting the real thing.
His eyes were closed so he did not see his friend depart and he did not really care about the astonished look the waiter was casting his way. Erikk was in a blissful nirvana and it was all centered on his penis.
The broad shouldered man pulled away from the table and brought his lover with him. With her free from the confines of the underside of the sexual prison he was able to revenge the evil dance she had performed on his lap while he was attempting a conversation with the forgotten thief. He had stood from the stool and was pounding away at that perfectly shape ass and rewarded with the grunts and moans of the now vocal mime. She felt so good and she was giving all indications that he was doing the same for her. The moon was a great backdrop for their tryst and he was making full use of the atmosphere. He was sending waves of rippling flesh with each deep thrust and living up to his name.
Nianaknak push back with more strength than Erikk gave her credit of possessing and he sat back down involuntarily on the stool. The ageless priestess had more surprises and flexibility circus performers would be envious of. She twisted around on him, never breaking contact so that she seemed like she was going to sit in his lap and ride him but that was not entirely her intent. As her left leg passed over his head her right foot touched the floor and she stopped like this with her leg pointed straight up in the air. His eyes were saucers of disbelief as she started to rock into him with her lips pressed against her own shin.
“What is your hurry big boy?” She purred as his hand reached her bare breast, they were as perfect as his smile and opened just as many doors. He was rough with her boobs as they bounced and jiggled with her movements but men had a tendency to forget themselves when she had them in her most precious grip, she was a complete package from her painted toes to her golden locks. He wondered if he could take her back south with him.
“No hurry at all,” he gasped and forgot poetry of words for a few minutes as he felt the burning rise of his seed from his swaying sacs, he hoped she did not fly off his lap when he exploded.
“You need to learn to enjoy the moment.” The smell. That is what was wrong with her new beau, he did not have the smell. No one had the smell of Jhatison.
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yet another... almost like lord of the rings porn
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Posted:Jul 10, 2006 6:16 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2139 Views
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The halfling spit on the street and turned like a sentry on the wall, she had worn a dip in the wooden walk over the year she had ruled this corner. The sex business was slow with the merchant caravans out on the supply route and payday nearly a full ten-day away. She had to keep herself entertained thinking up new songs and giving the occasional hand job to a peddler here and there.
“You don’t look so good,” Jhatison chuckled from the post holding the awning over the halfling’s little patrol area. He had snuck up on her and she shrank back with his low, deep voice. Not many people got the jump on this veteran of the streets and back alley shadows.
“Well you broke my nose,” she composed herself but there was no hiding the fear, which raked her body in wild shivers. True to his evaluation, she looked like a raccoon with her two black eyes. She had survived crossing him but did not get away cleanly.
“Did you get what you deserved?” He asked stepping through the cape of darkness into the small light offered by the crescent moon, he held a buoyant smile across his handsome, rugged face. “I am thinking you got away with a small punishment.”
She detected his smile and his genuine spirit. She was forced to return his grin and did so only with a little hesitation, he had broken her nose with the wall, crate, and post he know tapped like a drummer so he did not get the ear to ear smile. “I guess I did get off easy.”
“I am in the mood to celebrate,” he said cupping her ample breast in his hand and finishing his bold move with a long squeeze of her permanently hard nipple. She could not help but shiver and this time it was not fear. He broke your nose, he is trouble, a small voice screamed in her head.
“It will cost you,” she boldly pronounced and tossed her long hair around in an attempt to peak his randy interest. She was a master negotiator. She could talk a babe out of his soother and an old man out of his cane.
He grinned and grabbed both of her nipples, treating them as fleshy leashes as he tugged her back into the darkness. She could not move fast enough to comply. “No it won’t.” His voice held a confident ring in the darkness and she was quite sure there would be no need to fake anything by the time he was done.
“Ok but just this time,” she breathed as he hoisted her with ease and placed her across his shoulder. She usually was a good negotiator but there was something about him that made her forget money.
Jhatison’s apartment was simple but very organized even if it did not have much to crowd it. The guardsman had foregone an actual mattress and had a hammock stretched between two walls in one corner as Little Big Jugs looked back and forth she realized he did not have any furniture.
Little Big Jugs was the ’s street name but to her family it was Twilin, Twilin of Muddy Burrow but that was a long time ago and full way across the known land.
Her tonight had left her in the center of the small room and was putting flint and steel together to lend some light on their eventual celebration. The darkness burst into two different sets of gloomy shadows and she knew it was her cue to lose her orange blouse. Halfling women were jokes of evolution, huge breasts and feet but small hands and little noses. She tweaked her nipples for good measure before taking a full breath and facing the man who was making her skin grow goose bumps. She nearly stepped away from him, he had snuck up on her again and off his clothing had flown while she was sizing up this small abode.
Halflings lived up to their human appointed name and stood at best half the height of their human cousins. The crest of Little Big Jugs’ head barely reached Jhatison’s waist and she was not complaining in the least bit because she had his huge, marvelous tool standing rigid right in front of her eyes. She leaned forward, grabbing with both of her small hands and popped it straight into her mouth. Her race did have large mouths, which worked well because they loved to eat and it worked even better for her on this night because she loved to suck.
“There is no need for that,” he cooed running an ever so tender hand through her hair. His gentle touch was a polar opposite to the rough treatment he had heaped on her face when she had set him up for a fall with the guild thugs. “At least not tonight.”
She nodded regretfully licking it from base to angry tip one last time so that it bobbed slowly up and down pointing straight at her grinning face. It looked like a dew covered tree limb to her and she sneaked another nibble on the bulbous purple head. The taste and aroma was lighting her ablaze in all the right areas and she could take her eyes off it.
He stepped forward and it bopped her in the forehead, his hands came down under her arms and he lifted her up in the air. She squealed with glee, anticipating what he had in store for this celebration and her curvy little frame.
Her , the strong guardsman who did not like to be betrayed, set her down on her back in the hammock with her head dangling over the other side. He spread her chubby legs out wide and hooked them into the hammock so she was pleasantly wide and welcoming to him. His strong hand came down on her chest and he started to mead her hefty breasts like a bakery works over dough, she liked it. His other hand was more utilitarian; splaying her swollen nether lips he dipped a long finger into her warm and juicy hole. Slowly he worked it in and out until he was able to pull it out dripping with her sweet nectar. He used this nectar to smear up and down her flower paying extra attention to her rock hard kernel. His fingertip ran torturous circles around this kernel which was the not to secret source to instant pleasure for a female. She knew now as if there was ever a question that he knew his way around a woman’s fragile body.
Halfling eyes were not large for their bodies but hers were huge saucers of surprise and joy when he slid himself into her. Her internal walls fought the penetration but in the end his huge cock slammed all the way to the bottom of her well. She gasped and arched up to him but this was hard as she was wrapped devilishly into the hammock. Celebration he had promised and a roaring party they were having.
He rocked her back and forth on the hammock with his hands firmly planted on her hips. When he pushed her back so her head would tap into the wall she would beg like a doomed prisoner because the tip of his pink sword would be dangerously close from slipping from the grasp of her convulsing sheath. When he rocked her back toward him she was gasp and lift up from her web, his cock slamming delightfully into the end of her quivering tunnel. Never had she been so truly stuffed and never had she spilled genuine tears of ecstasy, she knew she would feel him and his large tool well into the next day if not the night. The man continued this cycle for the longest time, forcing her over the edge of screaming passion and slowly building her back up only to push her over again. There was no faking in this for her and her essence was flowing freely, freely enough to wash his black curls and run down his muscular legs.
Little Big Jugs pleaded with him to stop but only because she did not know if she could handle another crashing wave of nerve rattling release and it turned out she could not. She moaned and screamed as her body jerked and the darkness caved in. She had passed out.
She awoke lying length wise in the hammock and looked over at him. He was sitting on a blanket on the floor reading by candlelight, his money seemed to have chosen journals and books over furniture. She offered him a weak smile and he returned a content look, he looked so studious with his book lying across his naked lap but still incredibly sexy. She shivered and started a bit in her comfy bed, it felt like he was still inside of her and as she predicted she would feel him long after he was gone. Little Big Jugs hugged herself tightly and was not surprised as she fought silently through her last orgasm of the night. He had not even got close to her.
Just before she feel asleep she thought about buying him a cushioned chair, she would never charge him but she was more than willing to pay for what he did to her on this night.
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Another from 2004
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Posted:Jul 10, 2006 5:45 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
1998 Views
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The ceiling was a masterpiece of interlaced and delicately placed tiles creating a mosaic of incredible detail. Each small square fixed into place with the utmost care and a great touch of love. The tiles were made of ceramic and even colored glass that flickered from the various column candles scattered through the domed room. The candles added to presentation and a flowery taste to the air. The art depicted a forest glade and white washed majestic architecture. Architecture of a caliber only possible from a refined learned race with a deep understanding of complimenting the forests, which surrounded the structures instead of having the trees showcase the magically touched buildings. It was a scene from the book of elves, Teri-Yter, the birthplace of the forest. This was an important scene to all goddess fearing sylvan folk and one held secretively away from humankind. The fear lay in the fact that mankind had a perpetual tendency to destroy anything and everything their simple minds knew about. Various silk scarves hung from points on the wall to connect with the high posts of the bed further creating this impressive vertical gallery.
Jasmine was a human and she stared up at the holy page of forest history but she did not see the tiles because she was focused on a scene floating in space above her eyes. By profession she was a destroyer but the occupant of this small shrine trusted her more than she trusted any living soul. Her companion could not see this new image and it was not just because her gentle muzzle was buried in the human visitor’s muff but also most importantly the image only existed in Jasmine’s mind. Even as her elfin lover and long time friend manipulated her hard fleshy acorn with a serpentine tongue, the warrior dreamed of her Jhatison.
The red haired and always silent man had ushered her roughly into a new phase of her life and her current lover had no idea. Jasmine could not pull herself to tell Stvanli-Oghi she had experienced a man in the most intimate way and she had liked it. Liked it was an understatement; she plum loved it and loved Jhatison just as much. How would she explain the glory given to her by the appendage of the male body that all women of her sway hated out of sheer principle?
Jasmine raised her hips up off the sheets and drove her wild curls deep into the face of the wise and powerful mage. It was not the long delicate nose and furious tongue bumping into her but the massive member of HER Jhatison and his heavy sac tapping into her exposed and taboo lowest opening. She relished it all and grabbed Stvanli by the hair and pulled her closer as she hammered back at her invisible knight in shining armor. The elf did not sense the difference, she was a major player in the political scene of Roc’s Fall and the most distinguished spell caster in the entire city but in her sanctuary of the bedroom she was merely the slave to her dominant curly haired warrior companion.
Jasmine was bent over that mildewed wine cask in the damp cellar. She was on her hands and knees in the meadow outside the cabin. The warrior was half submerged in a cool mountain pond bouncing and up and down and tumbling down in love with HER man. She was everywhere except in the bedroom and the shivering orgasm building in her loins was the only material thing in her reality.
Jasmine was not a heartless killer like her reputation built her up to be. She had feelings and womanly desires. She was even sensitive inside her hard shell. She could not go without telling the woman that had been her only friend for so long and someone who had never asked questions when she spent so many nights on the other side of the city in the apartment of HER man and his odd busty female friend.
Grrrr. Jasmine growled and mouthed a scream to the ceiling. This was not the time or place to fill Stvanli in, not while she was playing her to the brink with so much skill. She would tell her, later but soon before more damage was done.
There was the issue of the chesty bartender. That was an issue she could not put off until later. She was formulating the conversation in her head even as she jerked through a wonderful orgasm. She would not be sensitive in that area. And there was no later for any bitch hemming in on her territory.
Bitch.
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My second book 2004-
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Posted:Jul 10, 2006 5:33 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2016 Views
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The day had broken and all those studious folks were well on their way to their dull jobs in the heart of the city or in the fields surrounding it. Night crawlers and whores will still snoring loudly wherever they ended up. In a city as rough as Roc’s Fall some had reached their resting spot never wake again but whores and thugs were never missed by anyone who mattered.
Jasmine’s yawn awoke her slumber. It was a hearty yawn that sucked a fistful of the pillowed mattress into her mouth. She sputtered and rolled to her back, letting her slowly reviving breasts to jiggle to life in the shaft of sun cutting into the ample bedroom. The two moons wandering back from the depths of slavery and debauchery had sapped her sculpted frame of all its attractive fat and she had looked more like a elf stumbling to the gates of Roc’s Fall instead of the incredible warrior she had the reputation to be. Jhatison, the redheaded youth, had saved her in the swaying sea of the forest and in the gloomy hell of the cellar but she had repaid him gratuitously with her new found lust for the male form. Since returning to the city on the threshold of the mountains she had tried to turn her wiles on other men but had almost thankfully discovered her departure from sole interest in the female body was limited only to her savior.
Jhatison. Oh her chiseled god with the deep intellectual eyes and stamina of an unbridled stallion. She rolled over on to her side and sighed with the sight of nirvana in the folds of the expansive bed. He still wore the reddish beard on his face, a fitting badge of a city guardsman. She felt a sorrow at his rejection at the hands of the coach guild and the following rebuttal of the Silken Veil, had she hurt his fragile male pride by accepting the job with the brothel. A job which had been promised to him to fill at any time but made out of reach by his dropping out of favor of the guild that had silent owners in the Silken Veil. He was a good guardsman and she hoped she was correct in thinking he enjoyed his new occupation.
He had rebounded quicker from near starvation then she had and his broad shoulders now bore taunt, sinewy muscle. His chest had expanded beyond its original dimensions but he had not lost his sleek, hunting cat like stature. She held her tongue in check but her lips had instantly become dry. Her eyes continued down past his flat stomach and his hairy belly button.
His marvelous cock rested on his thigh like a pregnant snake, charming her eyes to a rapid halt. Her tongue flashed out involuntarily and ran across her smile to make it glisten in the light. She could almost taste his salt residue on her broad tongue, his excited essence running across her taste buds and mixing with her saliva. Her lips quivered as her mind painted a portrait of her mouth wrapping around him, his mushroom shaped gland surrendering to the moist depths of her mouth. She knew how to stroke his shaft to make it stand tall and proud like a knight’s imposing lance. She knew how to tickle a purr from his agape mouth with a gentle scratch on the bottom of his heavy sack.
Jasmine crept around on the imported sheets, careful not to rouse him from his well-earned dreams. She moved her mouth along his body but did not touch. Her tongue darted from its cave but did not strike his flesh. She hovered over his pelvis, her kinky hair would not fall and awaken her victim. Jasmine lowered down, ready to suck his massive penis into her mouth.
Jasmine stopped.
She tilted her head slowly and looked across her savior, her trophy of a man. With her mouth wide, she stared into the eyes of the owner of the bed, owner of the posh apartment on the edge of the mercantile district. The beautiful blue eyes were half cloaked in incredibly heavy lash and a threatening smirk. Jasmine looked back to the heavy cock then back to the unsmiling but earthly handsome face of her prize’s guardian. She lowered her own eyebrow in a menacing challenge, a growl was the only thing missing to mark this as the most primal of confrontations. Her hands balled into angry fists on her side of Jhatison but her competition did not move, not even to blink.
Jhatison coughed loudly and flopped over on to his stomach, still deep in a dream of mountains and endless snow. Jasmine backed away dragging one of the sheets to shield her naked body from those piercing eyes. This was far from over but she had to tinkle.
Phora Sprinbook was equally gentle in lifting her tall, hippy frame from the mattress. She also had to tinkle but would shower her downstairs neighbor’s flowers with urine before sharing a chamber pot with the curly headed bitch.
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Same Story 2003
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Posted:Jul 9, 2006 11:33 am
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
1979 Views
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“Want a dance?” She was a great deal shorter than him and on the skinny side but her talent was in high demand throughout the tavern. She was clad in a gossamer outfit similar to the one Xant’l wore but she was topless. A brassiere was useless for her small breasts, which resembled rosy tipped bee stings but they were no less appealing than the heavy chest of Xant’l, the most sought after dancer in the tavern.
“I am flattered but I truly do not have the coin to afford the dance,” there were other reasons but the money explanation was the easiest and most comfortable for the strange woman. Her small hand had cupped the crotch of his pants, a technique almost all the women in Silken Veil used when talking to . He smiled at how special he had felt the first time he had entered through the doors with Nianaknak, having no idea the fondling was a customary practice given to all the gentlemen.
“Oh hush, not a coin needs to leave your possession. This dance is paid in full,” she started walking him toward one of the shadowed alcoves that lined the north wall; he spied a hefty merchant with two dancers in his arms.
“Paid for? By whom?” He had tried to glance back over his shoulders at the occupants of the crowded main room; he did not remember spotting anyone he could even call an acquaintance.
“A gentleman over there,” the dancer pointed, he was unable to see what she was referencing as she ushered him to the darkness and plopped him down on the cushioned bench that ran around the wall.
The girl was aggressive, her hands untying his cord belt and roughly yanking his trousers down to his ankles. He could not find the willpower or even the desire to protest as she attacked his groin from her knees. Small hands moved in unison around the length of his shaft as ruby painted lips encircling the swollen tip. The dancer took him with ease at first but quietly gagged as she kept pushing him further into her mouth, his curly copper hair pressed against her lips in the end as he found himself deep down her throat. She released him slowly from her oral grasp, following her creeping progress with a pair of feverously pumping fists. His proud member popped from her lips and she eyed him seductively before repeating the process. Jhatison remembered making a mental note of tracking down the kind gentleman responsible for this incredible attention and wanting to buy him some ale, the nameless had earned her reputation honestly. The coach boy who had learned the amorous ropes in the arms of his landlord and her cute was amazed at the skill of professional women; even the common chambermaid who had graced his bed on the first night at the Silken Veil possessed a trained prowess with love making. This was his fifth lover in his short life and three of them had come in the past moon so he believed there was still much for him to learn. Jhatison’s reactions had nothing to do with learned behavior and everything to do with instinct. He leaned back against the cushions with his eyes rolling back in his head, his toes were clenched like little fists inside his boots, and he was involuntarily lifting his pelvis up to meet the dancer.
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My First Attempt at Writing in 2003 -
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Posted:Jul 9, 2006 11:26 am
Last Updated:Sep 30, 2006 1:22 pm
1978 Views
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A muffled cry brought his eyes off the pillow and onto the contorted face of his lover; she was a beautiful woman and judging from her youth not much younger than him. Her rounded chin and almond eyes made her look common and would prevent her from rising much higher in her current occupation. The small breasts crushed beneath his own pounding chest could grow but not to the voluptuous size of the bartender or not even close to Xan’tl, he decided she would never make it far beyond her present station but her apparent love for what she was doing made her a degree more beautiful. Her face was covered in droplet of her own sweat and she opened her eyes momentarily to gaze up at him but closed them the second he resumed pounding down into her. The chambermaid filled the small but comfortable room with her whimpers. Jhatison was in the arms of another woman but could not help thinking about the glowing priestess. His mind was wandering again. He attempted to shake the images from his mind but to no avail, the chambermaid’s contorted features were replaced by those of the angelic face of Nianaknak.
The coach boy was embarrassed by his inability to focus on the girl who was giving every ounce of her body to him. He stood, crossed the room in a drunken shuffle, and slumped down on a grand cushioned chair in the corner.
Concern was evident in the chambermaid as she quickly slinked out of the ruffled bed and made her way to her ’s feet. “What is wrong, my lord?”
“There is nothing wrong with you. Your talents amaze me but my mind robs me of sharing this special moment. I fear I disgrace you by thinking of another,” he cradled his head in his hands, unable to meet the wanton eyes of the woman.
The chambermaid’s hand snaked up his muscle calf and eventually coiled around his still hard manhood, his mind was confused but his body was sure of what it wanted. She idly stroked him from base to head, twisting her wrist slowly as she progressed. “I am not naïve in thought, I know I am a release for what you can not yet have. I understand this as it is a dark part of my chosen profession and not something I am going to hold against you.”
“Still, my lady. It is not right,” he felt the touch of her lips and flicker of her tongue. The course skin of her tongue teased the tip of him and slowly bringing a glistening coating to the length of his shaft.
“Imagine your lost love or love yet to capture. I will relish in the pleasure it gives me and the imaginary images it gives you,” she cooed, her speech calm despite her heightened arousal. She was on her feet and straddling him, obliviously set in his own mind, he came back to reality as they joined.
The chambermaid was in control again of their lovemaking and the pace of their carnal dance. She bounced in his lap offering only her back to gaze upon as she ground down with her bottom on his lap. Jhatison floated back and forth from Nianaknak and the young girl in his mind, the bouncing creaking the antique chair and driving him insane in reality. He brought his hands up to rest on her belly, unconsciously forcing her down hard onto his lap. She threw back her head and cried out as she crashed over the edge of bliss, her long hair cascading down his chest as she stared with closed eyes at the ceiling. With the increased stamina and vigor of wine, this promised to continue well beyond dawn.
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Gold No More
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Posted:Jul 8, 2006 11:39 am
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
1870 Views
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Well we let our membership slip so No more viewing profiles but we are going to continue to blog.
This seems like the perfect medium for sharing our sexual adventures and our little fantasies
R and R
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The interview Part Three of Four
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Posted:Jun 19, 2006 8:14 pm
Last Updated:Nov 21, 2006 1:29 pm
1908 Views
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“Now are you ready for your real interview?” The voice was much younger then that of Mr. Shuman and it stopped you in your tracks half way down the hallway to the receptionist and the exit of this fly by night insurance company.
“Excuse me?” You questioned, taking a quarter step backwards so you could peer into an even smaller and darker room then the pathetic office of Shuman. The walls were panel and the carpet was an awful green, this reminded you of a mobile home you had once visited.
“I said, are you ready for your real interview?” A person materialized to go with the mysterious voice. The man was tall and young, almost as tall as me at 6’3” or so and he looked like he was fresh out of college. He was dressed in a polo shirt and some smart but practical khakis, the shirt was tucked into his slacks but not pulled out to hide an expanding waistline like most men do. He was incredibly fit looking with broad shoulders and a torso that looked like an inverted triangle. His chin. His chin was strong and chiseled; he looked like a fucking poster boy for apple pie and Friday night football.
“I think I have had my fill with this place,” you frowned but didn’t move. You were not completely convinced that it was wise to give up on this company so quickly after all. The natural bulge in his pants was encouraging and you would have to get close to truly determine its promise. That was your favorite bitch move at the club, back into a prospective male and cup his cock in your hands or rub your ass on in during some song. If he sized up to what you were looking for that particular night you would continue the very forward inspection but if for any reason it fell short of your expectations you would straighten up and merely walk-away, a stunned man standing alone in your wake.
“I apologize,” he had a crooked smile and sparkly eyes, he stepped forward having you mesmerized like a lethal cobra dancing up out of a wicker basket. “That wasn’t a question or a request.” His hand was intermeshed in your red hair and you were tugged gruffly into the smallish chamber before it even registered on your senses.
Your nostrils caught his strong cologne just before he slammed you face first into the paneling that covered the wall. The surface gave and did not do any permanent damage to your beautiful face but it did force the air out of your surprised lungs. “So here the interview starts.”
Your skirt left your hips and down it went with your panties. You would have complained but his big hand came down hard on your exposed ass before the words left your lips. A squeal left your mouth on contact but that was all as you waited for the next question. The dew of your pussy was trailing down your leg. You were primed.
“Do you take Dick? We don’t care about dictation, just if you can handle a cock!” With that he slammed his pelvis into you from behind, bouncing you off the wall but he had you in his grasps. His hand slapped your ass again but this time it was the other cheek.
“You like that don’t you? Wait wait that wasn’t one of the questions,” his fingers were tracing the already rising welts on your nice booty. “What other things do we require of our little whores around here?”
There was a long pause. DAMN, THROW ME AGAINST THE WALL AGAIN. A belt buckle. YES, GIVE ME THE FUCKING BELT. What you did not hear was the leather implement of stinging pleasure being pulled through clothe loops but not all was lost. A loosened belt and a dropped zipper meant something else. You smiled and would reward the boy for his attempt at being a man.
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The interview Part Two of Four
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Posted:Jun 17, 2006 11:43 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2048 Views
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Mr. Shuman’s high back chair bumped up against the wall just as you reached him. The way he swallowed down his odd fear was intoxicating to you as you planted your knee between his slacked thighs, slightly tapping the stirred flesh beneath. Your manicured nails traced his boring chin down to his overly skinny neck down to the slight puff of salt and pepper hair poking out from underneath his white undershirt.
“You are going to just sit there, right?” You asked quietly, a sultry flavor of honey rolling past your lips with each word. You gently poked his nose with one hand distracting him for the briefest of seconds then grabbing a full hand of his cock through his Dillard’s Father Day special Navy Blue slack.
“Ummm… yes… “, stammered the one time interviewer, stumbling like a faced with his first three hooked bra in the front seat of the K-car at the drive-in theatre. He was sweating making his skin pasty but this was about the act and not the man. Would you call him a man? Only in equipment but not spirit.
Straightening up and drawing back your delicate hand, you slapped the fuck out of him. The blow rocked your wrist and brought a droplet of blood to the edge of his already cracked lip. “You will call me, Ma’am!” Your tone was stern but your volume hardly reached a whisper.
“Yes, Ma’am”
“Good,” you hand went back to his growing bulge and you started to lower yourself to your knees on the plastic covering that people frequently put behind their desks so their cheap ass chairs could roll easier. The plastic hurt your knees but you didn’t let on. Mr. Shuman was following your eyes, there was nothing more important than maintain eye contact. You could imagine him repeating this mantra in his head over and over again. “Look her in the eyes, don’t piss her off.”
The belt came undone. The zipper fell. The slacks came open. You watched him intently with every move. You were a pro on your knees. This was the first place that you had ever felt power in your life over men, on your knees. You were the conductor and everything rose or fell with your whim.
Mr. Shuman’s cock was non-descript and slightly on the smaller size but it fit his body and personality nicely. You drew the tip between your glossy lips and felt his body shudder spastically but he was not all the way hard. You started to bob forward, your tongue working the underside of his cock while you massaged his nuts through his slacks. He started to squirm in his seat, his hand came to the back of your head but you slapped it away. His ass was moving in the seat and he was trying to thrust up from the seat into your mouth but you were controlling the situation like a puppet master. You were torturing this poor soul, you had not taken his cock all the way in although it was obvious to all that you could swallow him to the base with no problem.
“Suck my cock!” He gasped, his fingers digging holes into the arms of his chair. His eyes were rolling back into his comical skull and if you were not careful the salty seed of a middle aged insurance salesman might be flooding your mouth.
You straightened. You hit him hard on the front but the back swing is what spun his head the most. The slap must have echoed down the hall but no one was making a move to come in his defense. “I give the commands, little man!” You barked and not in a seductive whisper this time.
He stared down in fear and you dropped your mouth down around his cock like a chopping block. His penis drove all the way back into your throat until your lips hit the hilt, your hand clamped down on his nuts lifting him from the seat and deeper into your mouth.
“Enough.” You stood, leaving the small flagpole jutting from Mr. Shuman’s pants and unattended. You pulled him forward by the scruff of his collar until your faces were inches apart. He was confused and prepared his lips for a kiss. A growl wiped any idea of a kiss right from his face. “Don’t mistake this kindness and you sure as fuck aren’t getting a kiss. I am going to give you incredibly clear instructions and I want you to follow them to the T. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” He responded like a nervous cadet with a drill sergeant up in his pimply face.
“Good. I am going to stand up and bend over this nasty desk of yours. I want you to get on your feet and fuck me with that cock of yours. I don’t want you to showboat or slow so you can last longer because you aren’t fooling anyone. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can and as long as you can.”
With that you spun around and planted your tits and elbows on his desk, resumes, three days worth of unread newspapers. You heard him fumbling behind you and felt your skirt lifting, his cock slid easily into you from behind but that was no surprise as you were already dripping down your legs. He followed your instructions like a good little and fucked you with all the power and speed he could muster. Behind you there was the huffing and puffing of an exhausted but highly aroused man, none of the fantasies that had floated through his mind through the years could amount to this one incredible moment in his small office except maybe for the threesome idea with his wife and her hot sister in Montana. You weren’t an unsatisfied customer in his throttling, although his shortish cock was doing little to tickle the bottom of your pussy his nuts were smacking against your exposed clit at feverous pace. Maybe it was that or your nipples dragging across the desktop but it was probably you staring at the picture of Mr. Shuman’s wife that brought a small orgasm over you. Your pussy tightened and this set off your insurance man lover, he couldn’t cum like a normal man and had to fall away from you as his pathetic two squirts hit the hem of your black dress then edge of the desk.
“I would have expected more out of you, Mr. Shuman.” You turned and let your skirt dropped back to your ankles as you towered over him. He was lying on the flower next to his fake plant and fit perfectly in with the rest of the fake things in his small office. “And I am really not interested in the job.”
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The interview Part One of Four
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Posted:Jun 17, 2006 10:28 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2024 6:56 am
2077 Views
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You paused slightly mid stride as you navigated the carpeted hallway. Your reflection off an office’s mirrored window had caught your eye and damn you looked good. It was the whole package and not just your newly trimmed and expertly curled red locks. Your smiled which always garnished you compliments was glistening nicely with your cotton candy lip gloss and the white halter that hugged your breasts seemed tailored just for you. The black peasant skirt that swished around your ankles completed your look but it would be unlikely anyone could work past your sparkling blue eyes and provocative smile. The confident bounce in your step and the black leather planner that I given you spelled professionalism and there was little in this world that was going to keep you from getting this job.
With one last breath of calming air, you turned the doorframe and strode directly into Mr. Shuman’s office. His office was at the end of the hallway and one of the halogens was burnt out creating more shadows then lit areas. Not what you would expect from the Market Manager but then again you weren’t terribly clear what that title actually meant. You extended your hand and he accepted your handshake with a weak smile but he did not match your gaze. He was too quick to sit you thought and you took the seat in front of his cluttered desk although it was never offered. His eyes dropped to your resume or you guessed it was your resume, you did not even know what color they were. You were the one interviewing for a unmentioned position but quickly found yourself the one judging the situation.
Mr. Shuman was wearing navy slacks and a button up shirt, no tie and a white undershirt with a weak collar just like his smile and handshake. He was clearly underpaid and over worked, he also did not have enough back bone to manage anything so his title was just fluff like all the Wal-Mart framed certificates lining his walls. His black hair was graying and receding at the same time, a cosmic double whammy to this man’s already fragile ego. He started talking in a rehearsed tone and script but your ear’s never registered a single word. This was a bogus job and you were pissed, you were not a life insurance salesman and your resume on the internet had never hinted at that. You were victim of a desperate man trying to drum up minions for this lousy little company, corporate was leaning on him for recruiting results and he was spamming genuine folks in hopes of snagging one or two out of twenty. You scanned the room, your eyes searching for something to fuel the upcoming storm that was causing tremors in your body. A picture frame, you couldn’t see what picture it held but you were sure that it had a smiling wife and one and half standing in front of a two story house and a white picket fence. That is all the fuel you needed, you switched from interviewee to predator.
“So Miss Jo….”, his words trailed off as his mouth drooped low, interesting enough your half cloaked eyes and knowing grin were enough to stop his tongue in its place. If your look was enough to sidetrack him, he was in trouble. Deep fucking trouble.
“Mrs. and tell me some more about this position.” You trailed your fingertips from your chin down to your neck and even further down the cleavage created by your great bra and the revealing halter. “Something about this job and the adventure behind dynamic sales catches me in a way that is just plum embarrassing.”
“Plum embarrassing?” He echoed. The Deep South angle might have been over dramatic but you quickly redirected his thoughts. You couldn’t have him thinking that you were making fun of him that would just ruin all of this. You dropped your hand between your legs, the black skirt clung to your knees but sagged deeply in the middle. Slowly you pulled back on the garment, more and more of you legs started to glimpse out from under the midnight fabric.
“Continue,” your words were sweet but there was a definite command there. The hem of the skirt reached your knees and he started to explain colorfully the exciting daily life of a life insurance salesperson.
Your mind wisped you away to me. Your hand reached your innermost thigh and the crotch of your already moistened panties. Control and power over the meek fueled a furnace that drove straight to the cover of your sexuality. Your long index finger creased the damp clothe as you pressed through your lips to your clit.
Your mind was wrapped around the image of me fucking you against a bay window on the 15th floor of the Crystal City Radisson, your naked body pressed against the chilled glass.
Your mind was wrapped around me throwing you over the hood of my car in the pitch darkness at the lonely park, your breasts leaving smears on the paint that I wouldn’t wash off for months.
Your mind was wrapped around me spanking your ass until the pain equaled the orgasm rolling over you.
Your mind was wrapped around surrender, obedience, and servitude.
Opening your eyes, you realized Mr. Shuman had stopped talking and was just staring. This might be more than his heart could handle. You had fished your own breast out from under the confines of your halter and were twisting your nipple violently between your pinched fingers; your other hand was rapidly rubbing away.
You took a long look at the Market Manager and smiled, you were my dirty little slave but this was a different ball game. He pushed back from his desk as you rose, retreating but there was no where for this man to run.
There was no measure of how much you despised weak men and it was your silent charter to destroy them.
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To link to this blog (MastrandSlav) use [blog MastrandSlav] in your messages.
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