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Thread: The Warrior

  1. #46
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    Wow, Messalina, you got me beat in the rambling department :P but yeah, I also don't believe that a marriage is often meant to be equal, tho it can be. I think one person is a natural leader in the household, and the other one is their 'rock' or 'port in the storm'. My own family demonstrated that to me, with mom being the rock and dad being the leader, tho they would switch roles depending on the job of course (dad always ruled in the house :P)

    you certainly hit the nail on the head about her finding something different! her general experience with sex was almost that of a ra-pe, tho who is doing the initiating is up for debate. the only analogy i can think of is cat sex, its angry, its messy, its painful and theres almost always a lot of blood! lol. but yeah, shes never encountered anyone else like this. in this respect shes a bit sheltered, hasnt seen a whole lot of the world outside of the messy business she's in.

    Mostly my fetishes also deal exclusively in fantasy (at least that which i seek out online!) tho i admit to a guilty pleasure of the brutality and unconcerned meanness of some of the other stories, but i always feel...angry or ashamed after reading them. even tho theyre fictional characters, something feels wrong about taking pleasure out of someones misery/pain. but theres a whole different kettle of fish

    more ramblings! but i should be done now

  2. #47
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    Rambling is awesome, especially when it's done by, and about, people who are themselves complete humans and not bizarre crazed caricatures.

    Messalina, Precis, you're awesome.

  3. #48
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    hey, i take great pride in being bizarre and a bit crazed! but seriously thanks, im rather enjoying this discussion!

  4. #49
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    Quote Originally Posted by Precis Girl View Post
    hey, i take great pride in being bizarre and a bit crazed! but seriously thanks, im rather enjoying this discussion!
    It is interesting! As you're not happy with formatting, you could use styles in your word processor, though I don't know if this site can show them.
    As for your story, I'm enjoying it! My interest in ball busting is entirely as a part of a fight between men and omen. The nature of your story, especially the two main characters, is different from most ball busting tales, and I wonder if the fact that you're female means you come to it from a different perspective than us men. Though on the issue of the woman being portrayed as brutal in male authored ball busting tales, I'd add that I've had correspondence with a number of ladies on the subject of f/f fights, which in all cases bar one have been with a woman who sees herself as the loser, and their fantasies have been pretty violent. This is something that could be discussed at length, but the difficulty is you never know how representative those whose thoughts and fantasies you see are of the population, or even of those into a particular fetish.
    Anyway, that's enough rambling for now. Keep up the good work, as long as you're enjoying writing the adventures of the Warrior. It's certianly causing enjoyment here!

  5. #50
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    thanks, try! as far as formatting goes, its great when i write it, and when i save it, but when i try to post it here or on my blogspot page, all formatting just goes out the window. what a pain! as far as the other women being portrayed as brutal, I dont mean any offense against other authors and their stories, just that the brutality is not for me. for example, tho i did enjoy Mythical Pain's stories about the older cub and the younger girl lion (i think, and hope that is you MP!), I can't help but think, "if I were in the male's shoes after such a sadistic display, I'd have no problems sneaking into her room at night and whaling on her with a baseball bat and then trying to flee the city (or whatever the scene they're in)" to me, that kind of brutality begs for a similarly brutal response and so, I cant see the story ending without multiple murders or something to that effect happening. But hey, its supposed to be a stroke story, so I try not to bring too much realism into it lol. However, thats why I prefer to write longer stories. i love to explore not only the actual event, but also the reaction to it. I try to see what a person would do afterwards, and if there is too much violence on one end, then all i can see is darkness ahead. geez now i feel like a fool for ranting like this! no offense to anyone, especially you Mythical Pain, I really do love your stories!

  6. #51
    Supreme Poster Messalina's Avatar
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    Hi Precis,

    In my family growing up, circumstances often dictated who, played which role. Though by and large, da seemed quite content (most days) to allow mum to be the "heavy".

    "A ra-pe" is a sorry introduction to sex. "Cat sex," <shivers> "In this respect shes a bit sheltered, hasnt seen a whole lot of the world outside the messy business she's in."... how interesting. So, the wayward lad might teach our Warrior, a few things? I like the idea, of him not being a hardened brute or career marauder. Once again, thank you for presenting non stereotypes as central characters!

    You are a cheeky lass. Piquing my curiosity re;"At least that which I seek out online!)"! My "Guilty pleasure" involves some of the fiction in which, betrayed wives deal (cruelly) with "cheating husbands". As with you; "But i always feel...angry or ashamed after reading them."

  7. #52
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    That is hilarious Messalina! one of my own guilty pleasures is a very similar thing, except its betrayed husbands dealing cruelly with cheating wives! I'm pretty masochistic, so of course, I love being tortured thru very well written stories of cheating wives lol. And about the ra-pe, its not an introduction, thats pretty much how they always do sex! its just a really brutal society and it just so happens that the women are just as ruthless sexually as the men. Probably not the healthiest society

  8. #53
    Supreme Poster Messalina's Avatar
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    Hello there,

    How are you? I hope all is well with you and yours. As to your comment; I hereby affirm the response of Precis Girl. I believe the appropriate "Americanism" is; "What she said!

    Thank you, for being sweet.

  9. #54
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    Hello Precis,

    Seems, we have a number of similar kinky interests.<giggles> I do not possess a large masochistic aspect to my personality. However, it is there.lol I do seem to enjoy women using men, to punish their enemies. Example; a young abused girl (think Anne Hathaway, THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA), putting some snobbish matriarchal bitch (think Meryl Streep, same film) in her place. By means of ******* her to service, some "peasant". In other words, an ordinary working stiff. The kind of person whose mere presence, she would never likely even acknowledge, in an ordinary setting.

    Yes, this was my point. She was probably introduced to sex that way. So, what we likely consider ra.pe, is fairly normal to her. Example; a man from one clan (or tribe) smiles at a woman from another. She smiles back and or says, some nice words. He grabs her and proceeds to have his way with her. It is (likely) fairly violent, as she was probably not expecting such activity, at that precise moment. In current American (and a good deal of European) society, this would be considered sexual assault. However, in your heroine's society probably not.

    It is likely your warrior's introduction to sex, was in similar vein. You describe brutality, as the norm in her society. My personal reaction to that, stands! I happen to think violence, is a sad way for someone to enter into the world of sex.

    "Probably not the healthiest society"... is a gross understatement!

  10. #55
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    ha, I also like that scene as you described! but then i have a bit of the cuckquean fetish in me, so thats probably natural. and yes its true about the society's way of sex, except that in a similar fashion, the women are just as likely to be the ones doing the grabbing! In this vein, I'm sure my warrior is the one who initiated her first sexual experience, rather than be the one grabbed!

  11. #56
    Supreme Poster Messalina's Avatar
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    Hello there,

    We do seem to possess some interesting kinks.<giggles> You have named another of my very personal fetishes.<more giggles> Touche re; your protagonist's aggressive sexual nature and likely first sexual encounter! Would the appropriate "Americanism" response be, YEA, P.USSY POWER!??

  12. #57
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    That sounds about right lol. Or "I have the pussy, I make the rules!"

  13. #58
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    Wow....I love it! Great male vs female story.....

  14. #59
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    Chapter 5

    Aaaand here it is, the long awaited chapter 5! After all the buildup it will probably fall flat lol. but here's hoping i still got it feedback please, i thrive on your comments


    Chapter 5


    The very next morning, she cleaned their camp and packed it all, watching her boy out of the corner of her eye. Even as damaged as he was now, he tried to clean up, but she could see the winces as he bent over, hear the groans as he walked. She felt pride that he still made the effort, but she also felt concern that he was still so injured. Still, she was no stranger to a male's pride and so she pretended not to hear or see his pain.

    When they had finished their morning preparation, she stood in front of him and asked, "What is your name?"

    "I am called Cyril." he pronounced, an odd and endearing mixture of dignity and humility. He hesitated before asking her, shyly, "And you are?"

    "My name is Tamarantha." She returned, giving him a smile. "Now that the introductions are out of the way, we need to continue moving. I don't want any more surprises on our journey." He nodded his understanding.

    They gathered the supplies they needed, Tamarantha carrying the bulk of it. They set off, her keeping a slow pace in consideration for her boy's bruised genitals. As they walked, she began a conversation, striving to learn more about him.

    "Why were you out here? It's obvious you can't fight. You have no experience. So why are you out here robbing innocent people?" she asked abruptly. He blushed, embarrassed both at her thoughts on his fighting prowess and at what he had tried to do to the woman who was now his keeper.

    "Well...I was recruited by that woman you killed, Rosella. She...I was a noble in the city of Gil Galad, until things fell apart. We were attacked in the night and they killed my family. I was lucky and got away, but I didn’t have anything. I didn’t know how to live like that so when Rose found me, it was like a dream come true. She taught me at least how to survive, but then she said we needed more. She set this whole thing up. She saw you when you were in Ciren and we were able to stay ahead of you and set up this ambush.” Cyril gulped as he told her their plans, he realized now that this was even more despicable than she had said it was.

    She smiled at him and said, “I’d hardly call that an ambush. Either she wanted you dead, or she didn’t care if you died. My guess is that she considered this a win-win situation; if you had succeeded, then you were good enough to be a part of her little bandit outfit, and if you died, then she and her gang could take me soon after. The only thing that bothers me is the time. They should have gotten to us the same day, but they left us alone. Why?”

    Cyril shrugged and said, “I don’t know. She told me that I could handle you, and we would meet later. Maybe she had another person to take care of?” He started looking a little green. For the first time since he had been chased out of his home, he began thinking of other people and he was ashamed to be associated with Rose and her group of thieves.

    “I’m sorry!” he said abruptly, staring at the ground.

    Tamarantha stopped walking and stared at him. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” She asked.

    “How can you even let me live after what we had planned for you?! Why are you so nice to me?!” Cyril cried out, distressed. He felt horrible, not a fit member of society, certainly not the man of elevated station he was supposed to be. He looked back up at her pleadingly.

    She stared at him, for a moment uncomprehending his outburst. Then she realized how guilty he felt. “Before I knew anything about you and your past, I thought you were just a poor kid who got into a bad situation. Your story did little to change that opinion, and I think, with a little correction, you will be a good person. I punished you, did I not?” She asked, brushing the back of her hand against his groin and giving him a playful little smile.

    Cyril flinched back from the contact and the memory of his punishment and blushed. “Yes. I am in no hurry to be corrected again!” he couldn’t look her in the eyes and stared down at the ground.

    “Well, I am the wronged party, so I decided the punishment, I carried out the punishment, and you took it without complaint. Too much complaint, anyhow. So now I have the option to forgive you, and so I have.” Her voice was dry, businesslike, but her eyes were soft and held concern for him.
    They stood there, with a tender moment passing between them, until she noticed and roused herself before she made a fool of herself...again.

    ************************************************** ************************************************** ****

    She grinned slightly as she thrust her knee up into his exposed testicles again. He cried out in pain again and fell to his knees. He’ll learn, she thought.

    She had been training him all day in the finer points of hand to hand combat but, no matter how many times she tried, she was unable to break him of his habit of over protecting his groin. Finally, she stumbled on the solution: imprint on him that his genitals were even less safe if he spent too much focus on protecting them. With that in mind, she began attacking him again, going for the face exclusively, and waiting for him to bring his guard up. When he refused to allow both hands up that high, she finally got fed up and threw a hard jab into his face hard enough to make him raise both hands to his face, and then she pounded his poor jewels.

    She didn’t enjoy hurting him, as vulnerable as he was, but she knew firsthand the value of pain as a learning tool. She did, however, enjoy watching him overcome his pain and return to their training with renewed fire in his eyes.

    This time, the sixth time she had tried and failed to make him keep his guard up, she bashed his orbs much harder than she had intended, a byproduct of her frustration. He crumpled at her feet with a cry of agony and curled into a miserable ball. Immediately, she felt remorseful for losing her temper and anger at herself for her failure as a teacher.

    Tamarantha bent over and gently patted him on the back. “Let’s take a break.” She said, as she sat down next to him and pulled his head into her lap. She stroked his hair absently as she thought of how best to inform him of his mistakes. When he had quieted down and released his full body clench she gently tilted his face towards hers.

    “You need to have a full body awareness of threats, little one, not just down here.” she patted his groin very lightly, watching with sadness as he flinched and tried to cover up. “So, to help you develop this, I’m going to make you a promise. I will not attack your groin during these sessions at all, no matter how open you leave yourself-” she watched his face light up, and sighed as she knew this next part was going to frighten him. “-unless you try to protect your groin. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

    His face went white as she told him the terms of her promise. He nodded with a bitter look on his face and turned his head away from her. Tamarantha grabbed him and slowly turned his head back to her and she looked deep into his eyes.

    “I am not doing this to try and hurt you, I’m trying to train you!” she said forcefully, wanting him to believe her. He looked troubled but swallowed and nodded.

    ************************************************** ************************************************** ****

    “Good!” She said, striking at his face as he blocked it. The training had finally gotten through to him and he was beginning to have a better body awareness. Time to throw something unexpected at him, she thought, and launched a hard standing kick at his knee.

    He dropped his torso forward and used his hands to seize her by the foot. With a grunt he yanked her leg up and flipped her off her other foot. She was surprised by his maneuver, not expecting this fairly sophisticated move from him at this stage in his training. Caught off guard, she toppled over onto her bottom. She bounced back onto her feet with a wide grin as she approached him.

    “Perfect!” she shouted in glee. She had expected him to fold up and protect his manhood, but he really had been listening to her! In her jubilation, she grabbed his head and kissed him with a great smacking smooch on the lips, then she broke contact and stepped back, her eyes bright and energetic with passion at her breakthrough.

    Cyril froze at the contact, frightened but aroused. When she withdrew, he impulsively stepped forward and recaptured her lips with his, kissing her with a forceful passion he had never felt before. He felt her sigh as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue in her mouth, and emboldened by her lack of retaliation, he raised his hand to cup her breast. It was a glorious moment, feeling her firm but pliable breast in his hand, and he felt a surge of lust and love for her - a split second before her knee came thundering up and hammering his still-aching testicles.

    Tamarantha was astounded at his boldness when he kissed her, and she sighed longingly into the kiss. His kiss was so very gentle, almost innocent in its timidity.. Even his tongue in her mouth felt so innocent, like he had never done this before and she almost smiled at his chastity. However, the moment she felt his hand on her breast, she immediately retaliated, a natural reflex for her being groped in a non-sexual situation (for the kiss was so innocent, she wasn’t turned on in the way she would normally have been if a man had ****** his kiss on her). Her knee rose and nailed him in the groin and she felt the expulsion of air into her mouth as he gasped at the pain. He sunk to his knees in front of her as she gaped at her own mistake.

    ************************************************** ************************************************** ****


    “I said I was sorry!” she whined at Cyril as they trudged along. Tamarantha heard the whine in her own voice and cringed inwardly at it. When had she become so soft?

    She was following behind him, partly because she was letting him lead in a subconscious effort to allow him his manhood back, but also so she could keep an eye and ear out for trackers. She was watching for signs of ambush when she heard him whisper something that escaped her. She turned back to him.

    “What did you say?” she asked softly.

    “Why did you do that to me?” he asked her in a whispery voice. “What did I do wrong?” He sounded forlorn.

    “You didn’t do anything wrong! Do I look like the kind of person who apologizes when I don’t mean it?” She asked, somewhat annoyed. He shook his head but kept his head down and his eyes pointed at the ground. “It was my fault. You see…” she sighed. This would take some explaining.

    “This is going to take some time, let’s find a place to sit.” She said and pointed to an outcropping of rocks and trees. He nodded and they began walking toward it. While they walked, she thought about what to say, and began talking to him.

    “My culture is not as soft as the people around here are.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand in the direction of the city they had come from.

    “We...we prize fighting spirit as well as prowess, and from the age we can walk, we’re taught how to wield weapons and how to fight with them, and without them. We all get into fights as children and those fights can leave us badly hurt sometimes.” Her eyes took on a distant cast as she thought back to her own childhood.

    “When it comes to...sexual...interactions, we’re forceful, we take what we want and if the person being taken doesn’t want it, they fight back. I didn’t expect your kiss-” she was interrupted as he blurted out, “But you kissed me first!

    She blushed. “Yes, but it wasn’t meant as sexual. I was excited that I had finally gotten through to you! And when you kissed me back, it was so gentle...so tentative...that I didn’t feel anything sexual in it. But when you touched my body, instinct took over. I wasn’t feeling sexual, so, of course I didn’t want to be taken!” She stopped when she noticed the look in his eye. He looked devastated, almost heart broken.

    “What?” She asked, perplexed at his look.

    “No...nothing.” he stammered, too embarrassed to tell her that his kiss was as passionate as he had ever felt.

    They arrived at the rock outcropping and they seated themselves. Tamarantha took a quick scout around, before drawing her sword and placing it across her knees, as she sank down, cross-legged on her chosen rock. Cyril sat himself down rather gingerly, not eager to cause any unnecessary bumps and bruises.

    Tamarantha took out her sharpening stone and began running it along the edge of her blade, both a force of habit and a tic she had when nervous. She kept her eyes to her blade as she began talking again.

    “You are so...different from any of my people!” She colored as she said this, stubbornly not looking up. “The men of my culture are big and warlike, as are the women. I was the runt of my family. My brothers and sisters are over a head taller than I. Thus, I was tested every day, from those who believed I was unfit to be a warrior, and those looking to fight a lesser opponent as practice. I learned fast, and I grew up to be faster and stronger than those around me. I take no prisoners. I do not deal in mercy. Why did I save you? I don’t know.”

    She continued to talk, and Cyril was perceptive enough to realize she wasn’t even talking to him, but rather to herself. He understood that she had encountered a dilemma in her life and was trying to work it out.

    “When I first saw you, you looked pitiful, a child wandered away from his mother and playing at fighting, fully expecting his mother to arrive and protect him from whatever trouble he had found.” Her analogy was apt enough to make Cyril blush. Hadn’t he expected Rosella to help him out?

    “I should have killed you. You are not a child, and you knew the consequences of your actions. If it had been anyone else, I would have run you through with my blade without a second thought.” she said absently. She tested the edge and, satisfied with it, she put the stone away, and grabbed a vial of liquid and a rag from her bag. She then withdrew a small saucer and dumped the liquid in it. Dipping the rag into the liquid, she began rubbing her sword down, polishing it almost lovingly. She did all this distractedly, from long habit.

    “But, there is something about you. Even now I don’t know what truly spared your life. But after I began your punishment, I noticed that, though you do not have a warrior’s body or skill, you do possess a great warrior’s spirit. Even beaten down as you were, you rose up. You only quit because I am an expert at causing pain. I am glad you submitted. I did not want to hurt you more.” She looked up briefly into his eyes, before returning to her polishing.

    “You are nothing like my people, except that you do not surrender. You are gentle. This is very new to me. I have met gentle people before but never truly interacted with one before. You scare me.” She had continued to talk in a troubled, preoccupied tone, but when her last words were spoken her eyes widened in horror. With an effort she smoothed out her face and looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

    Cyril heard her declaration and looked up, startled, and saw her reaction. He smiled briefly before using his only real skill, his diplomacy. “Why do you polish your weapon?” he asked, trying smoothly to divert the conversation to save her embarrassment. “It looks clean enough to me.”

    She smiled and hefted her weapon, pointing it at him and staring along the blade edge into his face. “The oils protect against rust. Blood and sweat from humans decay a weapon fast if left untended. I do not want my weapon broken or dulled by lack of maintenance.” She withdrew her sword and placed it back into the scabbard with a loud click.

    “Are you able to travel more?” She asked, her eyes dropping briefly to his groin. He nodded, blushing.

    “Then let us be off. If we are lucky, we can reach that small copse of trees and have shelter.” Tamarantha pointed off at the horizon. Cyril looked at the distance and flinched. Every step chafed his groin, and the bouncing caused his orbs to ache. But he nodded and they set off.

    ************************************************** ************************************************** ****

    They did make it to the trees by nightfall, but Cyril was in a bad way by then, bent nearly double at the pain in his groin. Tamarantha, worried for his health, immediately set up the camp and told him to rest, as she scouted out some berries and ferns that, when mashed up, would make a rudimentary topical analgesic. She returned, and shortly had a paste that she took to Cyril.

    “What is that?” he asked dully, only really aware of it when she thrust it in his face.

    “It is a salve to soothe your pains. It will help you with your injuries.” She replied, smiling at him tentatively.

    “I am fine!” he said gruffly, embarrassed at his weakened state, especially after her description of the men of her society. He did not want to seem weak to her.

    “No, you are not! Lie down, and I will apply this to you, since you don’t want to do it yourself!” She said indignantly. I went to all the trouble to make this for you, you damn well better use it! she thought.

    Cyril looked horrified at the suggestion and tried to take the salve from Tamarantha, but she was having none of it. She pushed him down with one arm and told him to loosen his belt. One look at her face and he was too afraid to disobey her and he undid his belt with trembling fingers. She tugged his pants down around his knees and surveyed his groin. The damage looked to be less severe than before, the swelling down quite a bit, and the bruising even looked somewhat lighter. They were still red and chapped, though. She smiled, looking at his manhood again.

    It always looks so harmless, it really does look appealing. She thought, before seeing his eyes on her and quickly wiping the smile from her face. She blushed brightly and quickly gathered up a palmful of the salve and smeared it on his genitals. She spread it along his thighs as well, and onto his penis and above. She could not stop the grin from resurfacing as his penis sprang into an erection at her ministrations. She placed extra salve on the sack itself, hoping to alleviate the pain. She then wiped her hands clean and slowly worked his pants back up into place.

    Cyril tried to will himself not to have an erection as she oh-so-gently rubbed his manhood, but he failed miserably. He looked away, not wanting to see her critical eye upon his meager goods. He had always known he was a small man down there, but after hearing of her warrior culture, he could only imagine that whatever they had between their legs was far superior to his own.

    “Get some rest, Cyril. That salve will work on you through the night. By tomorrow, you should be well enough for more travelling.” She said briskly, trying to sound casual.

    Cyril turned onto his side and lay there, hoping she wouldn’t say any more. Eventually, though, his conscious got the better of him and he whispered, “Thank you.”

    Tamarantha, also lying down, waiting for sleep to take her, heard it and smiled in the darkness.

    ************************************************** ************************************************** ****

    Cyril lay on his side, curled into the fetal position, groaning as waves of pain caused his stomach to knot in cramps, the groans low and guttural, only easing as the pain receded. Then he would take a deep breath before the next wave would hit and he would groan again.

    Tamarantha watched him helplessly from her bedroll. She couldn’t think of much to do, a warrior would want to be left alone to deal with pain. A memory came to her of being sick as a child, crying out in pain and discomfort. Her father, a great big brute of a man, was lying next to her in bed, stroking her back calmly, as he held her to him. Even through the pain of her fever, she felt safe in his arms and was comforted.

    As the memory faded, she knew what to do. She got up silently, and padded over to him, easing back his covers and sliding in behind him. He groaned again and turned his head to see what was going on but she turned his head back firmly but gently with one hand as she pulled the covers back over them. She placed one arm around him and slowly stroked from his chest to his stomach, gently. She felt him relax a little but then another cramp struck and she felt his belly muscles turn stony. She kept her hand on his stomach, massaging it with firm pressure as the cramp eased. She held him until she heard his breathing even out and he dropped to sleep. She went to move away, but she rather enjoyed feeling him in her arms, small and fragile. Unable to help herself, her hand drifted lower, easing into his pants and cupping his swollen genitals. She wondered at her own fascination with him and his manhood. As she pondered, sleep crept up on her like a thief in the night, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

  15. #60
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    Great, as always!

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