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My name is Sorren Greyclaw. I am a warrior from a faraway land known as Aeloa. I hail from a small, secluded stronghold called Wynterr, hidden far away in the Wynterreach mountains.
Wynterr is a village steeped in mystery and myths, rumors and tales. We do well to hide ourselves from wanderers and trophy hunters, yet even I could not hide from her.
I do not know her name but she came to me one night. A beautiful, raven-haired goddess. She has a body round and full, ripe like a summer peach. Her hips are voluptuous, her thighs are thick, her breasts are milky white, supple, and plump like freshly kneaded pillows of bread dough. She is clothed in sheer, shimmering gowns, dripping with jewels. Her skin smells sweetly of amber oil, her hair is long and luscious and smells like freesia blossoms. Her mouth tastes like spiced wine; I can still taste her lingering kiss on my starving lips.
I remember the night she came to me. I had just retired for the evening to my sleeping chamber in the Wolf’s Den, the Jarl’s palace. We had just been troll hunting and returned to an evening of feasting and merriment. The ale ran without end and big-bosomed ladies were paraded before us for our pleasure, courtesy of the Jarl.
Sloshing copper tankards clanked together in toasts, platters of roasted pigs, whole chickens, sausages, and meat pies were brought in and laid before us. Bare chested damsels laughed as they hand-fed me and my comrades. I ate and drank my fill, then stood to leave the great hall.
I didn’t feel particularly in the mood to have giggling, little fillies grinding on my lap, their bright, pink nipples in my face. Even the Jarl indulged and sucked the tits of one girl while another knelt before him and sucked his cock.
Normally I partook in these grand feasts after a night of ravenous hunting. I was no stranger to women and their delicious cunnies, but tonight, I just wanted to be alone. I had drunk far too much ale and sought sleep for my weary soul.
I laid my sheathed sword on the bedside table and undressed. The roaring fireplace in my chambers kept me warm enough so I could sleep fully nude. Most people would choose to sleep bundled in furs beneath several quilts in a land where it snows even in the summer, but not I. I am a hotblooded beast and the snow and ice doesn’t really bother me, in fact I quite welcome its chill.
My armor and furs dropped with a loud, heavy thud at my feet, I cast aside my boots and walked, cock in hand, to my bed. The mattress was lumpy and crude, stuffed with hay and downy feathers, but it welcomed my aching muscles all the same. I didn’t bother to pull the quilt up around me, I was content to lay there naked, basking in the toasty glow of the fire’s dancing flames.
Like any other night, my hand was glued to my cock, stroking slowly. The night seemed perfect and cozy other than the fact that I was alone. Alone. Why had I not married yet? The Jarl offered me plenty of peach-cunnied ladies, eager and ready to take my name and bear my sons, each one more beautiful than the next. But I refused them all and there I lay, alone, trying to coax some fantasy into my mind to stiffen my cock. I called to memory every beautiful face I had ever seen, the blossoming bosoms of noble women and servants alike. I even tried to imagine the Jarl’s radiant, fire-haired wife before me; I pictured her often, naked with her rosy nipples and blazing red cunny hair, hungry to suck my cock and ride me into Oblivion. But even the fantasy of Jarl Beyogruf’s wife, Brigga, did pendik escort not erect me that night.
I fondled my flaccid cock, raised it and let it fall again and again and sighed in frustration. I should have taken one of the harlots to bed so I could at least feel a woman on my cock.
I contemplated forgetting the matter altogether and just sleeping. Tomorrow was sure to be a busy day with many arduous tasks ahead of me. There would be other nights to shoot my load into my hand.
Then, I heard a noise. It sounded like the bristling of feathered wings accompanied by the tinkling of jewels. My eyes snapped open and I saw her standing at the foot of my bed. She wore a sheer white gown, I could see her ample breasts through the material, her dark nipples poking against the gown, begging to be free. Her raven black hair fell in loose curls down her back to her wide, round hips and loose curls fell around her neck curling around her breasts. She had gold jewels in her hair, dangling from her ears, draped around her neck, bracelets on both arms, and even around her ankles. Her eyes were the color of sapphires and reminded me of the Jade Sea in southern Aeloa. Her lips were red but not painted, they were just naturally pouty, full, and red as Aeloan apples.
She stood there, staring at my flaccid cock and her lips curled into a delicious smile. I didn’t scramble to hide my nakedness, but I was rather curious to who this woman was and how she got into my locked chambers.
“Who are you?” I asked quietly, still grasping my cock. I couldn’t peel my hand off it as I gazed at her creamy tits that stared back at me through the sheer veil that covered them.
“Sorren Greyclaw, warrior of Aeloa, protector of Wynterr, heralded Thane of Jarl Beyogruf, slayer of trolls, prince of wolves….” her voice was soft and sweet and poured from her lips like mulled cider.
“H-how do you know who I am?”
“I know all about you, Sorren Greyclaw.” she replied with a sultry stare, her glittering eyes bored holes into my soul.
“I watched you slay those trolls today, how brave you are. You are quite the warrior, always ready for a fight, sword in hand….” her tone was playful and her eyes lingered on my cock. It was starting to rise, though still soft. I still did not know the intention of this divine creature and if she intended me harm or pleasure. By the gods I prayed that it was the latter.
“I’ve watched you for some time, Sorren. Since you were but a teen. Such a naughty scamp you were! Always getting into trouble, peeping on the women in the bath house, eager to see them wash their tits and cunnies.” she approached me and traced her fingers down my chest. Her touch was cool and sent tingles down my spine. My cock jumped at the sensation of her jeweled nails on my skin.
“How do you know so much about me when I know nothing about you?” my voice was low and deep, I was certain she could hear the arousal in my tone. She was standing closer and I could see her body better. What a goddess she was! Not slender in the least; she was plump and decadent, full figured and curvaceous. Her body screamed invitations and fantasies in my mind; I wanted to reach out and touch her in the most intimate and naughty of ways. It wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do, but I was no gentleman. I was a warrior.
“Oh, you shall know all about me soon enough, Sorren Greyclaw.” her eyes sparkled with laughter and she traced her hand lower and lower until I felt her fingertips brush over my cock. It leapt to attention maltepe escort and stiffened under her touch. I couldn’t resist any longer and reached out to touch her breasts. She slapped my hand away and my eyes narrowed in quiet anger.
“All in due time, my prince, all in due time.” She cooed as she took my hand and wrapped it around my cock. Her dainty hand seemed so small in comparison with my giant wolf-paw of a hand. Our hands stroked my cock in unison, her hand could not even fully grasp around its thickness.
Once satisfied with the stride of my stroke, she pulled her hand away and slipped it inside of her gown. I could see her reaching down to caress her hairless pussy. Her slender fingers disappeared between her pussy lips and my grip tightened around my hard cock. Her soft moans mingled with the crackling logs in the fireplace and was music to my ears. She lifted her free hand to her breasts and took turns pinching and twisting her erect nipples. Gods how I wanted to taste those nipples and flick my tongue across them. They were so dark, long and fat, with perfectly round and raised areolas.
In an instant, she withdrew her dripping fingers from her pussy and pressed them against my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked them, tasting her sticky, sweet juices. The flavor of her pussy reeled my senses and my stroking grew more rapid. When her fingers were licked clean, she dipped them into her honey pot again so that I could feast on her wet decadence. She drew on my face with her wetness, tracing her fingers down my body and covered my cock in her juices.
“Please, Goddess, my cock throbs and aches for you.” I begged. I needed her to suck my cock. I needed to taste her pussy. I needed to fuck her.
“Oh yes, I can see that you are throbbing and aching for me.” she seemed pleased at my glorious torture.
“Please, Goddess….” I pressed. Gods how I needed her.
She laced her fingers around my cock and slowly lifted her hand up and down along the shaft, “Warriors do not beg, Sorren Greyclaw…” she loosened her grasp and took a step back. She unclasped her gown and it fell around her feet.
I growled with hunger and rose to my feet. I pushed her down onto my humble bed, silently hoping she wouldn’t be repulsed. This goddess deserved cushions of silk and delicately woven tapestries, not a crude bed of straw that smelled like cedar and man sweat.
Her shocked gasp was fuel to my fire and I was in no way careful or gentle. I pushed her honey thighs apart and buried my face in her delicious pussy. My tongued swirled and danced on her swollen clit and her juices flowed like waterfalls around my bearded chin. I drank her in as if I was thirsty and parched. I pushed two of my fingers deep into her pussy and rapidly pressed my fingers on that sweet spot as I grazed her clit with my teeth, ushering a deep growl that I am sure sent shivers down her spine.
She arched her back and her body spasmed and shook as the waves of climax took her under their waters. Her hands held my head against her pussy, her fingers clenched my ebony braids, urging me to not stop.
When I was sure her body had had enough, I pulled away and leaned back on my feet. I grasped my stiff cock and stroked it madly.
“Suck my cock, goddess.” I commanded her in a voice that shocked even me. But she obeyed.
She scrambled to crawl to my waiting cock, and caressed my aching balls. She kissed the tip of my swollen cock, her cool lips tingled against the taut kartal escort and hot, engorged mushroom head. She hungrily licked the sticky liquid that oozed out, the sensation of her tongue flicking my cock made me close my eyes and lift my head to the rafters. I let out a loud moan and fought the desire to force all nine inches of me into her little mouth. But her torturing felt so good and so right.
Slowly, she slipped her mouth around my cock, her lips stretched wide to fit around my thickness. I could tell she was struggling to slide her mouth over me so I took her beautiful head into my hands and pushed. I held her head in place as I pushed my cock deeper into her mouth until I could feel the tip pushed against her throat. I held her head there and looked down into her eyes. They glistened wet with tears and dew drops rolled down her cheeks. I pushed further, feeling my cock slide deeper, my gaze never broke from hers. I knew it hurt her, but she didn’t pull away. Her throat quivered and her eyes watered, but she never tried to pull away. After a few moments of holding my cock deep in her throat, I pulled it out of her mouth, ropes of saliva connecting my cock and her tongue. She kept her hungry mouth open and leaned forward to take my cock into her mouth again. I growled and thrusted madly into her mouth. My thrusts were brutal and her throat made delicious sounds, inviting me into her again and again.
I could feel my seed rising, like ocean waves in a tempest seeking to splash overboard onto a ship.
“I need release, my goddess….” I groaned through gritted teeth.
She pulled away and looked up at me with sultry eyes, “On my breasts.” she said in an anxious whisper.
She leaned back and presented her lovely breasts. Her hard, erect nipples were begging to be drenched in my seed.
I stroked wild and fast and let out a loud groan as my cock shot rope after rope of creamy seed onto her waiting breasts. I waited for the spasming climax to subside and for my twitching cock to drain itself.
I looked down at my masterpiece of her splattered breasts. They looked so wonderful covered in my essence.
She lifted a finger and dipped it into my seed and brought it to her lips. She licked her finger and moaned.
“My, my, Sorren Greyclaw, how wonderful you taste.” she laughed and stood up.
I collapsed onto the bed and watched as she bent over to don her gown. I was enraptured and spellbound, watching her dress, her gown clinging to her wet breasts.
“Goddess… who are you?” I needed to know who she was.
“We will meet again, Sorren Greyclaw.” She smiled and in a flash, she disappeared from before my eyes in a flash and wisp of white smoke. I could hardly believe it.
For a moment, I thought I was dreaming but I looked down to my now flaccid cock and saw the wet curls and pool of my essence that had oozed out. She was real. I felt her, I saw her. I licked my lips and tasted her juices still on my lips. She was real.
I had to find her again. This woman, this goddess who knew so much about me. How could she have seen me all my life? Who or what was she?
All I knew is that I was hopelessly enthralled and spellbound by her. I tasted her and I cannot forget her flavor. I must find her again. Whatever it takes.
My journey takes me all over Aeloa. I have left the snowy mountains of Wynterreach and roam the fjords and valleys, searching for my goddess, hoping she will come to me again. I lie awake at night and masturbate under the stars, remembering her being there in my chambers, sucking my cock and draining me of my seed.
I will not give up, I will not stop searching for my goddess. For, I don’t even know her name, all I can call her is ‘my goddess’. But I will find her, and she shall be mine.