PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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Express yourself.....
- Thread starter PattiJolene
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Grntmb
Literotica Guru
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just wish it wouldn't crush me so badly every time I show my soft side
Grntmb
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PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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papadoc19
Good at keeping secrets..
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PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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jameslewis
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PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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HayleyLuvsSex
Accountant/Stripper
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Lol @ the red one. Can't even tell what's going on there. Kind of looks like one is performing CPR on the other
PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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pfflyerhot
Pussyfooting around...
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Sundayschild
Regulator of funkiness
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PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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papadoc19
Good at keeping secrets..
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PattiJolene
Enjoying Myself
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from top left,:
Oral, Missionary, doggy
Reverse cowgirl, (not sure what its called, but its two people looking at each other), cowgirl
jameslewis
Literotica Guru
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When people ask me "Which is more important, food or love?'
I never answer them.
Because I'm eating.
I never answer them.
Because I'm eating.
pfflyerhot
Pussyfooting around...
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pfflyerhot
Pussyfooting around...
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BlackCashmere
Kindness begets Kindness
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I really love this thread...
BlackCashmere
Kindness begets Kindness
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jameslewis
Literotica Guru
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of the deathwatch of Rhaugh
“In yon box is a gift from the mage, to be used at this time. It is a rod fashioned of magic. Macros left it so that when I die no bones will be left for scavengers to pick over. Wilt thou bring it here?”
Dolgan went to the indicated chest. He opened it to discover a black metal rod lying upon a blue velvet cloth. He picked up the rod and found it surprisingly heavy for its size. He carried it over to the dragon.
The dragon spoke, his words nearly unintelligible, for his tongue was swollen. “In a moment, touch the rod to me, Dolgan, for then will I end.”
“Aye,” said Dolgan, “though it will give me scant pleasure to see your end, dragon.”
“Before that I have one last thing to tell. In a box next to the other is a gift for thee, dwarf. Thou mayest take whatever else here pleaseth thee, for I will have no use for any of it. But of all in this hall, that in the box is what I wish thee to have.” He tried to move his head toward Tomas, but could not. “Tomas, thanks to thee, for spending my last with me. In the box with the dwarf’s gift is one for you. Take whatever else pleaseth thee, also, for thy heart is good.” He drew a deep breath, and Tomas could hear it rattle in his throat. “Now, Dolgan.”
Dolgan extended the rod and lightly touched the dragon on the head with it. At first nothing happened. Rhuagh said softly, “It was Macros’s last gift.”
Suddenly a soft golden light began to form around the dragon. A faint humming could be heard, as if the walls of the hall reverberated with fey music. The sound increased as the light grew brighter and began to pulse with energy. Tomas and Dolgan watched as the discolored patches faded from Rhuagh’s scales. His hide shone with golden sparkle, and the film started to lift from his eyes. He slowly raised his head, and they knew he could again see the hall around him. His crest stood erect, and his wings lifted, showing the rich silver sheen underneath. The yellowed teeth became brilliant white, and his faded black claws shone like polished ebony as he stood upright, lifting his head high.
Dolgan said softly, “Tis the grandest sight I’ve ever beheld.”
Slowly the light grew in intensity as Rhuagh returned to the image of his youthful power. He pulled himself to his full, impressive height, his crest dancing with silver lights. The dragon threw back his head, a youthful, vigorous motion, and with a shout of joy sent a powerful blast of flame up to the high vaulted ceiling. With a roar like a hundred trumpets he shouted, “I thank thee, Macros. It is a princely gift indeed.”
“In yon box is a gift from the mage, to be used at this time. It is a rod fashioned of magic. Macros left it so that when I die no bones will be left for scavengers to pick over. Wilt thou bring it here?”
Dolgan went to the indicated chest. He opened it to discover a black metal rod lying upon a blue velvet cloth. He picked up the rod and found it surprisingly heavy for its size. He carried it over to the dragon.
The dragon spoke, his words nearly unintelligible, for his tongue was swollen. “In a moment, touch the rod to me, Dolgan, for then will I end.”
“Aye,” said Dolgan, “though it will give me scant pleasure to see your end, dragon.”
“Before that I have one last thing to tell. In a box next to the other is a gift for thee, dwarf. Thou mayest take whatever else here pleaseth thee, for I will have no use for any of it. But of all in this hall, that in the box is what I wish thee to have.” He tried to move his head toward Tomas, but could not. “Tomas, thanks to thee, for spending my last with me. In the box with the dwarf’s gift is one for you. Take whatever else pleaseth thee, also, for thy heart is good.” He drew a deep breath, and Tomas could hear it rattle in his throat. “Now, Dolgan.”
Dolgan extended the rod and lightly touched the dragon on the head with it. At first nothing happened. Rhuagh said softly, “It was Macros’s last gift.”
Suddenly a soft golden light began to form around the dragon. A faint humming could be heard, as if the walls of the hall reverberated with fey music. The sound increased as the light grew brighter and began to pulse with energy. Tomas and Dolgan watched as the discolored patches faded from Rhuagh’s scales. His hide shone with golden sparkle, and the film started to lift from his eyes. He slowly raised his head, and they knew he could again see the hall around him. His crest stood erect, and his wings lifted, showing the rich silver sheen underneath. The yellowed teeth became brilliant white, and his faded black claws shone like polished ebony as he stood upright, lifting his head high.
Dolgan said softly, “Tis the grandest sight I’ve ever beheld.”
Slowly the light grew in intensity as Rhuagh returned to the image of his youthful power. He pulled himself to his full, impressive height, his crest dancing with silver lights. The dragon threw back his head, a youthful, vigorous motion, and with a shout of joy sent a powerful blast of flame up to the high vaulted ceiling. With a roar like a hundred trumpets he shouted, “I thank thee, Macros. It is a princely gift indeed.”
