Veroe
Maestro/Truthseeker
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2009
- Posts
- 63,401
IC: Lorellei Morrigan
She pulled off of him and spat the remains of the ice cubes back into the glass before turning back to him. "I warned you I could be cold, Toirnea."
She picked up the cock ring and began sliding it into place around the base of his cock and pulling each of his testicals into one of the other smaller rings. "There. Now we can begin getting you back up to full speed."
"I rather doubt that's the kind of cold you were referring to, though I have a very practical side that has inspired plenty of fear," he muttered gruffly. "Never going back there if I can help it,"
She lay down curling up sensually next to him as he morosely commented in old Danish about his experiences fighting the Taliban. He drifted off in thought dwelling in past wars and Lorellei sighed. She'd seen the signs of this kind of melancholy in lifelong warriors far too many times. It was called post traumatic stress disorder now in this modern age, but in truth it was an age old ailment.
There was no cure, in her experience. The only thing that came close was living life, embracing it. Exorcising the ghosts clouding the mind and heart, and nothing accomplished that like fucking someone else until you could not fuck anymore. To glory in the act that was so much the opposite of war and death and destruction.
Fingers trailed up his muscular body. Whispering in his ear she whispered, "Now I want you to reach down and take hold of your cock."
The pad of her thumb teased one of his nipples. "Good. Now stroke, Toirnea. Up. Down. Make it hard for me to ride again, but slowly. I want to watch and enjoy every second of it. I want to be trembling with anticipation for it when you get it fully ready for me again."
She pulled off of him and spat the remains of the ice cubes back into the glass before turning back to him. "I warned you I could be cold, Toirnea."
She picked up the cock ring and began sliding it into place around the base of his cock and pulling each of his testicals into one of the other smaller rings. "There. Now we can begin getting you back up to full speed."
"I rather doubt that's the kind of cold you were referring to, though I have a very practical side that has inspired plenty of fear," he muttered gruffly. "Never going back there if I can help it,"
She lay down curling up sensually next to him as he morosely commented in old Danish about his experiences fighting the Taliban. He drifted off in thought dwelling in past wars and Lorellei sighed. She'd seen the signs of this kind of melancholy in lifelong warriors far too many times. It was called post traumatic stress disorder now in this modern age, but in truth it was an age old ailment.
There was no cure, in her experience. The only thing that came close was living life, embracing it. Exorcising the ghosts clouding the mind and heart, and nothing accomplished that like fucking someone else until you could not fuck anymore. To glory in the act that was so much the opposite of war and death and destruction.
Fingers trailed up his muscular body. Whispering in his ear she whispered, "Now I want you to reach down and take hold of your cock."
The pad of her thumb teased one of his nipples. "Good. Now stroke, Toirnea. Up. Down. Make it hard for me to ride again, but slowly. I want to watch and enjoy every second of it. I want to be trembling with anticipation for it when you get it fully ready for me again."