you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
not that you knew me back then
In the past she loved this dance, she loved the scrape of teeth, the ache the next day, the nails, the bruises, the marks left on the body and the physical reminds of taking pleasure in a world that offered very little in other places. The taste of a woman’s sweet cum on her tongue, the feeling of a hard cock sliding inside her, the animals in them awake and alive and clawing their way out of their bodies.
There’s something to be said for going through the motions, knowing what they used to feel like, knowing that some people take as much joy in giving as they do receiving. Genuinely amused by the tiny woman’s ferocity, she grins at her insistance that she’ll bite wherever and whatever, and oh, Wessex is game.
When Hotaru’s hands begin to roam, she sits back and peels her shirt off again, her body firm and unyielding to the woman’s touch - a weapon made flesh, and ultimately a terrible pillow for prospective partners. Were she Accepted, she might show the small signs of aging that all women show, but she is lean from a hard, active life, and now her muscles will never lose their tone. Her breasts are small handfuls atop a boyish frame. Slim hips, a ribcage easily felt under her skin, a body once covered with training and life scars is now eerily smooth, down to the V where her abs slide into her pelvis. Hotaru’s hands would have tickled a little, caused her to moan and pull them up to cup her tits and pinch her nipples.
Now? The Wraith lets her fingers be captured, lets them slip into the girl’s mouth; she can smell her arousal by now - they won’t need much additional lubrication. Besides, she’d rather see those lips gasping and moaning. If the blonde will let her, she rolls them over, putting Hotaru on top. “Whatever interests you. Just end up sitting on my face.” It’s been so long since she’s had a lovely pair of thights clamped around her head. And of course there's the femoral artery to think of...
There’s something to be said for going through the motions, knowing what they used to feel like, knowing that some people take as much joy in giving as they do receiving. Genuinely amused by the tiny woman’s ferocity, she grins at her insistance that she’ll bite wherever and whatever, and oh, Wessex is game.
When Hotaru’s hands begin to roam, she sits back and peels her shirt off again, her body firm and unyielding to the woman’s touch - a weapon made flesh, and ultimately a terrible pillow for prospective partners. Were she Accepted, she might show the small signs of aging that all women show, but she is lean from a hard, active life, and now her muscles will never lose their tone. Her breasts are small handfuls atop a boyish frame. Slim hips, a ribcage easily felt under her skin, a body once covered with training and life scars is now eerily smooth, down to the V where her abs slide into her pelvis. Hotaru’s hands would have tickled a little, caused her to moan and pull them up to cup her tits and pinch her nipples.
Now? The Wraith lets her fingers be captured, lets them slip into the girl’s mouth; she can smell her arousal by now - they won’t need much additional lubrication. Besides, she’d rather see those lips gasping and moaning. If the blonde will let her, she rolls them over, putting Hotaru on top. “Whatever interests you. Just end up sitting on my face.” It’s been so long since she’s had a lovely pair of thights clamped around her head. And of course there's the femoral artery to think of...
but it all comes back to me in the end
WESSEX
