In a wink of passion
This is a short story commission Nulkurrak has done for
Dargon0
Description: The dragon Khaeldran sets his eyes on a herd of mares to prey on, but finds his quarry to be shrewder than he anticipated. As his struggle to subdue the pesky horse continues, the male discovers that quelling his sexual frustration takes precedence over satisfying his hunger.
Khaeldran(c) and the mare character belong to me
***In a wink of passion chapter 1***
At times, Khaeldran wondered what would happen if he kept his established course true. He'd make it over the seemingly deserted farmlands, perhaps catch the wyverns guarding a town unawares and sneak past their vigilance. Then, at the tail end of his fortune, he'd be greeted by the dark, somber walls of a city, its jutting towers as ominous as the stretching expanse of deformed dwellings bipeds called buildings.
How long would he be allowed to look upon the outskirts of the city? A few heartbeats? A dozen, before his vision flickered and faded into eternal darkness?
His sister's solemn tales often meandered towards the terrifying abilities of the human mages whenever she recounted the experiences of other, braver dragons to him. Always seeking to flaunt her newly gained wisdom, Rhaedra never failed to exert her fascination with the civilized world to Khaeldran. If only she wouldn't dwell on those bleakest of parts all the time...
Now, it was Khaeldran's turn at adopting that morbid interest, enough even to catch a glimpse from up-close. All of Rhaedra's stories mentioned that the towers in which the mages resided always appeared empty from a distance; that you could hardly make out their shaded silhouettes before the proximity to them grew too narrow. Said to detect and manipulate a dragon's magic flow, humans possessed a gift greater than any living being, its applications as vast as one's imaginations. Rhaedra relished the details the most, depicting their abilities in gruesome, terrifying, tail-clenching ways, torturing Khaeldran with night terrors where he mistakenly ventured into their lands.
Only, this time, it wouldn't be a mistake, but a way to finally escape the torment of his transgression.
What would Rhaedra make of his folly? For all her bravado, the dragoness' paw pads had the habit of turning damp and frigid whenever Khaeldran mentioned his departure from their ancestral lands. Khaeldran's tongue always soothed and helped restore their warmth, a sliver of brotherly affection that grew too deep and dangerous roots. What initially terrified him as a hatchling now changed visage, the nightmares concerning mages giving way to the agonizing repetition of his greatest moment of weakness.
It took a single thrust. No more than a shudder, less than a breath for Khaeldran to be overcome with crippling pleasure. His seed burst out of him in mind-reeling quantities, the spurts seemingly unstoppable when squeezed by Rhaedra's passage from every angle. It was only after the fettering bliss began to fade that Khaeldran regained some of his bearing, stumbling back onto his clumsy feet to come face to face with the musky truth of how wholly he filled his sister.
He should have resisted her pull, or at least dismounted after the first plunge through her wet, silken vent, but Khaeldran remained atop her, frozen in irresistible bliss, engulfed by far too stimulating warmth and caressed like no tongue could ever hope to match.
A few months had passed since then. Mountains flattened into hills. Gorges, valleys, and canyons gave way to rolling fields of shifting colors and textures, all so eerie from above. Khaeldran had heard of how humans subjugated the land to their will, but he never expected the display to be so literal, with patches of different colors joined together in jarring disharmony.
The sight turned the stomach, enough so to remind him of his initial purpose here, that of securing a meal. A dangerous thing, to seek wild prey through thinly forested patches through which human hunters might lurk, but intriguing in its suspense. The earlier rush of meeting his end head-on would slowly start to dwindle into apathy, giving Khaeldran the narrowest of windows to regain some of his faltering strength by filling his empty belly for the first time in days.
All this gnawing emptiness, all this pain and regret inflicted onto him by stubborn pride. If he dared take himself in his mouth like some other males had done...
No. Better not dwell on that, not while soaring over biped territory. Khaeldran sought refuge from the turmoil brewing in his mind by focusing on the spots of moving colors dotting the rising and falling slopes of the meadow below. Those must have been horses, if their size was any indication, located farther from their farm than expected. Never prey on the animals of humans, the most common warning of every wild dragon jumped to the forefront of his mind; not unless sheer desperation called for it.
Although weakened by hunger, by nights fraught with sexual frustration, Khaeldran still had enough stamina to last until the end of the week. It wouldn't be the meat of the paltry biped prey that would nourish him, but the story of his reckless exploit to carry back to Rhaedra when his courage to confront the bitter truth came to him.
Singling out a target felt deceptively easy. Humans had the habit of splitting their prey into groups, greatly diminishing a dragon's risk of returning to their den hungry. If the more populous herd had the skittish individuals, all Khaeldran had to do was steer to the other, more scattered one and try his luck there. The lower he descended, the clearer the forms strewn across the verdant fields became. Features started to take shape, appearing where there used to be nothing but vague details, such as the branching antlers they had.
They weren't stags, however, nor did the breeze carry the harder, masculine scents. This less cohesive group was made up entirely of mares, their flowing mane and tails swinging in the wind spreading their collective feminine fragrance, too easily captured by the keen nostrils of the lonely male. Mild, brushed with herbal undertones laced with the undeniably sharp tints of pheromones, the scent of some of the mares carried the unmistakable yearning to be bred, a sensible enough reason to separate the herd. Khaeldran breathed it in deep, savoring its unique odor, letting it flow through him and converge upon his genital slit where it blossomed into familiar prickles that awoke whenever his thoughts fled to Rhaedra.
It was profane, and it was obscene for the lure of prey to appeal to his sense, but also frighteningly delightful. For a brief, terrible moment, Khaeldran's hunger took pause, replaced by a most perverse need, stirred by the foulest of opportunities to finally rid himself of his maddening seed.
"Rrawrrh!" The green drake snapped himself out of lust's shackles, angling his wings for a smooth descent.
Had the mares grown in the lands populated by dragons, they would have undoubtedly noticed his circling presence. These, however, were the humans' livestock; weak-minded and ignorant, relying on wooden fences for protection, as if they could somehow block a dragon's dive. They had no such barrier out here, in the open. No wit to save them. Enraged by the whims of his thinly stretched mind, Khaeldran stooped into a dive, his looming shadow foreboding enough to finally send the mares scatter.
So many colors. So many scents. But only one that reeked of heat, with taller than usual antlers to betray her riper age. Compared to the other specimens, marked by splotches of greys and whites and beige, Khaeldran's target was a uniform, resplendent brown, accentuated by the rich black of her silky mane and fluttering tail. As expected, her speed faltered compared to the slenderer horses, her endurance bogged down by her appetizing bulk.
Such an easy prey. Almost too easy. Better to aim for a worthier prize.
As soon as he pumped his wings with broader flaps, the sluggish mare's speed increased, almost matching his. She turned when he did, slowed down in unison with him. When he attempted to switch targets, she lagged behind, nickering in taunting to get him to turn back for the accessible quarry. It was almost as if she protected the rest of her herd, a matriarch who would give what remained of her life so that the younger, more sprightly individuals managed to make their escape.
So be it.
Khaeldran banked sharply to the left, wings stretched to slow his spiraling descent. Gusts of wind generated by his flaps battered the mare, throwing debris at her unflinching form, her coal-black eyes undaunted and mysterious.
"Rrrrf," she snorted, hoofing at the grass as if in challenge. A mere horse, threatening a dragon!
"You truly are bereft of any sensibilities," Khaeldran mocked her in a language her primitive intellect wouldn't be able to grasp. Yet in response, the mare not only dipped her head in feigned challenge, but flaunted the majesty of her antlers, blunted at the tips as they were.
From their closer proximity, Khaeldran realized that the black, multi-pronged formations were quite unlike the antlers of a deer. They had the smoothness of river rocks polished by the ever-flowing water, branching off in shorter but more numerous protrusions, similar to spikes. The reduced length of the antlers, together with their thickness, made her natural weapons quite a sight to behold, capable of piercing through a thick a hide as that of a bear, if she'd gain enough momentum.
But would it work against scales?
The mare seemed as eager to discover that as Khaeldran, thundering in his direction, head aimed at one of his forelimbs in an attempt to imbalance him. With not enough time to take to the skies, the green drake lunged to the side, keeping his wings low and his tail ready to bludgeon that nonsense from her bony head.
"Stay back!" Khaeldran roared his warning at the charging mare, useless as it was, his spine-tipped tail flicking at the edge of his vision. A hard enough blow, and the spikes might just gouge an eye or press through her neck to sever an artery. The gruesomeness of that outcome sent chills down the dragon's spine, his churning gut queasy at humiliating a spirited creature in such vile way.
But the mare wouldn't have it. Unexpectedly agile on her limbs, she swerved, adjusted her aim and zipped for Khaeldran almost as fast as he could evade her while aided by his wings. Their height similar, the drake had to keep his wings raised high, lest she'd adjust her trajectory to impale the vulnerable muscles there.
It took a few tense, almost breathless minutes to assess the mare's fighting capabilities. She attacked akin to a predator, bold and reckless, caught in the familiar frenzy of hoping for that lucky blow to gain an edge in their perverse duel. Unlike his clawed paws, able to grip the grass and tear the ground to slow down his skidding, the mare had greater difficulties with the sharper twists, revealing a glaring, exploitable flaw.
So long as Khaeldran kept to her rear, she could never turn in time, readjust, and recover her momentum to add enough strength to her battering assaults.
What started off as an inexplicable ruse soon sparked the dragon's excitement, adding fire to his blood, his temples thrumming with the pulse of battle. Slow, careless, uncoordinated as she was, the mare provided a most unique experience to him, for back in his lands, prey never dared fight back. The two maintained their rhythm, with the mare gradually exerting herself while Khaeldran unraveled more of her attack patterns. The glimpse of her rear often lasted for but a fleeting moment, accompanied by flashes of her soaked, heat-stricken flesh during those curious twitches of her vulva meant to goad on the males to do their duty by her.
Khaeldran's haunches quivered. His genital muscles tightened, flaring up stirring sensations in his dormant member. The meadow no longer smelled of trampled grass mixed with the heavy reek of her sweat, but of fragrant, inviting heat. Every time her rear pivoted for another onslaught, Khaeldran spotted droplets--sometimes strings of her thin, slippery lust--pelting the ground below, sparkling like tiny gemstones reflecting the sun's light.
Awash with panic stemming from this most offensive reaction, Khaeldran drew in a sharp breath to expel a tongue of flame meant to shadow his far-too-sluggish dodge.
"Nyaah!" The mare whinnied, reeling on terror-struck limbs. She froze, gripped by incapacitating dread, not knowing where else to head for. As if aware that outrunning a flying predator would end in but one outcome, she chose him, sticking to her foremost desire of driving this emerald plague away from her herd, far from her lands.
"You insolent..." Khaeldran shot a few more spouts of warning heat to dissuade her from her nonsense. "You'll burn. You'll reek of acrid, burnt hair that only scavengers will dare touch."
To no avail. Sensing the warning nature of Khaeldran's attempts, the mare's boldness heightened once again, breaking through the thin curtain of swirling flames with a speed and determination to rival a dragon.
A sharp lunge to the left. Then, a swerve meant to aim her right at Khaeldran's exposed side. Like a sleek brown shadow, the mare's body arched with unexpected grace and fluidity, bringing her horns against Khaeldran's undefended left flank, the force of the blow sweeping the paws from under him.
No cry slipped through his gaping jaws, the impact so sudden, so unexpected it sucked the breath out of him. Crumpled in the grass, with paws and wings scrambling for purchase, Khaeldran gasped and wheezed for air while the mare towered above him, her looming shadow draped over his form. Curt, spiteful snorts fled her flared nostrils, joined by the angry stomping of her hooves.
But where was the last blow? The decisive strike meant to ensure the safety of her herd? The mare had but aim for his exposed throat while stuck in that dizzied state, and one of the sharp ends of her antlers might just find its way through. Instead, she clopped her hooves, flicked her head, and swung her tail from side to side, devoid of any interest in crippling or ending him.
"Grrrhhh," the drake's voice returned to him, rife with the dull throbs pulsing through his ribs. He breathed in deep to fill his lungs with much-needed air, but all he smelled was her suave concoction of pent-up pheromones desperate for sexual relief.
His mind swam, lost in a completely different fog, the sort which made his entire body prickle with growing arousal. The muscles of his underbelly tensed up, spitting out the spaded tip of his cock, followed by the already-forming ridges. At the mere sight of his poking shaft, the mare spun on the spot, replacing the ominous gloom of her indifferent gaze with the dark, sagging, slickened sight of her vulva.
It twitched--no, it flared--flaunting the smooth, reddish insides to the awestruck gaze of the petrified male, awash with shameful waves of radiating need. How could he avert his gaze from it? Or refrain from sucking in the fragrant waft rushing from those wet, oozing depths? The more she kept up those curious motions, the more her clear juices seemed to froth and bubble when trapped in those narrow angles, only a few trails leaking past the more prominent button of flesh at the base.
"Mmmmmmrrr," Khaeldran inadvertently whined in surreptitious infatuation with that perfect contrast of black and flushed pink, its sight as inviting as the beckoning musk it leaked.
It faded as quickly as it happened, the mare once again ramming her hoof down in the grass, daring him to find his footing. When he next did so, Khaeldran urged her back with a forceful buffet of his wings, his cock too hard, his patience too thin to play her games for even a minute longer.
He should have been the one to charge her. Not lean back on his trembling hind legs, throbbing erection swinging straight at his opponent. Unnaturally fast, beads of precum already oozed from his tip, their tantalizing flow through his shaft as pleasant as it was enraging. Just like him, the mare took in the sight of his full malehood, impassive, almost uncaring with the reaction she triggered in him.
Her subsequent charge proved her seeming disinterest on what he had to offer, forcing Khaeldran to fan out his wings and stumble back in a desperate bid to shelter the already wounded side she tried for. After a full circle, the mare attempted another strike, only this time, Khaeldran shoved his hind paws into the ground, launching herself at her with all the strength his muscular limbs and wings could gather.
The mare's antlers bounced off his toughened plates, exposing her neck to jaws that could snap down on it and end this charade once and for all. For the most irrational of reasons, Khaeldran refused to seize the opportunity, firmly hooking his hind claws into the grass and slamming his forepaws down on her shoulders to shove her back. All it took was a twist of his body to add weight to his front half, and a mighty shove delivered from his forelegs to topple her, his balance preserved thanks to his arched tail and unfurled wings.
"Enough," Khaeldran growled his last and only warning, shoving a forepaw against her soft, vulnerable belly. "Stay down, or rise for the final time."
To drive his point home and still her kicking legs, Khaeldran pressed his claws deeper into her, letting the trickle of crimson blood better outline his terms.
Her struggle ceased instantly, the mare favoring him the same emotionless gaze from before, daring him to do his worst. Only, this time, her blinks were quicker, more frequent, almost pleading to let her live another day.
Clemency for one's prey wasn't in the nature of a dragon, however, and Khaeldran was voracious for her soft, inviting belly, for those shapely haunches, heavy with meat, for the...for...for her sex? But it looked so foreign! Uninviting even, with how it sagged downward, its surface marred with tiny wrinkles etched upon smooth, silky black skin. It should have repelled him, but instead, it seized his attention, his senses, even his desire.
For in his desperate state, even a mare's privates struck the visage of arousing opportunity to finally rid himself of his nagging seed.
What started as a study of his trophy ended with gaze stolen by her vulva, with its brief flashing of its ripe, soaked insides. The closer he looked upon it, the deeper this madness sunk into his mind. No longer did her species, that of mindless prey, matter. His pride no longer had any sway in this matter of slaking a dire need. There was only his bothersome, erect shaft and a fleshy vulva wide and deep enough hold the entirety of him inside, topped off with an shockingly addictive fragrance.
With no more fight left in him to preserve faltering values, Khaeldran gave himself to the whims of his instinct, to the urge to take advantage of this singular chance at eradicating the reason he hadn't slept soundly ever since he abandoned Rhaedra. Like a forsaken, depraved beast, his snout descended upon her privates, hungry as an eel, pressing against her moist flesh to greedily suck in the vapors of heat wafting from her depths. With his lungs and nostrils filled with it, the drake reeled back, roaring his claim over her as if she was a dragoness worthy of his seed.
That was the mare's chance at escape. During those few seconds Khaeldran's wit faltered to primitive levels, she could have scampered away to join the herd. But when his snout, damp with her juices, next angled towards her, it found her in the same spot, the spasms of her cunt all the more intense, the trickle of juices richer in her eagerness to coax a response from a male.
Any male.
Khaeldran answered the call, lowly and demeaning as it was. To a dragon brought to the brink of sanity, the strong pulses of condensed musk drifting from her fleshy depths smelled like the sweetest, ripest of gifts, stoking his lust to almost unbearable levels.
It was so intriguing. So fresh. So enrapturing! He just couldn't have enough of her strong yet appealing reek, built over days of neglect from her stallions, from her humans, from everybody! Khaeldran knew this pungent tang all too well, veiled by her specific fragrance, far more appetizing than his rough, repelling odor. Enrapturing in its intensity, it kept his muzzle glued to her quivering lips, sometimes eliciting a few grunting bumps against it to try and make it just an inch into her tunnel for a spicier, more stimulating flavor.
When the impossibility of it grew too apparent due to his nose horn, his tongue snaked forth, slithering its way into her with no warning nor regard for her permission. That earned him his first kick in the snout, a dizzying blow that sent him crumbling on his side, the drake stunned from the more inebriating flavor of her sex than the might of the hit.
Pain barely registered amidst the wild throbs of his cock. Blood surged through him hotter than it did in months, hazing reason, blotting out everything else but for the urge to mount and ejaculate his far too impatient seed into her. Light-headed, dizzy and focused solely on managing his breaths to keep his jolting cock from not spilling its pent-up reserves on the ground yet again, Khaeldran recovered his footing, finding the mare tall, brown and imposing.
"Nyahaha," she whinnied in that strange way of hers, attempting to communicate through snorts and flicks of her head.
With his faculties reduced to a dim speckle, Khaeldran responded with a mere jerk of his cock, sending her into a too-swift charge that not even a sober dragon could evade in time.
The battering blow never came. Wind whooshed past him, followed by tendrils of heat beckoning his nostrils to pursue that heavenly delight. It was his turn now to be the sluggish one; to trail behind the mare just like she wished him to, a slave to her flagged tail, to the quirky contractions of her vulva breathing her miasma down upon him. This was no longer a fight, but a chase, with the mare leading her suitor wherever and for however long she wished to.
Khaeldran stopped in unison with her. A few winks of her vulva later, she broke into a gait again, juices trailing from her entrance like the flowing hairs of her mane. Those had no mass to them, however, no proper thickness to keep those little tendrils from breaking free as lines, droplets or gobs of cloudy fluid. If Khaeldran filtered the thudding of her hooves, he would hear them patter the grass as if rain, only far more erotic in nature.
The mare halted as sudden as he had grown to expect from her, the motions of her sex snappy and impatient. She hoofed at the grass, not with that damning foreleg meant to humiliate him, but with a light, gentle, luring hint of a shapely hind leg.
It took great effort from the dragon to keep his steps calm, composed, deliberate. Though the clues of her intentions winked right in his face, he was still a dragon and she a mare, sharing a sinister bond that should not have seen them so close to one another, let alone in a state of heightened arousal. Of all the anxieties bubbling beneath Khaeldran's scales, the cold dread of her breaking into a gallop across the fields hit him the hardest. It no longer mattered that she was prey; to his cock, she would be a mate as fine as any.
The mare's snorts and coordinated slaps of tail against rump left no room to argue, lightening the drake's paws, adding a surge of prickling enthusiasm to the shudders sailing through his slender frame. He was so close now. The potency of her scent heightened to intoxicating levels, the pungent, raw odor of alluring pheromones completely seizing his senses. A lash across his cheek, surprising in its sting, drew a sharp hiss from the dragon, her swinging tail leaving no room for compromise.
There would be no sniffing, no licking of her overflowing, fleshy vulva. Just the main event, ominous yet pressing enough to overrule the primeval instincts of her kind.
Khaeldran could no longer hold back. Rearing back on his awkward, trembling with enthusiasm hind legs, the dragon unfurled his wings to keep steady while adjusting the angle of his grip, heart ablaze with the nagging panic of somehow hurting her. The weight of his cumbersome bulk made the choice for him, sending his plated chest against her strong back, forepaws hugging her around the middle in the same way he held his sister during that fateful moment.
He did not bring his head next to hers to join cheeks, nor did he nibble down encouragingly on her nape. Guided solely by his aching cock, Khaeldran's hips surged forward, driving his rod to plunge through the wide, wet enough entrance.
The first stroke met the smooth hairs on the hard surface of a haunch, slathering it with a dash of clean, musky precum. A second attempt landed him under his target, ramming the inside of a haunch with his overly sensitive spade. Not even her sex, and his cock already tightened with unnerving intensity, adding to the dragon's desperation make it inside before his weakened resilience faltered.
Familiar in its girth and strength, her body added to the eroticism of this mating attempt, with those thick, sturdy haunches able to endure his weight. Her back, long and wide, strong enough to remain unbending beneath him. Her pussy, just a little higher than he expected it to be compared to Rhaedra's.
It only took a fleeting kiss of her wet warmth on his tip for Khaeldran's haunches to instantly stiffen, breath halting in his throat as he bucked hard against her hindquarters to drive the entirety of his cock into her. A strong, wet, audible squelch, anointed by her juices splattering all over his inner haunches, echoed from her depths, her loose flesh welcoming his hardness with mounting shudders. To Khaeldran's soaring ecstasy, those felt like gentle sparks, barely worth considering amidst the sheer delight of having all of his ridges revel in the slick, smooth, warm embrace of a female.
He couldn't lay still to savor her. Driven to the point of desperation, his relief-starved body left him with no room to recover his breath, his instinct demanding that he worked himself up to climax before this chance would somehow be robbed from him. Barely a whimper sneaked past his tightly scrunched jaws amidst the three jerky, feeble thrusts he managed, his ridges already swollen to their limits, the spade crowning his tip needing no more than the silky caress of her shudders to spit out its heavy burden.
Khaeldran didn't roar. He whimpered at the height of pleasure, forepaws clasped tight around her stomach, hind paws reeling and grasping for balance stolen by the too-strong jets exploding from his throbbing member.
The flood of seed cascading into her, quickly filling her to the point where his own warmth blanketed Khaeldran's bottom ridges, stirred the mare's clasping walls into a twitching frenzy. She groped, squeezed, pushed against his invading stiffness, going through whatever motions she had at her disposal to stimulate him close to the point of fainting. It was almost too much for the lonely drake, who held onto her through the sheer power of his neglected instinct, intent on spurting the entirety of his thick, viscous load into her. Too long had he kept that seed trapped inside, without the silky caress of drenched walls to usher it; longer than any male should.
But now that the moment finally came, Khaeldran willed his hips to ram into hers, shoving those last, most receptive ridges past her stubborn entrance, into her, then back out, rubbing that button of flesh at the base of her vulva that seemed to accentuate her entrancing massage. Every gush of his essence carried the molten, pent-up passion preserved for his kin, tricked into splattering against the walls of an entirely different species. Curious, how it made no difference to his overstimulated cock that kept jolting and twitching into her, emptying itself of all that it held at the expense of Khaeldran's ragged huffs.
Completely sapped of stamina, the drake's tongue lolled past the side of his maw, drool slipping between his fangs. The initial rush of pleasure spent, Khaeldran's haunches stilled, letting the mare's muscles drain the last of his might out of him. Already did the excess start to leak past her overflowing sex, pushed out by the gentle caress of her walls, by the unending contractions of her winking vulva.
It made no difference to him. He had given her all that he could, his frame as relaxed as his mind, unimpeded by the weight of demoralizing lust. Emptied of the most pressing urge, the male's perspective on the union with a mare completely shifted. She was equal to a dragoness to his deluded, intoxicated mind, worthy to be hugged as one, to receive his slick affection upon cheek. Insert link
She immediately disregarded it, whinnying in irritation, threatening to kick him off her, should he try it again. Not quite what he expected, but welcomed nonetheless. It freed him of the constraints of the aftermath, letting him selfishly immerse himself in the memories of a climax almost as powerful as his first.
Were her body weaker, Khaeldran would have flopped down into the grass with her, as limp and devoid of strength as his softening member. As a testament to her might, the mare retained her majesty. She supported the flaccid frame of a dragon for the better part of a minute, his gasps rough and feral, her breaths low and composed. He had no way of knowing whether she ascended to her peak as well through the clenching motions of her walls, still hoping to milk the last fading droplets from his malehood.
"Nyah!" The mare gave him the briefest of warnings before the familiarity of her warmth traded placed with the hard ground. Completely drained in more ways than one, Khaeldran did not even have the strength to grunt, his senses still soaring amidst the stars speckling his vision.
Angry neighs. Stomps of hooves. Pointy antlers standing just shy from his halfway opened eye.
"Rrrf!" The mare snorted right in his face, undoubtedly wishing him off her meadow.
"Mreh," Khaeldran dismissed her, curling into a ball, still dizzy from the aftermath of their copulation. What could she do to him, ram him in the bum?
***End of chapter 1***
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