The Elves of the Wood, Parts 1 and 2 [Fantasy, MF, Mf, Oral Sex, Plot, Long]

Part One

They watched him travel the shaded mountain path through the heart of their village with a myriad of expressions written upon their elvish faces. Some seemed curious, others wary, while still more were impassive, but mostly he saw excitement. They were all dressed alike, if in fact they could be said to be dressed at all. They were mostly naked, with only a thin strip of loincloth draped between their thighs, and their bare breasts and bellies exposed to the sun’s warmth. The villagers stood in a crowd fronting their modest thatched roof huts; mothers and their daughters, young women, youngling girls, and crones with silvery hair and wizened, weathered faces.

Drinnen stole quick glances as he led his pack mule along the village thoroughfare, its grade growing ever steeper as he neared the Queen’s Hill. His destination was the formidable fortress of felled trees and set stone that loomed at its crest. He looked over his shoulder to see the thread of his path vanish as the villagers fell in procession behind him. His hefty walking pack was a great weight upon his shoulders, and his legs and back were weary from many days of foot travel, but onward he trod. Ranger, his trusty mule, ever followed him, and was packed high with countless trading wares, a hunting bow, and several mismatched pots and pans.

Stout-looking elf maidens holding long, sharpened spears flanked either side of the fortress’s high gate. They wore a sort of light armor made from lacquered wood and iron, which covered their torsos and upper legs, and half-helms wrought from some glinting metal. They made no move to impede his progress, and gave him little more than a cool appraisal as he passed by.

Once through the gates, Drinnen led the villagers towards the Queen’s royal pavilion. More guards were posted outside her door, and yet their captain, a broad, stout-looking elf-woman, stood aside as he neared, and motioned for him to enter. Drinnen obeyed with a curt nod, and, after offering Ranger a carrot, stepped from the bright glare of midday sun into the shaded darkness within.
The Elf Queen sat upon a modest throne of carved and lacquered wood. Drinnen thought her pavilion rather plain for a queen, though in truth the elf tribes of the deep wood were long rumored to care little for wealth or elegance.

“Hail, traveler,” the queen spoke as she sat motionless and confident upon her throne. She wore a silvery strip of metal upon her head, and her long, chestnut hair flowed freely over her pointed ears to drape at her shoulders. She was beautiful and elegant to behold, and seemed younger than he had expected. She was garbed only slightly more ornately than her subjects, and wore a robe of the same silvery sheen as her crown. The robe was left open at her front which left her plump, round breasts exposed, as seemed customary to this race of elves. A wrought silvery stud impaled each of her round, pink nipples, and glinted softly in the torchlight.

“Your Highness,” Drinnen replied, with a stiff, polite bow of his head. He felt a little unkempt to be in the presence of royalty, having been traveling for many days. His cotton tunic and trousers felt loose-fitting and plain; game had been scarce along his travels. His salt and pepper hair had grown shaggy, and he had not had the opportunity to shave for several days. Still, he stood tall and smiled a warm, courteous smile.

“I have come to you this day under the policies of Reeves Van Oosten, Lord Governor of the Sand Road, begging leave to travel your lands,” he said loudly. “I make for the edge of the great Sand Sea, to trade with the many merchant princes who live upon its borders. I have many goods, my queen, and would be greatly humbled if you would choose a gift which I might bestow upon you as an act of kindness and goodwill.”

“What is your name, traveler?” the queen asked placidly.

“Drinnen, my queen.”

“My dearest Drinnen, there is indeed something I might request of you. It is, however, nary of your wares, I’m afraid. It seems as though you are not familiar with the plight of our village.”

“That is fair to say, my queen,” Drinnen said politely. “Please, make your request, and I shall do whatever is in my means to fulfill it.”

“I have no doubts you will,” the queen said with a sly smile. “As you likely have noticed, there are no men-folk here. Sadly, an enchantress cursed our village many generations ago. Since that fateful day, every elf-child born to every mother has been a girl. Slowly, over the years, our men died off, leaving our people with little hope for survival. Try as they might, our own mages were powerless to break her spell.”

She gazed upon him impassively, and continued.

“Happily, our ancestors decided that we would indeed survive, though our ability to do so would largely depend on trade…and traders. For there were still ample men in the world, and in fact many of them sought passage through our lands, as you do. And so the price was set, all those years ago. Any man who wishes to pass through our wood must first spend three days and three nights here, with us. During that time, he will give us that of which we need most if we are to continue…his seed.”

Drinnen raised an eyebrow.

“My…seed?” he stammered.

“Yes,” the queen said quietly. “Your seed. The one thing that we cannot do on our own is conceive a child.”

“And if I refuse?” Drinnen asked warily.

Suddenly, the queen laughed. It was a high, hearty laugh full of genuine mirth. The guards who stood next to her throne also smiled.

“My dear Drinnen, what would be your reason for refusing? Are we all so hideous that you could not find it within your heart to lay with us?”

“No…I…only meant…” he stuttered, suddenly very aware of all the sniggering elven eyes fixed upon him.

“You may choose any of us who you might desire. Any of us who wish to be with child, that is. As is customary, all those who have accompanied you to this pavilion are presenting themselves for your consideration.”

“I must choose now?” Drinnen asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes,” the queen replied, seemingly amused. “You must choose now, and you must choose three. One day and one night with each. Take your time, my dear Drinnen, and choose as you see fit. May the gods bless your selections with fruitful pairings.”

Drinnen glanced around the pavilion. Many of the same faces he had passed in the village watched him now, save the youngling girls who were not of age, and those villagers who were past their child bearing years. Some were slender and others curvy, some tall and some short, some blonde, while others had black, brown, or red hair. All of them were pretty enough after a fashion, though in a wild, fiery sort of way. Drinnen found himself overwhelmed.

Then, suddenly, he noticed a girl watching him with the hint of a smile upon her full lips. She seemed young, though not as young as some, and her blonde hair framed a slender face that was accentuated by deep blue eyes. Her breasts were small but shapely, and her arms and shoulders seemed strong, as though she used them often in her labors. Drinnen licked his lips and, after glancing at the queen, nodded quickly in the blonde girl’s direction.

“Celeste Starspun,” the queen’s herald called out. “Come forward.”

The blonde girl strode forward wearing a thin smile and stood next to Drinnen. She was about three quarters his height and even more beautiful standing close than she had looked from afar. Her skin was tanned and supple, and bright pink nipples crowned each of her soft breasts. She wore her hair down with small braids framing her face and many piercings in her pointed elvish ears. She stood tall and proud and addressed her queen with a small, fluid bow.

“Who is your next choice, Drinnen?” the queen asked calmly.

Again he found himself searching the myriad of bright faces. All of them were comely in their own ways and watched him with knowing eyes and subtle smiles. Again, his eyes suddenly fixed upon one of them. This girl was taller than Celeste, and thinner, and kept her dark hair cut short so that it sat in curvy waves upon her head. Her eyes were a deep green, and her skin was nearly as pale as bone. Again Drinnen made his selection known to the queen.

“Annika of the Frostwoods,” the queen’s herald said. “Come forward.”

The pale girl swept forward with a tranquil smile and practiced elegance, like one who always carried herself as though she was being watched. She stood on Drinnen’s other side, and though she was taller than Celeste, she was still half a head shorter than him. Her breasts were smaller still, as was her waist, and her small, puffy nipples were such a pale shade of pink that they were barely visible at all.

“And now, Drinnen, for your final selection,” the queen said. He could feel some tension in the pavilion now, as though most of the villagers were hoping and praying to catch his eye. But he refrained from any further glances around the room, and instead cleared his throat.

“My queen,” he said slowly, measuring his words. “You said all in this room are presenting themselves for my consideration?”

“Yes, that is so.”

“Very well. I would humbly ask that you, my queen, would be my final choice. If you’ll have me, that is.”

The room went very still. Drinnen squinted, and wondered momentarily if he had made a mistake when suddenly the young queen smiled broadly.

“Of course I accept,” she said as a subtle blush washed over her pleasant, girlish features.

“As is customary,” the queen said after a few composing beats, “our guest’s selections will each stay with him in the order they were made. Celeste, you will be first; then you, Annika. And then, my dear Drinnen, on the third night, you shall be my esteemed guest, and will attend me in my royal chambers.”

Drinnen watched cautiously as the rest of the villagers began to file out of the royal pavilion. He glanced at both Celeste and Annika, who still stood at his side, and smiled. Celeste approached him first.

“It appears we will be getting to know each other tonight, under the stars’ watchful gaze,” she said sweetly, her blue eyes fixed upon his. “I have not been with a man in, well, longer than I care to recollect, truth be told. I thank the gods for your selection.”
And with that, she rose up tall on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on a stubbled cheek. Then she smiled brightly and turned to leave. Drinnen then sensed Annika’s gaze upon him and turned to address her.

“It is said that the second night is often the most fruitful,” she said softly, her deep green eyes brimming with mystery. “A man only gets going the first night, and then is too spent to be of much use on the third. So the superstition holds, anyway. Let us pray that this is so, Master Drinnen.” She also rose up to kiss him lightly on the cheek and gently slid thin, pale fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “We will meet again on the morrow.”

Then, suddenly, she was gliding gracefully away to join the steady stream of departing villagers. Alone, he turned to where the queen had sat high above upon her wooden throne, but she had vanished. Instead, an armored guard with curly auburn hair was striding towards him.

“Come with me, sir,” the guard said. “I will take you to a warm meal and a hot bath. There, you will prepare for your task.”

Part Two

A fire crackled softly in the pit at the center of the thatched roof hut, it’s smoke wafting outward through the chimney on the roof. Drinnen sat next to the flames on a large, pillowy cushion. His skin was pink and softened by the vigorous scrubbing he had received in a steaming bath, and his damp salt and pepper hair smelled of sweet, scented oils. He wore only a wool bathrobe as he quietly smoked his pipe, a vice his dear wife had often asked him to quit. The remnants of a roast fowl sat nearby on a wooden plate, and he sipped a rich red wine from a carved wooden goblet. All the anxieties he had felt earlier in the day had melted away, and he found himself content, having now had a filling meal. The wine left him feeling cozy and tranquil.

He thought about his dear Maggie, and how he might one day confess his transgressions against his wedding vows, or if he should even bother. She was a good woman, though plain. They had married almost a score of years ago when she had just come of age, and while his trade had often kept him away for large chunks of time, he was always happy to return to her warm embrace.
Suddenly, his reverie was broken as the hut’s door creaked open. His young serving girl, Zera, had been coming and going often, so he assumed she was only returning to check on his needs. Earlier, she had been the one to administer his bath, but, while doing so, had lingered a little longer than necessary while washing his manhood. Her elven eyes had been wide as she tried not to stare, all the while breathing, quick, excited breaths.

“If you had seen me, would you have picked me?” she had asked quietly as she brushed her thin fingers across his soapy, half-hard cock. She wore her strawberry-blonde hair in a loose ponytail, and her young, pretty face was awash with freckles.

“Undoubtedly,” Drinnen had said, smiling politely.

“You’re so hairy,” Zera had observed, admiring the soft, curly hair that covered him from his loins to his shoulders. “Are all men hairy like you?”

“Men come in countless varieties. From what I’ve seen, I’m probably somewhere in the middle, truth be told. Are elf-men not hairy?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen an elf-man.” She had seemed saddened by that. “We elf-girls aren’t hairy at all, though. The only hair we grow is on our heads, so…seems to me that elf-men probably wouldn’t be that hairy either.”

“I would name that sound logic,” Drinnen had said as she gently stroked his now fully erect cock with her freckled fingers.
Her thin, dainty hands had been so soft and gentle upon his skin, and she had licked her lips hungrily as she gripped his shaft a little harder. She had giggled then, and her laughter had echoed sweetly throughout the small hut.

“I can feel your heartbeat…”

She had shifted her weight when talking, and her backside had accidentally knocked over the pitcher of wine. The blood red contents spilled across the floor as it fell with a clatter.

“Oh, gods,” Zera had said, flustered. She had turned to retrieve the pitcher and clean the mess with nearby washing rags. As she had gotten down on her hands and knees, her rear loin-cloth had fluttered to the side, and whether she had known it or not, she had given Drinnen a full view of her youthful womanly flower.

Silvery strands of sticky wetness had clung to her inner thighs and painted her pink, womanly lips with a translucent sheen. She was hairless, as she had mentioned, and her girlish folds were a bright, striking shade of pink set against the rest of her freckled skin. In an instant, the fabric had settled back into place, but the image of Zera’s sweet honeypot had burned itself into Drinnen’s mind. He had reached for her then, hungrily, but she had stood quickly and, carrying the wine-stained washrags, had bustled out.
Now, Drinnen’s pipe smoke wafted towards the ceiling as he turned his head to speak.

“Zera, my dear, you needn’t have worried about the wine…”

He looked up, suddenly realizing that it was not Zera who had entered. An elf-woman with black, wavy hair was closing the door. She carried a steaming clay pot sat upon on a carved wooden tray. Drinnen noticed in the firelight that her dark hair was streaked with strands of a violet, and she wore a smoothly polished onyx on a dark choker necklace. She wore the same thin strip of fabric between her legs as the rest of her kinsmen, but also donned a pair of tight fitting sleeves that covered her from wrist to shoulder, and she was tattooed with a set of interweaving triangles upon her cheek. She set a striking figure, and was quite pleasant to look upon. Her face was rounded and cherubic, her eyes deep and dark, and her cheeks lightly dimpled. Her breasts were full and robust, and her nipples a dark shade of pink. He noticed that she also wore a piercing on her navel, and from it hung a small triangular ornament.

“I am Esmaya; a mage,” she said in a sultry voice as she sat the tray down. She seated herself next to him and studied him with quiet intensity, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight.

Drinnen eyed her as he puffed his pipe, waiting.

“Are you feeling confident in your ability to fulfill your task?” she asked at length.

Drinnen scoffed, and drained his wine goblet.

“Well I’m no spring hen, as you can see. But I’ve fathered children before. Two in fact, a daughter and a son. They’re now close to grown themselves.”

“Good,” Esmaya said. “That bodes well.”

She sat quietly again, watching him. Drinnen held her gaze as the firelight shimmered against the polished onyx at her throat.
“I have brought you a potion,” she said, breaking the silence. “My order has concocted this particular potion to strengthen you, and others who have been, or will be, in your place, that your chances of success might be increased. Drink it while it is still hot, and your vitality and vigor will know no bounds for the remainder of your endeavors.”

Drinnen glanced warily at the steaming pot.

“Is it required?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Only requested,” Esmaya said quietly as a smile touched her lips. “You may go without the potion, but you may find your task substantially more difficult. Every man would wish to find himself in the throws of passion for three days and three nights, no doubt. But the doing of a thing can often be more difficult than our imagination would have us believe.”

Drinnen said nothing, but considered her words. Then he reached for the small clay pot and brought it to his lips. It smelled earthy and fragrant, like the wind among the trees. He blew the steam away and took a small sip. Esmaya watched him placidly with her dark eyes, her face betraying nothing. To his surprise, the drink tasted cool, almost like a piece of sugared mint. He drank a larger gulp, and then another, until suddenly the small clay pot was empty. He noticed a sudden, tingling sensation reverberate through his limbs before it slowly dissipated in his breast. He turned to where Esmaya was smiling broadly, watching him.

“I see now that you are a man of fortitude,” she said.

“Was I not supposed to drink it all?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“It always depends on the man,” Esmaya answered. “But I should think you will now have no issue with your vigor or vitality. Perhaps I should offer you a test?”

He licked his tingling lips, not fully understanding her meaning, and shrugged. Esmaya smiled, and arose to face him. She lightly rested her hands on his legs and, as she sank to her knees, began to untie his robe. Drinnen felt frozen to the cushion. He had not expected this kind of test. He had been preparing himself for his task, to be sure, but found that things were escalating much more quickly than he had expected.

Esmaya deftly pulled his robe apart, revealing his fuzzy chest, abdomen, his manhood. He was stiffening quickly, given this unforeseen spike in excitement, and his cock grew in length and girth with each quickening beat of his heart. She gazed wistfully upon it, her dark eyes glittering, before gently grasping it with her thin elvish fingers and meeting his eyes with her own. Her tiny digits lingered upon his warm, sensitive flesh, and soon she was softly stroking him with only the lightest of grips.

“Gods,” Drinnen muttered as he shut his eyes and took deep, steadying breaths.

Before his time with the Elves of the Wood, it had been many years since a beautiful young woman had been face to face his cock. He could not boast complete faithfulness to his dear Maggie, but he had given up lying with courtesans some time ago.

Gently, Esmaya pulled his foreskin down, revealing his bulbous purple head. Drinnen watched through slits for eyes as she ran thin fingers along his length. She gently palmed his testicles with one hand while deftly massaging his spongy cockhead with the other. He was fully erect now, and she playfully teased him with shy touches and pleasant squeezing.

“Shall we begin?” she said suddenly, biting her lip.

“Have we not yet started?” he asked, only partially joking.

Esmaya only smiled before suddenly bowing her head and pulling his cock into her warm, wet mouth. Pleasure swept through him like lightning as she began to suckle at his erect manhood. He grasped at her dark head, flailing awkwardly for purchase of his mind and senses. Her hair was soft in his fingers, and her gentle sucking motion filled him with a subtle, serene warmth. She stroked his length and pulled on his balls as she worked him in her mouth. He could feel her warm tongue massaging him under tightly closed lips, could feel it gently flicking against his pisshole.

She stared at him with her dark eyes as he tried to compose himself, and took him deeper into her mouth. He shut his eyes and grimaced as his cock pressed against the back of her throat until, suddenly, she was sliding him out again, sucking all the while. Drinnen wiped beads of sweat off of his forehead as Esmaya worked, trying to throw his mind elsewhere. He watched the fire smoke as it wafted upwards, tried to remember the names of certain merchant princes, but try as he might, he could not ignore the beautiful, dark-haired elf-woman who was expertly working his taut, veiny cock. Then, suddenly, he had an idea. He needed a job to distract him.

“Come here,” he rasped as he laid down flat upon his wide, soft cushion. “I want to service you, too.”

She smiled, her dark eyes twinkling.

“Indeed. Show me your substance,” she said, grinning.

She did as he bade her, and spun her body around to present him with her sultry hindquarters. She was about a head shorter than him as she laid down on top, which left her body a few inches away from his eager mouth. He raised his head to reach her, and as he did, he gently slid the back of her loincloth away. A sticky strand of her womanly wetness clung to the material as he pulled it free from her hairless, glistening pink lips. He palmed the soft flesh of her ass and gently pulled her cheeks apart, so that her tiny asshole winked lewdly and her delicate womanly lips peeled apart slowly. The musky scent of her arousal filled his nostrils and sent another shock of blood to his cock, so that it strained taut and rigid in her warm, wet mouth.

He nosed her sodden petals gently, and they parted easily to accommodate him. Then he licked her softly, teasing her, until suddenly he stuffed his warm tongue deep inside her sweltering slit. She moaned and pushed back into him, and he felt her thin fingers tighten around the base of his cock. He pressed his tongue as far inside as he could reach; her cunt was a furnace upon his freshly shaven face.

Esmaya was sucking him again with all her fervor. She took turns suckling hard on his bulbous purple head and pushing his length deep into the back of her throat. Her new approach angle gave her more ability to take him ever deeper, and suddenly he could feel her lips pressing against his balls until she gagged. He heard a small pop then, and she withdrew him from her throat with a cough.

“You…broke my necklace,” she spluttered, but Drinnen could barely hear her.

He took the opportunity to hug her tightly in a firm embrace, and held her at the mercy of his whims. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch, and his wandering hands groped her fleshy backside as his tongue explored the reddened petals of her womanly flower. She squirmed as he worked, and soon girlish moans escaped her. She did her best to try and stay focused on his cock, but he knew he was being quite the distraction.

Eventually he withdrew his tongue and pressed his nose against her tiny puckered asshole. He inhaled deeply as he pulled her cheeks apart, stretching her, and reveled in her scent. Esmaya squealed softly when he did so, and suddenly Drinnen was reminded of his dear Maggie.

“You old dog,” Maggie used to giggle. He would playfully press the tip of his nose against her own tightly clenched star and she would squirm and laugh and curse softly. But that was years ago, when they were younger and desperate to please each other.
“You’ve quite the appetite for woman flesh,” Esmaya panted as she firmly gripped his cock.

He didn’t answer, and instead, while gently stretching her cheeks apart, he flattened his tongue and used it to massage her crinkled pink asshole. Her tiny orifice gaped slightly before bashfully puckering closed an instant later.

“Gods,” she breathed. “I could do this all day. But sadly our time together is running short.”

She sat up tall then, smothering him with her sweltering cunt as she pushed down hard upon his face. Drinnen let her work, let her grind her womanhood upon him with a quickening pace. His hands clasped her thighs, then migrated to her ribs, and then reached for her soft, fleshy breasts. She had a good rhythm going and slid herself back and forth upon his mouth, his tongue, his nose, and his chin. He could tell, as her whimpers escalated, that she was close.

Suddenly, she pushed back into his face forcefully, and sat on him with all her weight taut and trembling. He squeezed her breasts as she gasped and shuddered, drawing ragged breaths. Her skin went warm and clammy to his touch as she dug her nails into his forearms. Her steamy cunt, which was spread wide to accept his probing tongue, spasmed rhythmically upon him.

It took some time for her climax to subside, and even then she still shuttered contentedly every few breaths. She collapsed upon him with a happy groan and lay still and heavy while basking in the afterglow. Her sodden, pink lips lay just in front of his face and trembled slightly as her womanly nectar slowly spilled out to puddle upon his chest.

Drinnen could feel her warm, creamy essence also slathered all over his face. His cock still throbbed with need, and was so hard that it hurt. She had laid her face very close to his rigid manhood, and he could feel her warm, panting breath. He tried enticing her to resume their entanglement by flexing his cock several times so that it brushed against her cheek. She giggled, and rolled off him onto the large, pillowy cushion.

“It may be that you would not have needed the potion after all,” she panted as she gazed upon him smiling, her dark hair disheveled.

“Potion or no, I’ve always been proud to please a woman,” Drinnen said, his body tense and aching for release. “Now, would you kindly mind finishing what you started?”

He pointed to his cock, which glistened softly with the shiny gloss of her saliva. Esmaya watched him with her dark, mysterious eyes and smiled sheepishly.

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” she shrugged. “Your seed is not mine to claim.”

Drinnen gaped at her and found himself at a loss for words. The fire had died down but still crackled quietly, and, for a moment, those sounds were all that filled the room.

“Are you serious?” he asked at length.

“Yes,” Esmaya said as she stood tall on shaky legs to rearrange her loincloth. “I’ve done my duty. I’ve administered the potion and tested it’s efficacy. That last part,” she said with a devious smile, “was just a bit of fun. Now now, don’t look at me like that. You shall have yours, and plenty of it, soon enough. But the creed of my order…”

“Oh, bugger your creed,” he scoffed. “And bugger your order. You don’t have to do nothing you don’t want to do, mind you, but that’s a hell of a way to treat a man.”

Esmaya blinked and seemed to want to say more, but only pursed her lips. She bowed a quick, solemn bow, and took her leave.

Drinnen listened to the dying fire for a moment, alone once more. His anger had fled as quickly as it had come, especially as he considered his next three nights. His cock was still hard as an old walking staff, but his mood was improving quickly. Then the door to his hut creaked open again.

Zera entered slowly carrying an armful of firewood. Her freckled face blushed a bright red, but she did not seem surprised to find Drinnen as he was.

“I was watching,” she blurted before covering her mouth with thin fingers. “Through the window. I was fetching these logs when…I saw…”

“Zera, sweetling,” Drinnen said softly. “It is of no import. I am not ashamed. You need not be either. I was only…frustrated, is all.”

“Oh, I am not ashamed,” she said, her elven eyes darting between his face and his rigid manhood. “But I would love to help relieve you of your frustrations.”

He smiled, but before he could say another word she had straddled him where he lay and pulled her loincloth to the side. The eagerness of her youth was plainly written upon her face as she took his warm, rigid cock in her hand and lowered herself down. In an instant his spongy cockhead was poised and ready at her warm, womanly entrance.

“Is this allowed?” he breathed, clenching his teeth as she brushed his straining cock against her warm, wet lips.

“I should think not,” she said, smiling a devious smile. Then she put all her weight on his cock and sheathed him deep inside her.

She was so warm and so tight, but her young body enveloped him easily. That old, familiar warmth again blossomed quickly in his breast. He felt her twitch softly as she settled upon her knees, and then leaned forward to kiss him. An instant later, she was rocking softly and sending waves of pleasure up and down his spine.

“I should warn you,” he breathed. “I won’t last long.”

“Neither will I,” she whispered as she rocked a little quicker and a little harder.

They were silent then, both of them breathing shallow, ragged breaths, their foreheads pressed together, yet still Zera rocked her body against him. His hands caressed her soft thighs, squeezed her backside, and held her tightly by the hips. He ran his fingers up and down her spine as she worked, and kissed her deeply as he held a handful of her strawberry-blonde hair. She was really getting into it as she held her eyes shut behind long, girlish lashes, and soon she was hitting a steady rhythm.

Suddenly, she increased her speed and bucked against him with renewed intensity. Her breathing became even quicker, and she sat up tall upon his lap sending his rigid cock even deeper inside her. Her warm cunt assuredly held his cock with an unyielding grasp, and seemed to massage his entire length at once. She groaned and clawed at his chest as Drinnen felt her trembling climax begin. He was not long behind her.

He arched his back and moaned like a beast as he impaled her with his full length. He palmed her small breasts and tugged at her pink, puffy nipples when he felt himself slide over the edge. Her cunt milked him urgently with powerful rhythmic contractions as he, in turn, began to erupt and fill her with his warm, watery seed. For a time their world was only pleasure; they were in locked freefall together from an unknowable height. Drinnen felt as though the room was spinning wildly, and he pulled her down upon him with all his strength. He held his own eyes shut tight, and though the room was still warmly lit in the fire’s orange glow, he saw nothing.

Then her lips found his, and she molded her body to his embrace. Her hands held his head in place as she pressed her warm, wet lips to his and kissed him deeply. He held her slender body against him with both of his arms tightly wrapped around her slender waist. Both of them twitched and shuddered softly as their climaxes receded, and Zera sighed sweetly in his ear.

They stayed cuddled together for a time, how long he could not say. She lay still and quiet, only moving to run her thin, freckled fingers through his salt and pepper hair. His cock remained fully rigid inside her warm, sultry womanhood, though the pent up energy he had felt when Esmaya left had all but dissipated.

“I should probably go,” Zera said at length. Drinnen hated the thought of losing her from their warm, tender embrace, and only grunted his disapproval. She giggled.

“You have given me a great gift, Master Drinnen,” she said softly as she toyed with his hair. Then she raised her face to where she could look him in the eye. She was so beautiful in that moment, as though she was glowing with angelic fire.

“Mayhaps you have given me a child,” she said as she kissed him softly. “Mayhaps…you have given me a son.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/hr3zqc/the_elves_of_the_wood_parts_1_and_2_fantasy_mf_mf