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I pulled out and pushed into her again, and again, beginning a slow fucking rhythm. Her body responded, pushing back onto me each time I drove forward. My hands released her hips, one sliding up her side to her breast, which I started caressing and kneading, sometimes lightly pinching or pulling her hard nipple. The other hand slid around her front and found her clit, just above where my cock slowly pistoned in and out of her. She leaned back into my embrace, head against my shoulder, arms still pushing against the wall for support. She made constant quiet noises, lower as I pulled out, higher as I pushed in. Her hips bucked back against my cock and forward onto the finger frigging her. My thrusts were still slow, but became harder, stronger, each one lifting her body slightly as I rammed up into her, her moans and sighs turning into short yelps and cries, getting louder with each fuck into her velvety pussy. My own voice gave a low growling counterpoint to hers. I felt her begin to. Janie couldn’t help but laugh. Tonya rolled her head and looked at her. Janie covered her mouth, but it was too late. “He really knows what he’s doing,” the young apprentice grinned. “You sure you don’t want a turn?”Janie shook her head, but bit her lip. She was frustrated, but she was enjoying it. “I’ll focus on the ritual part.”“Oh, right! I should be doing that too,” Tonya said. She closed her eyes and started to concentrate on converting her pleasure into an internal reservoir of power. “Don’t stop, old man.”Janie tossed off her sheer black shawl and looked down the valley of her own breasts. Her ivory bustier exposed more than enough of her chest to draw the transfer sigil. She just had to get it right. Last time Tonya had drawn it. This time she was going to have to do it herself. It didn’t seem that hard. She was well practiced at carving wards into stone and wood. She quickly drew a circle on her chest and immediately knew she’d gotten it wrong. It wasn’t centered, and one.
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