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The feel of a velvety cock head against my tongue. Nothing is connected. It’s all flashes and moments. Powerful hips slamming against my butt. A sensation of choking as a thick shaft touches my throat and impedes my breath. Two cocks isn’t enough now. I can take two more. Three more! My pussy feels empty without a cock ravaging its wet walls. I imagine a long line of soldiers, dressed in their uniforms, their hard cocks sticking out of their flies, all waiting to fuck me three at a time. And I can do it, literally living in the moment, while they release themselves on me, inside of me, atop me. Suddenly the vacancy in my ass isn’t replaced by the Captain’s cock. He’s gone! I snap my head around to find him. Ah. He’s heading up to the front. The aide withdraws, making room for his boss. The Captain’s cock is slick with lube and sweat and whatever liquids cling to it from inside me. I realize he hasn’t even tried my cunt. The hole I’ve exercised to be as enjoyable as possible. He. He was an incredible kisser, she had to admit – clearly those Free Marches girls had given him some lessons – and she’d lost herself entirely to the simple pleasure of just kissing. Now that she could breathe again and her head had stopped reeling, the worries she’d been suppressing came back into focus.He was Fereldan. She was Orlesian. He was a nobleman, she a commoner. He was a straight-forward, honest type with an Arling to run and roots already put down; her likely future was as a spy, and she wasn’t going to be able to stay in the same place for any length of time.They were doomed – before they even got started.And yet, though she knew she should stop it there before things went any further, the thought of telling him that made her feel ill. She wanted his kisses, needed them; she wanted to taste him and feel his hands in her hair and, and ... more, and even though she knew he was going to break her heart, she knew she wouldn’t walk away.I’ll just take whatever I can get – and.
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Yah, mine. Fucking asshole of a God. ***** If I blinked my eyes enough, or wiped them enough, I could see Elizabeth’s shadow sprawling back against the window and holding its hands to its throat. Its head was half bent over. I watched the shadow massage its neck. I could even see fine lines where wisps of her hair etched their own shadows on the wall. I wanted to cover my eyes, but if I did I couldn’t see even her shadow. That time would come soon enough. Elizabeth huffed a little while she rubbed her throat, but she didn’t cry. She cleared her throat three times. She rubbed for a while. There were moments when I could make out the shadows of her hands, of some fingers. She turned sideways and there was the outline of that flawed nose on the wall. Her shadow began to dissolve. There were steps that came right up to me. Maybe she had found something heavy and hard to smash on my skull. Nothing happened. Then there were her real, flesh-and-bone hands on my shoulders. ‘You’re crying.’.

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