Wapun Meadow You're my discretional sin

A bolt of frustration pierced through Tambourine's hormonal fog. He didn't have much patience (or brains...) for games and, truthfully, he didn't understand how she could hold out for so long. He remembered how—I'll call her Pixie, he thought to himself—had led him on a brief chase. The keyword being "brief." She hadn't wanted to toy with him too much, because in doing so she was only torturing herself. Tambourine just wanted to enjoy the mutual pleasure of fucking and couldn't quite grasp why Laurel was teasing him and herself so much.

She addressed Indra and, with the curtain currently lifted somewhat, Tambourine really considered her for the first time. She looked a bit put out by the goings-on and he supposed that made sense; he and Laurel had pretty much left her out until now. He licked his lips, admiring the rusty hues of her fur. She might not smell quite as tempting as Laurel, yet suddenly Tambourine's attention shifted. Perhaps Indra would like a demonstration... and maybe she wouldn't beat around the bush so much, like Laurel.

"I could show you," he said, letting the lust subsume him again. "It feels so good, better than anything else you've ever felt before. It's like itching a really, really, really deep itch... but sooo much better." He took a tentative step toward Indra now, pupils dilating. "Let me show you," he suggested, his voice lowering, "please?"