Nova Peak ε

He gathered her unto himself, threshing to make her open, kneading until she was pliant and worked to deep pink. Skorpa loomed, and when her gaze did not roam his tautness she married their eyes, captivated by the heady look in his dual flames. Then came her own sacred fire; the most exquisite pain before the rush that squirmed her hips. She clawed ferally at the bearskin, sensual voice giving wild life to their den, thighs tensing. At once she layed panting, flushed, still and slick. She untucked her legs and sought equal worship upon Skorpa’s massive paw while spasms rippled through her. She admired him, and them together; enjoying the contrast of her ivory palm over his red.
“How do northern women please their men?” Ayovi asks huskily, a fierce sweep to her hips until she had him splayed to her ministrations, much the same way he had done.
They are together more often than not, and still he is new to her. She sinks her head along the span of his chest, kissing, lathing, aligning their mouths. Downward in narrowing circles she approaches and mouths, tracing and retracing while her own body implores for more of him.