Dawnlark Plains the theory of everything

the look mona delivered, so possessing and darkened by desire, enthralled rannveig so that he scarcely was aware of his own actions. he moved on instinctual purpose, his excitement heightened by her invitation to comingle.

at first, the grey brute placed wanting nips along her ruff, inhaling her scent -- each ministration more gentle than the last, but somehow full of sweet urgency. each caress, he drew closer; until at last his loins pressed to her narrow backside, and he could feel the drumming of her heart between his long limbs.

he paused, wishing to draw out this sense of desiring unity forever -- but his instinct urged him to come back to reality, where mona was his bliss and the warmth of her flesh his world. more gingerly than last time, rannveig's hips pressed with burdensome lust against her, until at last he found his mark and embraced the overwhelming warmth of mona's world.