((I can usually tolerate captcha on log posts, but if you would prefer to move it somewhere, that's totally fine with me!))
Hm. [She hums, as if the answer is some kind of secret. Well, that's exactly what it means. It's a good thing Hilda may have found the answer to her very own question. At the moment, Rahu isn't in any position to level a response.
The positive feedback rewards the insatiable urge just as much as it fuels it. As enticing as it is to think of pinning her to the ground and rutting against her, devouring her completely, performing well enough to receive such a pleasured response is working her up all the same. Rahu chuckles; maybe there's some genuine satisfaction woven in with that instinctual fulfillment. Something she hasn't experienced in years bubbles to surface: pride. Hilda might as well be patting her on the head and proclaiming she chose her partner well. Rahu would hate it if she were actively thinking about it. Maybe she'll hate it later. Not thinking properly might be her saving grace now.
She stays patiently in place as her head is held. This sort of order is one she feels no need to recklessly rebel against following. Her hands, however, are under no such direction, and they wander freely. She maps her stomach with one hand; the other trails still-slick fingers up the back of Hilda's lifted thigh to hold her from behind. All the while, her tongue laps obediently along her clit, in fast, impatient strokes that alternate with slower, deliberately knowing ones to draw her deeper into her mouth.]
no subject
Hm. [She hums, as if the answer is some kind of secret. Well, that's exactly what it means. It's a good thing Hilda may have found the answer to her very own question. At the moment, Rahu isn't in any position to level a response.
The positive feedback rewards the insatiable urge just as much as it fuels it. As enticing as it is to think of pinning her to the ground and rutting against her, devouring her completely, performing well enough to receive such a pleasured response is working her up all the same. Rahu chuckles; maybe there's some genuine satisfaction woven in with that instinctual fulfillment. Something she hasn't experienced in years bubbles to surface: pride. Hilda might as well be patting her on the head and proclaiming she chose her partner well. Rahu would hate it if she were actively thinking about it. Maybe she'll hate it later. Not thinking properly might be her saving grace now.
She stays patiently in place as her head is held. This sort of order is one she feels no need to recklessly rebel against following. Her hands, however, are under no such direction, and they wander freely. She maps her stomach with one hand; the other trails still-slick fingers up the back of Hilda's lifted thigh to hold her from behind. All the while, her tongue laps obediently along her clit, in fast, impatient strokes that alternate with slower, deliberately knowing ones to draw her deeper into her mouth.]