[Well, wasn’t that cute. The squeak and the buck that makes her moan. The way his tail curls so flush and insistent to her leg as he asserts himself, the scales smooth and warm. If his senses weren’t blown out on the slick heat of her cunt… he’d be able to feel how her calf tightens in its wrap when her foot arched and her toes curled. Her own tail wasn’t nearly so prehensile, but…
The slow, lazy wag is interrupted by her own tells, the occasional quick little flick out of the appendage when sparks race down her spine and keep going, going, to the very last vertebrae. It’s where the snap of pleasure from his off guard buck went… but once the white fluff was under control…]
Don’t do this… don’t do that…
[Her tone is almost a song, low and rumbling with each syllable rolled carefully on the tongue before it passed her lips. Combined with a smirk or a sharp look it could easily be heard as mocking, but with a soft pout and lidded gaze… it sounds genuinely contemplative, like she truly needed to know,]
If I can’t touch you… what am I supposed to touch?
[In the seize of his grip, more palm applying pressure, the painful sharpness of claw tips a problem for the mattress instead, her wrist wriggles and adjusts, not seeking escape… but just enough of a change in angle to be able to curl her fingers and drag the tips of her own sharp nails over his skin. Her other hand seems to reach but then makes a show of not being sure if she was allowed to cup his cheek or stroke his hair, instead falling back to her own body, to the swell of a heavy breast she could squeeze… and the ring pierced through her nipple she could flick.]
Do I not get to talk, either… ? You don’t want to know how good it feels… ? Those twin cocks of yours-
[Though she was obviously (decidedly) more in control of herself than he was… when he finally begins to thrust, slow and straining and yet oh-so-on-the-edge, she still has to cut herself off for a whimper and a nip into her bottom lip, sharp teeth catching on soft pink. It doesn’t last, she lets out a shaky exhale, but in the process Kiritsubo flexes her hips to spread her thighs just a little bit more, open herself up to hotter, silkier, deeper… if he wanted to take it. For a moment she is too enthralled with him, the way his determined push forward “forces” her own knees up further, back arching, the colors of her tattoos rippling on moving flesh. His upper cock covers the bonji on her pubis, but the lotus above her womb, the wasp upon her breast…
It almost seems like the petals are on the verge of opening each time an eager clench ripples down the muscles of her torso. Like the wasp’s wings flutter with each anticipation-laced breath, quick and shaky. Yet despite how those might draw the gaze… She urges him back up to her face. To the sultry whisper of,]
Do I not get a kiss… ?
[Her black eyes「see」truth… but it is her lips that choose whether or not to speak it. Or act on it.]
Screaming a little
The slow, lazy wag is interrupted by her own tells, the occasional quick little flick out of the appendage when sparks race down her spine and keep going, going, to the very last vertebrae. It’s where the snap of pleasure from his off guard buck went… but once the white fluff was under control…]
Don’t do this… don’t do that…
[Her tone is almost a song, low and rumbling with each syllable rolled carefully on the tongue before it passed her lips. Combined with a smirk or a sharp look it could easily be heard as mocking, but with a soft pout and lidded gaze… it sounds genuinely contemplative, like she truly needed to know,]
If I can’t touch you… what am I supposed to touch?
[In the seize of his grip, more palm applying pressure, the painful sharpness of claw tips a problem for the mattress instead, her wrist wriggles and adjusts, not seeking escape… but just enough of a change in angle to be able to curl her fingers and drag the tips of her own sharp nails over his skin. Her other hand seems to reach but then makes a show of not being sure if she was allowed to cup his cheek or stroke his hair, instead falling back to her own body, to the swell of a heavy breast she could squeeze… and the ring pierced through her nipple she could flick.]
Do I not get to talk, either… ? You don’t want to know how good it feels… ? Those twin cocks of yours-
[Though she was obviously (decidedly) more in control of herself than he was… when he finally begins to thrust, slow and straining and yet oh-so-on-the-edge, she still has to cut herself off for a whimper and a nip into her bottom lip, sharp teeth catching on soft pink. It doesn’t last, she lets out a shaky exhale, but in the process Kiritsubo flexes her hips to spread her thighs just a little bit more, open herself up to hotter, silkier, deeper… if he wanted to take it. For a moment she is too enthralled with him, the way his determined push forward “forces” her own knees up further, back arching, the colors of her tattoos rippling on moving flesh. His upper cock covers the bonji on her pubis, but the lotus above her womb, the wasp upon her breast…
It almost seems like the petals are on the verge of opening each time an eager clench ripples down the muscles of her torso. Like the wasp’s wings flutter with each anticipation-laced breath, quick and shaky. Yet despite how those might draw the gaze… She urges him back up to her face. To the sultry whisper of,]
Do I not get a kiss… ?
[Her black eyes「see」truth… but it is her lips that choose whether or not to speak it. Or act on it.]