With a crooked smile, Cicero’s other hand went to the other nipple and pinched in tune with the first. The listener’s body arched off the bed again, and a gasp came with it. Cicero watched Dyorn’s face, watched to see if the elf would wake and ruin his fun. But the elf didn’t wake. Cicero knew that meant he could have all the fun he wanted with the sleeping listener, and oh how Cicero loved to have fun!
Cicero crawled over the listener, straddled the listener and pinned his hips to the bed while tracing the scars cursed upon such a wonderful body. Cicero giggled as he leaned over, biting at a nipple so close to the listeners heart, so close to that life’s blood. The body below him shuddered and twitched, rubbing against Cicero. The listener’s body felt so good beneath Cicero. Cicero’s fingers trailed down dark sides as his mouth mutilated one nipple just to jump to the next.
Cicero certainly enjoyed it when the listener’s body trembled as his fingers came close to the loin cloth. But Cicero was a tease, so he didn’t touch. Instead, Cicero’s teasing fingers found the skin on the inside of the listener’s thighs. The poor listener let out a hissing gasp, Cicero’s fingers so close to where the listener wanted them. But Cicero was a teasing jester, Cicero wasn’t going to let the listener’s desperate body get the better of him. Oh no, Cicero wanted the listener to be on edge before he got what he wanted.
Cicero got up on his knees to move down the bed, move down the listeners legs. He touched the listener’s thighs as he did so, feeling the skin and enjoying the feel of the elf he never thought he would touch. Cicero lived to serve, Cicero never thought this would be how he could serve the listener. Such a powerful listener, such a beautiful listener. Cicero giggled even as he lowered himself again the listener’s body, his lips and tongue traveling the scars that crisscrossed such smooth skin. The listener didn’t have hair on his chest, not like the Nords did, didn’t have hair on his legs or arms. Did elves get hair? Oh, there went Cicero’s mind! Betraying and betwixing him when he wanted nothing more than to play with the listener!
Ignoring his mind, ignoring the thoughts plaguing him, Cicero pulled at the Listeners loin cloth. He tugged the knots free and exposed what the power that Cicero had over the Listener. That straining shaft, the large head, all swollen for Cicero! The Jester giggled and moved past it, merely blowing a wisp of air over the bulbous head. No, Cicero wasn’t going to play with that now. Cicero wanted to play with something else!
Dyorn’s balls hung below his shaft, heavy with seed and tight with arousal. Cicero giggled and fingered them. They were so warm! So heavy! They smelled so good and looked so tasty. Cicero helped himself, licking at the heavy flesh, tasting the skin and humming to himself. So delicious! He took one into his mouth while his hands explored lower.
The listener has not woken. The listener must be dreaming, dreaming of what Cicero was doing to him. Cicero’s fingers trailed over the flesh behind the listeners balls, which felt so large, so good, in Cicero’s mouth. He would prepare his listener, would finger and open and oil the listener, for his keeper. Cicero giggled around the mouthful, causing the body to rock upwards and for Cicero to pause. Was the listener awake? Did Cicero wake the listener when he didn’t want to?
Pulling his head away, Cicero saw that he hadn’t. Cicero was still free to play! But Cicero needed to find the oil to keep playing. Lucky Cicero still had the oil he used on mothers skin in his pouch.
Keeping the Listener : 2/?
Cicero crawled over the listener, straddled the listener and pinned his hips to the bed while tracing the scars cursed upon such a wonderful body. Cicero giggled as he leaned over, biting at a nipple so close to the listeners heart, so close to that life’s blood. The body below him shuddered and twitched, rubbing against Cicero. The listener’s body felt so good beneath Cicero. Cicero’s fingers trailed down dark sides as his mouth mutilated one nipple just to jump to the next.
Cicero certainly enjoyed it when the listener’s body trembled as his fingers came close to the loin cloth. But Cicero was a tease, so he didn’t touch. Instead, Cicero’s teasing fingers found the skin on the inside of the listener’s thighs. The poor listener let out a hissing gasp, Cicero’s fingers so close to where the listener wanted them. But Cicero was a teasing jester, Cicero wasn’t going to let the listener’s desperate body get the better of him. Oh no, Cicero wanted the listener to be on edge before he got what he wanted.
Cicero got up on his knees to move down the bed, move down the listeners legs. He touched the listener’s thighs as he did so, feeling the skin and enjoying the feel of the elf he never thought he would touch. Cicero lived to serve, Cicero never thought this would be how he could serve the listener. Such a powerful listener, such a beautiful listener. Cicero giggled even as he lowered himself again the listener’s body, his lips and tongue traveling the scars that crisscrossed such smooth skin. The listener didn’t have hair on his chest, not like the Nords did, didn’t have hair on his legs or arms. Did elves get hair? Oh, there went Cicero’s mind! Betraying and betwixing him when he wanted nothing more than to play with the listener!
Ignoring his mind, ignoring the thoughts plaguing him, Cicero pulled at the Listeners loin cloth. He tugged the knots free and exposed what the power that Cicero had over the Listener. That straining shaft, the large head, all swollen for Cicero! The Jester giggled and moved past it, merely blowing a wisp of air over the bulbous head. No, Cicero wasn’t going to play with that now. Cicero wanted to play with something else!
Dyorn’s balls hung below his shaft, heavy with seed and tight with arousal. Cicero giggled and fingered them. They were so warm! So heavy! They smelled so good and looked so tasty. Cicero helped himself, licking at the heavy flesh, tasting the skin and humming to himself. So delicious! He took one into his mouth while his hands explored lower.
The listener has not woken. The listener must be dreaming, dreaming of what Cicero was doing to him. Cicero’s fingers trailed over the flesh behind the listeners balls, which felt so large, so good, in Cicero’s mouth. He would prepare his listener, would finger and open and oil the listener, for his keeper. Cicero giggled around the mouthful, causing the body to rock upwards and for Cicero to pause. Was the listener awake? Did Cicero wake the listener when he didn’t want to?
Pulling his head away, Cicero saw that he hadn’t. Cicero was still free to play! But Cicero needed to find the oil to keep playing. Lucky Cicero still had the oil he used on mothers skin in his pouch.
(More to come)