Wynnie's mattress compressed with a groan under our combined weight. The plush feathers were already warm with the elf’s body heat. She lifted the blankets delicately, inviting me to enter.
Only a delicate slip of fabric separated us now. Her full figure spilled out of her thin nightgown. Threadbare fabric stretched to its limit, doing little to hold back the woman underneath.
She let the blanket drape over us, cocooning us together. Something was changing between us. The long, obvious truth I’d been skirting around for too long grew undeniable with each passing beat.
Whatever barrier still held us apart faded as our bodies settled against each other.
In the dim predawn glare of the room, I could barely make out the flush on Wynnie’s cheeks. Her lips parted expectantly, waiting, as the staccato rhythm of her rapid breaths curled against my collarbone. Thick, soft thighs rubbed against mine, building up a slow, steady friction that crackled with promise.
I could feel her heart pound in her Venus tummy as it squished against mine. She held herself almost tense, still waiting for permission that I thought my kiss had already given.
The smooth, bare skin of her arm shivered under my touch as I traced the pads of my fingers up, cresting her shoulder, then reaching her neck. I grabbed a loose fistful of tangled tresses above her nape.
A soft whimper squeaked in the back of her throat.
Only a fraction of an inch separated our lips, still dewy with each other’s saliva.
“Are… are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure about you.”
“Oh, golly.”
It was plaintive, yearning, and utterly Wynnie.
My mouth found hers again, and plump, petal-soft lips feverishly crushed against mine. Her bittersweet taste teased my tongue. It wasn’t the wine-wet crashing of our first kisses, but rather a muted, measured relief. Her arm curled around me, pulling me into her tighter. Her hand felt along my back as though checking to see if I was really there.
All the restraint I’d built up over the weeks melted as she pressed her tongue into my mouth. Her hips shifted, dimpling the mattress, edging her knee up my thigh. The silky skin of her calf tugged against the fabric of my trousers, and her dainty foot nested against mine.
For several seconds, neither of us dared to move. I held in my breath, not wanting to ruin the moment or overwhelm. Wynnie’s fingers danced under the collar of my shirt, tugging at it uselessly.
She let out a quiet, hungry, frustrated whine.
“Oh, for goodness—come on!”
And the spell was broken.
Our hands roamed all over each other. Her gauzy nightgown concealed nothing, allowing me to feel every goosebump. Every inch I discovered was more mercilessly juicy than the last. In a matter of seconds, the furious wrestling of crumpled blankets and the sounds of heavy, thankful breathing were all that filled the room.
I kissed a hasty trail down Wynnie’s neck and hovered an inch over her collarbone. She laid her head back, stretching out to give my mouth more runway. Her pulse ran hot under my tongue. She arched her back into me, connecting our skin once again.
For an ice mage, she was damn hot. For some reason, I kept expecting a cool, frosty exterior.
Yet the woman who contained all that magic was flesh, blood, and anxiety, just the same as anyone else.
Soft lines accentuated Wynnie’s small but voluptuous frame. The slender curve of her shoulder led to arms that gripped me desperately. My hands dropped, tracing a path down her side, moving towards wide hips that had begun to move in slow, almost deliberate circles.
Her tongue licked lightly at the tip of my ear. Then she bit, gentle as a cat carrying its young.
“I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted you. So, so much.” It was almost a whisper—a long overdue admission and a celebration all at once. “I–I don’t know how. Erm. I don’t know what…”
She didn’t need to say it. Not entirely. She wanted me to guide her.
Yet this was new for me, too. This wasn’t some app fling or ill-advised bar hookup. This was Wynnie. More than any other time, this was real. It meant something.
I paused my nuzzles at the swell of her cleavage, desperate to move further down. The musky, raw scent stirred something deep within. My hand hovered on the crest of her hip as she squirmed, fattening deliciously against my palm.
Her voice came high and nervous. “Is… is everything alright?”
Everything was perfect.
I asked the question, not knowing quite what I meant.
"May I?"
"Absolutely, yes. A thousand times yes. Oh, please. I've been waiting for this for so long. Don’t make me wait any longer—ohh!"
So, whatever I had in mind, Wynnie was down bad.
My fingers roamed tentatively, walking their way toward her chest. An errant thumb brushed against her nipple, and she shivered as it hardened under the light fabric of her nightshirt. I cupped a handful and let my thumb touch the hardened nub again.
Her breaths came quick and choppy, hitching as I circled the pebbled flesh of her areola.
"Oh, wowzers. That feels flippin’ great."
Her curvaceous hips rolled into mine, pressing her humid sex against my thigh. Finally given free roam, my caresses felt lower, traveling toward her backside.
She let out a moan, then a giggle.
"Careful! I'm pretty ticklish on my rump."
I needed to test that theory. I squeezed far more than a handful. Her cheeks somehow put the generous proportions of her chest to shame. Supple, pliant ass attempted to escape between my fingers, and I held on harder to hold it all in.
She moaned again, louder.
"Mmph! Oh my gods, that feels so good. You can squeeze my tush all day if you want."
I chuckled. For someone who talked a lot throughout the process, she sure had an interesting vocabulary for it. Also, for someone who read as inexperienced, she certainly knew what she wanted.
Her delicate hands made their way to my growing cock, feeling its length through the fabric of my trousers. Her fingers paused slightly as they attempted to wrap their way around me.
"Holy cannoli! Are these things always this big, or is it just you?"
"No idea. I haven't seen too many to compare, either."
I mean, sure, I'd watched some porn when I was growing up, and I knew what the guys were packing. For a while, I figured I was around average. It wasn't until later that I realized that, yeah, maybe mine was a bit more to handle than usual.
Especially for a first-timer, which I suspected Wynnie was.
Not that she let that stop her.
"C–can I?” Her hips were grinding a wet spot onto my pants. Our fabrics clung together, glued tight by her arousal. “I–I want to touch it. Please. Just let me feel it. I want to see if I can get my hand around it. Uuughnnn."
That last part was a weird, guttural moan. On its own, it would've sounded lecherous and concerning. Yet in context, I actually found it pretty hot.
My cock lurched in my pants.
"Go ahead."
"Oh, golly, golly, gosh. I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered.
Her fingers slipped beneath my waistband. They wrapped around my cock, stroking it slowly and reverently. The first contact caught my breath. The pad of her thumb rubbed underneath, teasing at the ridge of my crown. Her uncertain grip readjusted, finding tentative, temporary arrangements that sent jolts of desire down my length.
I pulled at the strings of her nightgown, releasing her chest from its sartorial confines. Like a flood, her breasts spilled out of her top, no longer constrained by thin fabric and a simple string. Volume and youth conspired against gravity. They bounced slightly. Stiff nipples stood at attention, marking bullseyes in the center of brownish pink circles.
They beckoned.
In an instant, my mouth found its target. My tongue licked across her soft flesh, tasting the salt of her skin. Her hot breath came at a gasp on the back of my neck. Her grip tightened as I sucked her in.
“Augh, yes. Your–ahh! Your mouth—ahhhh!”
Whatever she started to say exploded into a cry of pleasure as she collapsed into me. I’d latched on. Briefly, but enough.
Her arrhythmic stroking came faster, inexpert but passionate. The awkward, fumbling movements of her hands did nothing to dissuade my dick from its excitement. Her eagerness and tender nature were figuring things out in real time. Slowly, I thrust my hips into her grip, helping her with the pace.
Another whimper, then kisses down my neck. Then, with fantastic instincts, she pulled my face into her chest. Weighty flesh surrounded me on all sides. Her tits painted my cheeks with a slick sheen of perspiration.
If I suffocated, at least I’d die happy.
In a muffled tone, her perplexed voice cut through my reverie.
"Jeepers, man. Are you flexing this thing or something?"
I pulled my head back to answer. "Um, no."
"It's just so hard. Your wood is stiffer than the stuff they made the Breakwater Inn from."
"Maybe it's a human thing."
Or maybe it had just been a while. I hadn't really released since I'd arrived, but I'd certainly thought about it. With the way Wynnie's boobs were always prominently on display no matter what she wore, I'd been primed with immaculate spank bank material. And I'd saved up, accruing interest.
She squeezed the breast I hadn’t yet given its due.
"Can you kiss them again? My milk jugs, I mean?"
Oh, so maybe that was where the term jugs came from.
I latched on like a baby. A horny baby. She threw her head back and growled as I let instinct take over. My hand roamed lower, wrestling with the softest part of her ass. The tips of my fingers could feel the radiating heat from her wet pussy just inches away.
She dry—no, wet—humped my leg harder while I played with her other nipple.
“Thats. So. Augh! Good. Holy heck.” She gasped, blinking back a religious experience, panting out each word. “I want so, so, so much more of you.”
Our cocoon of sheets had grown almost suffocatingly hot. The damp spot on my leg dripped down to the mattress, wetting the sheet. The eerie, early light of morning rendered the plump Elven innkeeper in beautiful shades of blurry gray.
All I could think of was her. Feeling her. Comforting her. Loving her. Making this room my own, and tying our lives together in one single, definite act.
I brushed a strand of loose hair from her eyes.
"Do you want me to touch you? I mean, on your..." I searched my mind for an acceptable term that Wynnie would feel comfortable using for herself. "Your secret garden?"
"Oooh! I—um. What?" She perked up, then turned quizzical.
"Your lady's paradise?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I cringed. "Your hoo-hah?"
"Oh! You mean my cunt?"
Not what I expected.
"Gods, yes, I want you to touch my cunt. I want you to lick it, fuck it, massage my clit, and put as many fingers in there as I can stand.” She chewed her lip nervously, no doubt feeling the aching pulse of desire throbbing in my cock. “But not right now."
My dick nearly flagged in disappointment. If it weren't for the tremendous well of lust boiling in my loins, it might have.
"I'm just not sure I'm ready. This is still my first, um, encounter. I think I need to feel in control.” Her hand was still stroking me, slow and smooth now, accustomed to the rhythm of my desire. “But if you’re okay with it, I'd love to, you know, try to do yours?"
From as far as I could tell, she already was trying to do mine. Her fingertips kept curling over my tip. With unpracticed technique, she smeared precum over me, lubricating everything. What had started off as uncomfortable and jerky had become sensuous and loving.
Her chest jiggled with every movement. Her meaningful eye contact pulled the words from my mouth before I could think them.
"Fuck yes. Full send," I said, trusting her to understand.
"If you want, I could kiss it."
Well, now, we were talking. My dick flexed in response.
I think she got the idea.
"Okay, you bad, naughty boy. Let me give you some tender kisses down below on your peenie."
I let out a heavy breath. It was cute, but we were going to have to work on her euphemisms. Something about most of the terms she used just weren't quite sexy enough for me. Assuming there was a second time, I was hoping she might step her game up a bit.
She huffed, sliding down my body, shoving the covers aside. Finally, she hefted her thigh all the way over, straddling me. For a second, she looked down at my dick, bobbing, waiting. Then, she showed me exactly what she meant by tender kisses down below.
Maybe she couldn’t say the word cock, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t excited to have one in her mouth. Her juicy lips enveloped my tip and sucked. The wet heat of her mouth enveloped me, garbling every thought in my head. My muscles stiffened, suddenly overwhelmed by every nerve ending firing at once.
Which her tongue swirled around my head, her hand kept stroking me.
The dark room lit up as I saw stars.
She curled her tongue up, dragging it along the underside of my cock. If she’d figured that out on her own, she was a keeper for sure. My fingers found her hair, gripping on for dear life as she pressed down further, taking me halfway in.
I pulled her hair from the roots. She moaned on my cock in response, her vocal cords vibrating intensely. I pulled harder. She moaned louder, and the aroma of her excitement filled the room.
“Agk! Gak!”
She reared back, coughing and gagging after my crown bruised her throat. Yet doggedly, she returned, taking me in just as deep as before with renewed determination. Her head bobbed up and down as she slurped at me. Her hand kept tempo.
A curious, sparkling sensation built at my base. It ran up my spine. I tightened my stomach as she cupped my balls with her free hand.
“Is this okay?”
I wheezed an unintelligible response.
The room came back into focus as I uncrossed my eyes. For a second I couldn't get to words. "It's better than good. It's great!" I said, accidentally channeling my inner Tony the Tiger.
Instead, my fingers slid through her scalp, leaving her hair and grabbing her long, pointed ears. The tips felt at once firm yet pliable. I massaged the soft cartilage, and she groaned, throaty and deep.
Still stroking, she looked up at me through cascading hair and thick eyelashes.
"You taste good. I want you to fill my mouth completely."
With that, she attempted to swallow me whole once more. This time, she was prepared. Her throat closed around my length. A few concerning sounds escaped her mouth as she did her best not to choke.
Perseverance won out. She kept going, throating me ferociously, even while gagging.
At that rate, it wouldn't be long before I did fill her mouth.
All the time we’d waited. All the stolen glances and casual touches that I convinced myself were just friendly. Every night we’d spent learning the way each other felt, lived, and experienced life. Everything we’d shared while getting caught in the other’s orbit.
It all built up like pressure and pleasure. We were almost there. We just needed a release.
All I could do was gasp out a warning.
The second I said something, she merely redoubled her efforts, sucking me harder and tending not just to the shaft, but the balls as well. Belatedly, I realized I'd been holding my breath. Everything felt tingly, from my face and toes to the base of my scrotum.
I looked down. Barely visible in the dim light, I could see her face slick with effort. Tears streaked down from her eyes. She looked up at me through a few stray strands of chestnut hair, fixing me with pleading, soulful determination.
Her massive breasts dragged against my legs as she rocked forward and back, up and down.
Her look was one of pure devotion. To Wynnie, this was clearly not just lust. There was something deeper and stronger behind her reverent gaze. This wasn’t just her way of taking control, nor was it a service to me.
It was her gift to us. The first of many.
And her eyes, unblinking, never broke contact.
It sent me right over the edge.
I shot my first load into her mouth.
Not expecting it, she reared back, her face suddenly surprised.
"Oh! That was crazy! It tastes kind of sweet and salty, but it's really sticky, and—oh! You're still going!"
A second rope landed across her face, then a third. Several more burst forth, painting her with my best Jackson Pollock impression.
My seed dripped down her adoring expression. Dangled from her eyebrow. Ran down her cheek. Stung the corner of her eye, which she cleared with a careful fingertip and then deposited onto her waiting tongue.
Maybe I should have apologized, but instead, I just felt comfortable. I wanted to see her like that. I wanted her marked, somehow, even if nobody else would ever see or know.
She licked her lips and looked at me with astonishment, delight, and satisfaction.
"Gee whiz. I didn't know it was going to be like that! I mean, I've heard some sailors make crass jokes, but I didn't realize there was any truth to them!"
"Hey, is your eye okay?"
She blinked back irritation. The corner was already turning slightly red and bloodshot. Still, she smiled genuinely.
"Eye don't care if you don't. Get it? Eye?"
It wasn't her best work, but I nodded with a grin, anyway. She smiled back, then pouted.
Her weight shifted back so that her thighs settled on my legs. Her shoulders drooped, and her head hung loosely to the side.
"Oh phooey. All I want to do now is cuddle with you, but I have to wake up and warm the stupid scones for our guests."
Her priorities might be slightly out of order. She was missing something important, I thought. Wait till she saw a mirror. Her first instinct would be to towel off if she knew what she looked the way she did.
Still, snuggling sounded amazing.
"Maybe five minutes of cuddling couldn't hurt," I said, thinking it wouldn't make much difference whether she was out there over a stove or in here next to me.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Far off, coming from the direction of the docks, I heard a bell clanging, frantic and loud. It was the alarm.