blackmagicjack1
3rd Level Red Feather
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- Aug 22, 2003
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A little expirment in writng. Comments are welcome.
The satyr walked through the woods, quietly looking for prey. He passed stream and pond with no sight of anything to satisfy his hunger. Over hill and valley, yet nothing delicious to savor. He was near despair, and his hunger was turning to anger when he stopped on the edge of a grove. Looking through the pines standing sentry, he spotted his meal. Such a lush specimen that he could feast on for days.
He crouched down and slowly crept towards his intended target. Not being noticed, he went from tree to rock to bush, and was soon was in range to pounce. And pounce he did! In moments the succulent nymph was his, wrapped in his strong arms. He could not believe his luck. She was short, but lithe, and had curves that would make the rivers and mountains jealous. Knowing the secrets of the nymphs, swiftly he pulled to strands of her long blond hair tying her wrists and ankles with them. Looking down at his prize with a fierce grin upon his face, he knew she was his for the taking. No nymph could break her own hair.
Crouching down beside her, he sucked in her scent reveling in the smell of jasmine, pine, and an underlying promise of delight to any man. Then he tasted her, letting his tongue travel from her jaw to the upper swell of her breast. Laughing, for with that taste he knew that though she may be scared secretly she hungered for what he promised. His hands went to her thighs, tracing light feather touches across the outsides to the insides, barely grazing her most sensitive of spots. As he teased these gateways to her most intimate of secrets, his tongue laved at her ears, throat, and the tips of her rosy pink nipples.
His blood boiled as he caressed his victim, and he almost thought to take her their then, but he had other plans. This was a meal to be savored, to be consumed in total. He slid his hands up to her hips, continuing his irritating onslaught of her flesh, while straddling her thighs to let his manhood rest against the slopes of Venus. Letting his hands run from hips to ribs to the hallows of her arms, the satyr savored every little touch of his succulent meal. He feasted on the underneaths of her breasts, growing heady on the woman's scent. His hunger was fever pitch despite what he had already consumed.
It was time, but was she ready. Slipping down her ever youthful body, stopping to tease and torment tender spots, he stopped when his nose was to her pearl of pleasure. It was swathed in the sweat of arousal. To be sure he slipped his finger inside of her, pulling out to lick the sweet nectar from it. He spasmed at the sheer joy of its taste, almost loosing control. With a growl, he let his finger softly travel in circles around the nymph's pearl. He would not have his satisfaction until he had her.
A look in her eye told him much more of his ministrations and the chase would be off, so he flicked of the golden strands binding her. Standing with her ensconced in his arms, he held every curve of her backside to him.
Whispering in her ear, “Run little morsel, for when I catch you I mean to have you in whole, and you won't ever be the same.” With that he let her loose and the chase was on!
Prelude to Dinner
The satyr walked through the woods, quietly looking for prey. He passed stream and pond with no sight of anything to satisfy his hunger. Over hill and valley, yet nothing delicious to savor. He was near despair, and his hunger was turning to anger when he stopped on the edge of a grove. Looking through the pines standing sentry, he spotted his meal. Such a lush specimen that he could feast on for days.
He crouched down and slowly crept towards his intended target. Not being noticed, he went from tree to rock to bush, and was soon was in range to pounce. And pounce he did! In moments the succulent nymph was his, wrapped in his strong arms. He could not believe his luck. She was short, but lithe, and had curves that would make the rivers and mountains jealous. Knowing the secrets of the nymphs, swiftly he pulled to strands of her long blond hair tying her wrists and ankles with them. Looking down at his prize with a fierce grin upon his face, he knew she was his for the taking. No nymph could break her own hair.
Crouching down beside her, he sucked in her scent reveling in the smell of jasmine, pine, and an underlying promise of delight to any man. Then he tasted her, letting his tongue travel from her jaw to the upper swell of her breast. Laughing, for with that taste he knew that though she may be scared secretly she hungered for what he promised. His hands went to her thighs, tracing light feather touches across the outsides to the insides, barely grazing her most sensitive of spots. As he teased these gateways to her most intimate of secrets, his tongue laved at her ears, throat, and the tips of her rosy pink nipples.
His blood boiled as he caressed his victim, and he almost thought to take her their then, but he had other plans. This was a meal to be savored, to be consumed in total. He slid his hands up to her hips, continuing his irritating onslaught of her flesh, while straddling her thighs to let his manhood rest against the slopes of Venus. Letting his hands run from hips to ribs to the hallows of her arms, the satyr savored every little touch of his succulent meal. He feasted on the underneaths of her breasts, growing heady on the woman's scent. His hunger was fever pitch despite what he had already consumed.
It was time, but was she ready. Slipping down her ever youthful body, stopping to tease and torment tender spots, he stopped when his nose was to her pearl of pleasure. It was swathed in the sweat of arousal. To be sure he slipped his finger inside of her, pulling out to lick the sweet nectar from it. He spasmed at the sheer joy of its taste, almost loosing control. With a growl, he let his finger softly travel in circles around the nymph's pearl. He would not have his satisfaction until he had her.
A look in her eye told him much more of his ministrations and the chase would be off, so he flicked of the golden strands binding her. Standing with her ensconced in his arms, he held every curve of her backside to him.
Whispering in her ear, “Run little morsel, for when I catch you I mean to have you in whole, and you won't ever be the same.” With that he let her loose and the chase was on!
