Niwlat remember him, cherubic lips, strong broad shoulder, and his eyes. Dark they were, and in the light of the fire, they were kaleidoscopic, almost multicolor. They shined like obsidian gems. Tingly....that how she remember it, she felt tingly, and dripping. She wanted to caress him. He smelled...woodsy. Meaty muscle, young, almost boyish, his face unlined. She ate him up with her eyes.
Niwlat touched his arms as they embracing each other before the fireplace. His skin was hot. She felt an electrical charge pass from his skin to hers. She tingled all over.
"I love you" she whispered hoarselt. She couldn't quite remember anything else they had said. It was all just words.
He gently laid her down upon the carpet, her arms wrapped around his neck as he lowered her onto the floor. She wanted him in her mouth. In her. She just wanted him. Moisture trickled down her inner thigh. Her skin hummed.
She don't remember what was said, but his voice was dreamy, almost hypnotic.
Her other hand slipped behind him, massaging his buttocks lighly. Her eyes stared up into his, falling deep within whatever was happening there, the shiny flickering light. Hand slipping down, she found the bulge with her finger. He didn't fight her and let her did as she wanted. She caressed him--it and it was hot, harden. He did want her.
He was just the right size, shapely, circumcised sculpture. She brought him close and kissed him lightly. He smelled salty, sweet, and peppery, exotic. Woodsy.
She took him between her lips and engulfted all of him as if she finally run out of the time. He groaned, and she gave him her best. She had talent, she knew it, and she watched him enjoy.
She squeezed closer, working him in and out of her lips while staring up into those dark obsidian eyes. They were dark before with a tint of flickering light, now they look like stars. His stare plumbed the depths of her soul, and she swallowed his flesh as far down he throat as she could, willing herself to drink him in.
Then he pulled back, and she knew it was time. She let him slip out, slick with her saliva.
"Please don't wait," she hissed
She lay back on the carpet and greedily guide him to her center. He input his tool in slowly, inexorably, filling her more than she could ever remember. She grasped as he began his rhythm, lowering himself onto her but resting all his weight on his arms.
She didn't care anymore. Her senses were now centered on his erection, her pleasure, his rapid pace. His increasing pace....
She moaned and screamed.
Suddenly, he pulled out of her and she felt as if she'd been gutted.
He flipped her, roughly and she let him. She needed more, wanted much more. He took her from behind for a while, riding her---and she reveled in it. He lowered his head, panting, onto her shoulder, and drive her downward into the soft carpet repeatedly despite her voice and moans.
He gripped her hips and bore down, reaching deeper amd deeper inside her, and her eyes crossed from the pleasure. He was still bearing down, and she heard her own rhythmic panting matching his. Without much warming she reached the spot, the highest of the mountain, the place she needed so many men to help her find years later.
Her orgasm rocked her to the core, and she knew she had drenched the floor. When he came moments later, he spurted hot and endlessly into her, and the long moment of pleasure left them both spent, with him lying prone over her back like a living cloak.
She lay back, naked in the musky, intercourse-laden air in front of the fireplace and watch Natit as he dressed. She admired his nakedness, feeling a lingering tingle after their heated lovemaking. The wet spot under her was cold now, and the heat of their coupling dissipated. She was shivering and he went and draped his fur cloak over her, he sat down and wrapped his arms around as she enjoyed his warmth.
"Why didn't I stopped him?" She asked herself that question over and over again.
When he left for his business that night, he never came back again. She still visit him, from time to time.