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Tender Thoughts | Milkavi | MetArt porn pics gallery
The long-time partner and close friend watches her from the corner of the room, her own fingers playing in her silky, well-fucked snatch. This lover looks exactly as she would, though taller with a different style. Her tits are high, capped with small but hard and eager nipples that wait to be licked, sucked and bitten by a soft mouth. Her cunt is a tangle of darker red curls, and her eyes shine, wet and pink with the memory of the day's pleasure. The clit, with the barest hint of a hood, is hidden, waiting to be drawn into the daylight. Her mouth opens as Milkavi parts her pretty snatch and the smell of her arousal fills the air. Her mind explodes with lust and she stumbles forward, tearing her dress off in an effort to get at her. Milkavi gasps her desire and turns slightly, allowing the partner to taste the tiny treasure of her droplets, licking the moisture and tasting the earthy warmth of it before her mind pulls her mouth and tongue to Milkavi's full lips. Milkavi cups her face in both hands, then, as the kiss deepens, digs her fingers into the curves of her body. They drink each other down, their moans growing louder as the rest of the room disappears around them and the memory changes as the tension builds. Their bodies, still fully clothed, melt and fall backwards and there is suddenly an ancient, yet very modern bed, in the middle of this endless expanse. Their souls release their hold on the world and begin to strip, slowly, enticing their new and old play partner into the kind of frenzy that usually takes centuries to reach. And if they do. They could be here a while. Vassago had wondered how this had been such a successful strategy over so many millennia, and when it occurred to him, the knowledge was quite literally life-altering. And truthfully, as he rolled into Milkavi's side and lapped the juices from his other playmate's hard and swollen clit, he had a flash of remorse that he'd never felt such pleasure before. He might have lived more cleanly, without sin. Then again, had he met a woman with the insight and cleverness of these two, maybe his self-reflection and mercy would have come more easily. As his face and hands are coated in the slick remains of their orgasms and they begin, in turn, to pull the seed from his aching and tired balls and tongue-fuck him toward unconsciousness, it occurs to Vassago that perhaps not.
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