A Tale Of Zaelith: A Narrative Fiction

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The main square of the town was almost deserted, save for a small group of humans gathered near a broken fountain. Absorbed in their own business, they didn't even notice the woman skulking around the outskirts of the square. For her part, Zaelith had little interest in either their conversation or their company. Too many women. She was determined to have her first proper fuck in almost eight years -- not waste her time on sapphic shenanigans. She looked around and the nearby buildings, trying to settle on which one offered the best chance. The smithy looked to be closed for the night. Light shone through the windows of the large manor on the other end of the square, but half a dozen guards stood around its doorway. The priestess didn't want …show more content…

She opened her mouth to get their attention, but before she had a chance to call out, one of the men noticed her and called out a greeting. "Fancy seein' you hereabouts, Missus Pollard." The one who spoke was leaning against a table, using his apron to wipe down a plate. A portly, middle-aged man with thinning hair and a majestic mustache. He might as well have had the word 'Innkeeper' floating above his head, for all the ambiguity regarding his identity. She nodded in polite acknowledgement, and a moment later he put down the plate and turned to face her. "Ye come for business? 'Fraid the Inn is full, and we aren't servin' dinner …show more content…

Zaelith nuzzled her host's face into his crotch, reveling in the thick, musky scent of his manhood. Despite his obvious reservations, the miner's cock practically leapt to life, growing thick and hard, pushing back against her cheek. She pulled back, letting it spring upright and then pinned it against his belly with her mouth, urgently dragging her moist tongue along the underside of the shaft. It twitched in response, a bead of precum leaking from the throbbing crown and onto her waiting tongue. Even dulled by the magical link, the familiar, salty taste of cum awoke a deep-rooted hunger in the Forsaken. Without sparing a thought for where -- or who -- she was, Zaelith let the bulbous cockhead slide past her lips and towards her waiting throat. When the thick shaft plugged her mouth and cut off her air, her host's mind started flailing in panic, trying desperately to pull away, but Zaelith slapped aside the urge. She even wrapped her hands around the miner's hips to hold him in place. She was drunk on lust, unwilling to reliquish her

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