The make-shift make-out session ended with an abrupt pop. Oh, so rudely interrupted... Spittle glued the plush set of cushions together in the moment of parting. Brilliant strings drizzled pendulous between them; thin ropes breaking off onto her rounded chin. A hollow emptiness soon ached from within her. She found her mouth awfully unoccupied all of a sudden. She was both surprised and ashamed to find herself longing after mere moments of absence. Her dilating pupils rolled sluggishly in their sockets, taking in the arousing scenario of Dolly's unceremonious undressing. The way the other's attire cracked fiercely around her slender body had her thighs clambering together in awkward, nervous temptation. Elisa herself was in a similar position, a thousand muscles twisting and tingling deliciously against the hard-weaved prison of the man’s greedy hands. A tingle rolled down the faint outline that split her back, following it all the way down to the inviting cleft of her rump, cheeks well-rounded and lush; too mouth-watering and fuckable for any sane man to ignore, regardless of motives and resolve. Full and bountiful would be a vast understatement. There was an irresistible and longing vulnerability in her round doe eyes as she gazed on.<br/><br/>Filled her with an unbearable urgency even beyond her normal, admittedly muted, but unholy appetites, she snapped her fingers and in a harmless frenzy of sparks, brimstone breaking off, she stood naked, barren as the day she was born. Whether they struggled or not, who had time to fumble with obnoxious clothes when a thorough cunt-stuffing was on the table, ripe for the taking? Either way, she basked sweetly in the plentitude of attention, luscious orbs swaying out in their simultaneously perky defiance and deliciously weighty collusion with gravity. The stark nakedness had a body-tingling effect travel down splendid core, and her pale skin crawled visibly 'fore it. She pulsated with radiating warmth now, callused by her surroundings, iron on her waist, unstopped fingers journeying south. The charm of her physique stole insensibly upon most men and why wouldn't it with its long, clean and symmetrical lines, with nary a bodily hair to be glimpsed. She went cross-eyed in the moment of contact, wayward fingers confident, and her tiny tongue lolled out, small and dainty, welcoming, like a red carpet. Only the finest velvety smoothness for her guests.<br/><br/>With eager ears jutting skywards, like two hollow horns; not to be confused with his actual horns, the bulky frame of a beastman entered periphery. The thick-framed rim of his horned head grew steadily closer, and she let gentle fingers lace loosely around the coarse surface, clambering curiously at the satyr's muscular, furry back. She wanted to indulge in his origin, listen to his tales, observe his behaviour, partake in his undoubtedly alcoholic ventures... explore his animalistic traits, but for now, caught in a roiling apiary, she resigned herself to the adventure with rolling shoulders, a high-riding, coy smile and a breathy mewl.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(147, 101, 184)">"And here I thought that righteous traits for a rogue remained elusive, evasive, persistent. Marking your territory like that. How unprofessional,"</span>she mentally chided the man, purring amusingly while making a few alternations in her stance, smiling sheepishly as she re-positioned herself. At this point, she was prepared for her neck to be red and chafed, ruff starched stiff. Her voluptuous hips slid against the man's obscene bulk, fragile toes rearing up, curling in the grass bedding; the curve of her spine accentuating perfectly as she let her waist tumble through a gyration that would have awed even the most exotic dancer. The blood rushed through her ears, her nose filled with the exotic scent of permeating arousal as time around the hedonistic craft of their doing remained frozen and like a flame springing alight among dark foliage, they were solitary in their existence. She was hopelessly attracted to everything and everyone, with the kind of heady trance that brought a butterfly to nectar. Undoubtedly the doing of own concoction. Not to say that she wasn't naturally attracted to the lot. They all held a unique beauty that separated them from the weaving crowd.