<span style="font-weight: bold">Wilnomna</span><br/><br/>There’s a nice, firm lump in my oesophagus, and I can feel its face pressing out against my throat. The mounds of its breasts are soft beneath my tongue, and delicious to boot, but I’m hungry, so, so hungry, and my saliva is already drooling down the archer’s legs, to spool and drip from her cute little toes.<br/><br/>I swallow, firmly, and feel the crown of her head press against the sphincter atop my stomach, that muscular orifice squeezing and massaging her in greeting, eager to usher her into the gurgling pit below. My tongue slips between her now-bared thighs, and begins to lick at the smooth petals within.<br/><br/>“Mmm…” I shudder in raw pleasure, “thank you Elisia. Food is so much<span style="font-style: italic">better</span>with a little honey to season it, and half-elf honey is the best of all, especially when it’s fresh,” I smile. “You’re such convenient meals.” I nod at the panties she’s so focused upon. “You can keep those,” I say, “she won’t need them where she’s going. I don’t wear underthings.”