<div class="floatleft">(http://www.dfwd20.com/photopost/data/522/medium/Human_Fighter1.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: edwardian;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 2.65em;">Alfreic Slate, Soldier</span></span><br/><em>W/ Ms. Ashley; HP 18 (Current 10)</em><br/></strong><hr/><br/>Mr. Slate was delighted by the kiss, simply because it was nothing like a kiss.  It was visceral and hungry, past the boundary of making love and in the country of simply fucking.  His teeth clicked against hers, his tongue roaming over the top of her mouth.  Then he withdrew, pulling at her lips with his snarling teeth.  Then he lunged again and resumed the intense kiss, pushing her backwards but forcing her to keep her ground.<br/><br/>One arm kept her body from falling, while the other hand descended down her lumbar spine and traveled across her rump.  He slid his hand up and down her backside, taking pleasure in the ripeness of her glut, and then kneaded her puckered little star with his thumb.<br/><br/>This was the beginning of the siege, really.  Because his index and middle slid between her legs, and across the valley of her puffed mound.  He lifted her hips just slightly and vigorously drove his fingers inside of her, pushing and pulling, as if he were speedily whipping her pussy into a paste.<br/><br/>"I am going to love this partnership," he hissed as he curled over her, pushing his chiseled figure over her.   "You taste beautiful.  Do you not agree...?"