<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/5Iu92Tn.jpeg)</div>Tamrithra nearly lost herself in Tipperary’s embrace, letting her ministrate her experienced attention upon her body in turn.<br/><br/>“They will never lay a hand on you again,” she whispered softly, kissing Tip. “You can be mine, but as my partner, not a slave.”<br/><br/>She was unsure how much of it was role-play, but Tamrithra decided that a heartfelt promise would be felt even more strongly. And she meant it. At this point her clothes were entirely off, her tail brushing up and down Tip’s pale body, Tamrithra’s own brown-toned flesh contrasting nicely against it in the dim light. They shared more intermittent kisses as their slits ground against each other, the Nyemai’s hands grasping breasts, gently trailing down sides and spines, legs tangled as much with each other as the bedsheets. Tamrithra lost track of time and her own center of gravity, so wrapped up she was in Tip and only Tip.<br/><br/>“You feel...nice...Tipperary…” she mewed. “I love it.”