"A gemstone eh?" he asked as her hand slid up his thigh.  His leg was soft but with loose wrinkled skin, yet there was warmth and heat in that skin.  The old man may have been a grey beard, but he was still healthy and alive.  Her hand found his soft manhood as he held the gem up to the light.<br/><br/>Marcheron held the gem up to the light and the white engraved runes glinted in the light of his lamps.  He gasped and froze for a moment, then drew in a great shuddering breath.  In Brea's hand, suddenly the old man's soft cock lept and stiffened in a moment.  His cock great turgid and stiff far more quickly than many men she'd lain with, it was the reaction of a youth, not an old man.   Then as he finished drawing in his breath he threw the gem from his hand, it landed on the table in front of him and skittered into a pile of scrolls.<br/><br/>"Magic!" he claimed, "I had a vision of..."  It was then that he'd realized that Brea's hand was wrapped around his cock, which was now turgid and pulsing and poking from his robe.  "By the fiery tongue of Bahmut," he muttered, "It's been years since I've had a rod of more strength than a soft sausage, and decades since I've had one like this."<br/><br/>He seemed as fascinated by his cock suddenly as anything else.  Then turning to Brea he grinned, "If you want my help, you'll show me how much you want it first."