Fallon's breath hisses through her half-flattened nostrils as she buries herself between Senna's thighs.  Savoring the sweet musk of the girl's sex and the delicate notes of her nectar, Fallon's long, lean-muscled limbs scour the girl with warm, fervent caresses.  Her lapping and throaty noises of satisfaction blur together, the sounds dampened by the wetness of sex and echoing strangely off the hollow of the girl's thigh.  Sating herself at the wet, hungry center sustains her as she begins tender ministrations to the finer points of a lady's sex-- the needs being far beyond pounding or lapping alone, but more in the musical-type stylings of dynamics and tempo to build tension, to focus the energy of a quivering little girl's body to a crashing, thunderous climax.  That's the goal, anyway... for the moment, she studies the prone form up from this angle and wants nothing more than to reduce it to a quivering mass of unconscious flesh, to cripple her with pleasure so that nothing will ever feel so good again.<br/><br/>That cruel streak eases away... it's not malice, really, but greed.   Immaturity of the powerful passions of a wild elf whose goddess fuels and stokes passions' flames like a furnace.<br/><br/>Fallon's body is trembling with eager desire as she laps and kisses at the girl's inner thighs, her labia, her swollen damp outer lips and the pert nub of her clit.  She devours and consumes greedily that which she desires.  "You're going to come again Senna," she says with a voice like black-flower honey.  She must lick her lips to continue unhindered, taking a deep steadying breath.  "But not until I've said so... or I'll stop."  She laughs, the sound so innocent and personal."  Her coppery skin glistens with diamond-dust of sweat, and before she delves back into Senna's sex, she cups her own breast, strokes the girl's sympathetically, savors the contrast between the two bodies and practically groans in adoration.