Fred Sparkrock: Burning Desires

Last night they had made love. Today they lusted in an abandoned want for each other.

In animal-like hunger, he battered into the soft lips of her open cunt.

Each hard stroke seeking and finding the new untouched depths of her yearning channel. Deeper and deeper he thrust into the soft, spongy recesses of her hot pussy. He slammed into the hunching mound of sex, spraying its lips wide under the heavy impacts of his crotch.

The thickening lips of her cock-hungry cunt followed every movement of his lust-shaft. Lovingly caressing the length of his commanding man-meat, they flowered outward in a tight pink ring of clutching muscles. Then the wanton mouth closed as he rammed forward, driving the flowing lips back into her.

His balls slapped sweat-slicked at the bottom of the slash of her cunt as he drilled into the welcoming hole of her desire. Gripping his length, the soft, silken channel closed around him in humid warmth. She squeezed and warmly trapped his cock.

She moaned and writhed against the body above her. The lust-laden globes of her breasts squirmed at his chest, drilling their stiff nipples into his skin. He speared into her and her pelvis bucked up to gather more of the swollen shaft that dominated her body.

As her fingernails bit into the demi-globes of his rock-hard ass, he pounded violently into her. His pelvis ground into her fully aroused clitoris, forcing further groans of lust from her quivering lips.

In the sensual desperation of her near climatic condition, she twisted and bucked with a reckless abandon that matched his own. As he drove her closer and closer to the threshold of release, she seemed to find the control of her vaginal muscles and squeezed. Tighter and tighter the puckered ring of pink lips clutched at his cockstaff. Her cunt seemed to milk and suck at him, lovingly and flowingly.

Her now ecstatically wild whimpers, moans, cries and groans announced the nearness of her coming. Wanting to reach that peak with her, he whipped on the burrowing speed of his plowing pole. In a frantic frenzy, he slammed into her cunt, drilling into the spongy texture of her volcanic channel. Grunting and groaning in near bestial fever, he wrenched his swollen rod from the tight vaginal folds, then plunged back, entrenching himself once more in her depths.

Her whole body shuddered and quaked under the dam-breaking tidal waves of ecstasy that raced up from her burning loins, finally ending in a nova of white hot light exploding in orgasmic release in her brain. Her body was no longer hers! It belonged to the conquering sensations that tore it apart with pleasure, then assembled it and blasted it apart again.

As if attempting to retain some contact with the world she had been rocketed from as she came, her nails bit into his ass deeply, then raked up the stiffened contours of his back. She thrashed and writhed and twisted beneath his body. Her moans and groans had turned to abandoned cries of pleasure.

With perfect timing, his own body went rigid and he drilled deeply into her orgasm-exploding body. He shuddered and quaked as his testicles freely gave up the boiling load they had held. Seemingly, gallon upon gallon of thick, white cream emptied itself gratefully into the surrounding heat of her body.

The liquid warmth of her pleasure-overloaded channel contracted and relaxed around his spasmodically pulsing rod. The gentle soft insistence of her caressing folds lovingly flowed around the swollen, jerking root of his lust, soothing him with fulfilled embraces.

Slowly the lulling waters of satisfaction washed through their coupled bodies, replacing the violent desperation of their coming. Their lips thankfully brushed over each other and their hands tenderly stroked the cooling flesh of their bodies. Their actions had no other purpose other than just to feel the closeness of skin on skin.

When at last he rolled from this girl, transformed into a very enticing woman, she snuggled back against him, her head laying on his chest.

Tenderly, he caressed the silken softness of her short red hair that was completely in a wild disarray that pleased him. The warm flow of her breath streamed from her nostrils and tickled its way through the forest of curly black hairs on his chest.

Neither of them spoke or moved, afraid of losing, too soon, the intimate contact of their bodies and spoiling the memories of ecstasy they had shared. The softness of their breathing blended with the rustle of a morning breeze that stirred through the great forest around them.

Somewhere in the distance the high-pitched cry that had first drawn him from his sleep sounded again.

"Listen," she said, raising her head toward the sound. "Do you hear it?"

He nodded to her inquiring gaze and she continued, "It's an ottuff-jay!"

By her tone he realized that he was expected to know what she was describing, but he didn't. "A whatinjay?"

She chuckled at his obvious ignorance, hazel eyes afire with glowing specks of green, "An ottuff-jay."

Grinning at the definitely elfin-looking girl, he shook his head, admitting his ignorance.

"It's a wild game fowl that inhabits these woods," she explained. "It's considered quite a delicacy in Hort-tender and succulent."

He smiled, "Do I happen to detect that milady is hungry?"

"Famished," she laughed in a crystal clear ring that seemed to sing. "I don't think I can ever remember feeling so ravishingly famished."

"Howsabout I bring one of those ottuffamuthings in for breakfast?" he suggested.

His answer was a warm hug and a sloppy wet kiss that smothered his lips.

"I guess that pretty well answers the question," he said, disentangling himself from her arms. "But I won't be bringing home the bacon unless I get off my ass."

She laughed as they scooted from the sleeping bag together. The brisk morning air sent chilled gooseflesh prickling over their naked skin.

Trotting to the still glowing embers of their campfire, Ponkert allowed his rear to become toastingly warm as Elf hastily slipped into her brown and green outfit, once more taking on the very deceptive tomboy appearance. Grinning, she trotted to his side and began helping him into his own clothes.

"Do you think you should be doing this with that arm of yours?" she asked as she gently worked the soft fabric of his shirt over his bandaged right arm.

"Woman," he said watching her eyes glow with satisfaction at the sound of the word, "don't put a damper on my gallantry. I've got that laser I did in the direwolves with, which should be able to handle a measly little bird."

She nodded as she buttoned the three clasps at the neck of his blouse-like shirt.

"But I'm afraid I'll come home empty-handed, if you don't describe this tasty ottuff-jay to me."

"Mayhap you are right, my baron," she smiled. "But there will be no difficulty in finding the bird. Just follow the sound of his calls. When you see it, there will be no doubt that you have seen an ottuff-jay. The bird is the size of one of our tame hens in Hort. However, it is featherless except for a white ruff that neatly circles its neck. Also it has leather wings."

While he had no idea in the world what a Hortian hen looked like, he admitted there would be no difficulty in recognizing a bird with leather wings.

"Got it," he smiled, then lightly kissed her lips and patted the full roundness of her ass which was hidden by her baggy trousers. "Now to get it."

With that he proceeded toward the spot where he had left his weapons during the night. Elf called after him, "Hurry, Chad. I'll have everything ready for our morning feast when you return."

Waving back to her, he entered the forest and quickly located his sword, axe and laser. Slipping them into their respective scabbards and holster, he proceeded in the direction of the persistent screech of the now-stalked ottuff-jay.