[Divine Blood] You whip out your Cock

You stand upright. Talk has made you hard, but the buttons on your pants resist you for now. You groan and grasp. Your cock is tangled in your underwear. It finally springs free after some finagling.

She, noticing, gasps and shies away. ”That’s not... Wow...” But her eyes are trained on your naked erection. ”I should scream.” And her tongue is in the corner of her mouth.

You offer a smirk, an excuse, and your willingness to put it away.

”No! I don’t mind, I mean. It might be – instructive...” She licks her lips. ”There is a box. I have it here.” A hardwood case of fine make, she pulls it from its hiding spot at the base of a shelf; she is well prepared. ”I have a bowl. Here,” she says. ”Feysilver. And some – some reading material.” She swallows and undoes the latches on her dress. ”You won’t need it.” Her breasts spring free.

”I asked a fellow student,” she explains, her eyes rested on your hard member. ”He said yes, but chickened out. I had everything prepared and...”

You, eyeing her bust and stroking your cock, tell her that you understand.

”Great. Excellent. Please fill this cup – if you’d be so kind.” She crawls over to you and holds up the bowl. Her eyes follow each movement of your hands, and she is close enough to you that you can feel her hot breath.

Your rock-hard cock bulges. You stroke yourself harder and faster, closer and closer to bursting completion.

”Give me your seed, ” she whispers. ”Jerk your sailor meat. Come for me, First Officer! Cum for me! Give me your sperm! Shoot your load! I wanna see you cum!” She is screaming now.

Tense heat bubbles upwards from your groin. She continues her teasing and your frenzied hands fly along the shaft. Faster and faster until the release. The first spurt misses the container and tinsels her auburn hair a yellowish white. She complains, but smirks, and you better your aim. You milk spurt after spurt into the shining container, until your cock aches and she marvels at your efforts.

”Look at me,” the Cerulean Maven says, after. ”I need a hot bath, and...” She trails off and stares into the distance. ”And some time alone...” Her face is flushed red, and she, again and again, touches her hand to the spot where your first load hit her. ”It is late. I do not want to appear rude, but... It is late.”

It is late. The hands on your timepiece show past midnight, and the other guests have likely long since left. And the library lacks a door; only the heavy shelves conceal your nakedness – and the marks you left in her hair. It is late.

”First Officer?” The Maven asks as you reach the threshold. ”Will I see you again?”