Chapter 2
by otx
Where do we join the game?
At the beginning
Chrusodae looked up from the gold wire she was drawing when her workroom door opened. The smell hit her first and she frowned.
"Probataphilos! What are you doing here? You are unkempt and unwashed, and you stink of sheep."
"Chrusodae, dear woman, I thought of you and the thought vexed me; I had to come down to the village to sample your craft."
"You have no money to buy jewels, and no woman to buy them for. Leave my shop, mendicant."
"I cannot." As he approached she noticed the telltale bulge beneath his tunic. "Not until I am fully satisfied."
"You would not; I shall cry ****!"
"No, you shall not. I do not understand why, but I know this in my bowels."
Chrosodae stood and backed away. She considered screaming, but knew it would do nothing. She had done work for the priests before, and could somehow feel the will of the gods in this. She did not want it, but knew she couldn't resist. Her back touched the wall of her workshop.
Probatophilos's hands lifted her tunic and tugged her breechcloth until if fell away.
"Lift my tunic, woman."
She recoiled at the idea, but lifted anyway. His erect orchid faced her, throbbing and ready.
Without foreplay he pressed against her and into her. The sensation was painful until her body produced the wetness needed to make it otherwise. Her behind slapped lightly against the wall from the **** of his thrusts as he pushed in and out of her. Far too soon she felt him release the waters of his seed into her. At the least now he would stop and she would at least be rid of him, though unsatisfied.
He didn't stop.
"What are you doing, lance of annoyance?"
"I do know not; my body refuses to rest."
In and out he thrust as her sense of passion built. When she reached her apex she knew the gods must have been involved; no man had ever before reached that climax within her.
"My thanks, Chrosodae; I must now hurry back to the fields."
Chrosodae picked up her breechcloth and tried to forget the smell. Despite that, her loins tingled in a way that distracted her immensely.
What's next?
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Hot Potato
Pass it on
There is a game played by children called "hot potato" where an object (sometimes a potato) is passed from person to person; when it is given to a particular person, their only objective is to give it to someone else. What possible origin could this strange game have, and how long could a game really be kept going?
Updated on Nov 28, 2016
by otx
Created on Nov 3, 2016
by otx
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