Indulge in Debauched Delights

”I’ve missed you,” says the Feyborn Whore. Seasons and hard living have not marred her youthful face and lithe body. She has inherited her nameless father’s silver hair, and she has inherited the inclination towards bottomless depravity of his kind. ”I’ve missed your cock.”

She takes it dry up the ass, and she screams out your name whenever you enter her sopping cunt. She gags when you fuck her throat, but she will never complain. When tears, spit, and precum mix on her face, she will beg for more. And you never even tested her limits, asked for the things she would do in the crew’s hushed whispers.

You snort Powdered Spring from her breasts, and she licks the oily dust from the tip of your cock. The **** conjures Afterbirth flowers from the dead streets. You carry her to the windowsill and fuck her there. Naked beauties frolic in the verdant meadows below, and her hands, intertwined with yours, touch the cold glass. The heat of your bodies, your steamy embrace, turns the window into a canvas for the frenzied art of your coupling. You draw strange symbols with your fingers, representations of her moans, and of the pornographic prophecies pouring from her pussy.

"I've missed us." She turns around and smiles at you. You take her standing, her face flat against the glass. You feel the firmness of her ass, and her hungry hole sucks you in and spits you out. The ropes of cum that hit her back spell out the name of a former lover.

"I've missed this." The both of you strengthen yourselves on Workermash Rum until black veins **** your cock back to painful hardness, and until her tar-dark lips taste like molasses. She moans muffled moans as you fuck her from behind, her head pressed down to the filthy mattress of your bed.

"I've missed the taste." You have taken what you could from her backdoor, and now order her on her knees. She takes your cock into her mouth. You grab her hair and then gag her throat as you fuck her skull. She swallows all and licks you clean after.