She'd Be Delighted [M/F, Seduction (Roleplay)]

It doesn’t take her long to catch on to what you mean. “Oh, so it’s that kind of celebration, is it?”

You laugh. “Well, it’s not like I can hold a feast. But then again,” you add, brazenly eyeing her naked body, “I think I might be looking at something delicious.”

She covers her chest, still smiling, and raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re trying to seduce me.” It wasn’t a question, and you laugh. You aren’t sure if such little work could count as seduction for anyone who isn’t a nymph, but that’s what she is.

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I’m riding high right now, and I’ve got a lovely girl like you right in front of me.” Its final tie undone, your gambeson finds its way to the ground.

“Well, maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.” From the way she’s looking at you, you doubt that. “Maybe I’ve seen the light.”

So, that’s the game she wants to play, is it? “You might want to be careful, then.” Your fingers dance around them hem of your shirt. “Some things in the forest can be tricky to deal with.”

“Can they? Gosh, I don’t leave my little stream very often, so I don’t think I’d know anything about that.” You aren’t sure if she’s eyeing the growing bulge in your pants, or the flashes of skin your giving her from under your shirt. Possibly both.

“Oh, yes.” Ever so slowly, you lift your shirt, and let her see what’s underneath. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll find yourself trapped and beguiled.” You are not, strictly speaking, physically powerful. You are a creature of grace, agility, and technique. But even in these things, swordsmanship required a certain amount of raw power. All this to say, you had lean, wiry muscles. She can see them on your arms, and, inch by inch, she can see them on your stomach.

You don’t have much experience putting on shows like this—even one so simple—but she can’t look away, By the time you throw your shirt to the ground, you can tell she’s breathing more heavily. You’d like to think the wetness on her legs is a result of your handiwork, but she was in a stream until a couple minutes ago. As both Naiad and nymph, she’s normally very wet.

“You’re one of the tricky ones, aren’t you?” She’s still playing the game, then. Very well.

With a smile, and a smoldering gaze to match hers, you saunter over to her. “Of course. That’s how I know the danger so well. And I’ll tell you a secret.” Reaching her, you whisper in her ear. “I know I’ll have you, because I know it’s what you want.”

Suddenly, she turns around, but you have your arms around her in an instant, and you hold pull her body against you.

She squeals in obvious delight. “No, I, uh, I’m a good girl now!”

You whisper in her ear. “Really? That sure didn’t sound like a noise a good girl would make.” One of your hands slides down between her legs. “And I bet neither will this.”

Sure enough, once your hand finds its mark, she groans from the contact. “I, no, that’s not…”

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, and soon you have a finger trailing lazy circles around a nipple. Her protests never come together into a full sentence, and soon devolve into groans and gasps. With one had stroking slowly across her lower lips, you can tells she’s not just wet from the river—she’s already practically overflowing. You pull her earlobe into your mouth, and bite down on it gently, pulling a whine out from the nymph.

After a little while of that, you decide to take it a step further. You slide a finger inside her, and while a she was wet on the outside, it didn’t compare to this. Your finger is almost swimming in her juices. Her body is ready for you, and probably has been for a long time. It only depends on how long she wanted to go on with this little game of hers. Once you slide your finger all the way in, you pull her hips back against you, grinding her against your crotch, against your cock. She gasps. Ever so slowly, you pull your finger out, and slide it back in. You wriggle and writhe and rub it inside of her. And again. And again.

She’s moaning now, leaning her head back against your shoulder. You pull your finger out of her entirely, and she whines for the emptiness. But when you bring your finger up to her mouth, she sucks her juices off it gladly. All the while, she’s grinding back against you, of her own volition, now.

Once you’re finger is as clean as it’s going to get, you pull back, away from her. It takes her a second to recover, and when she turns around your belt and pants are already hitting the floor. She drinks in the sight of you.

You take a seat on your gambeson, its many layers of fabric being easily the softest thing in the room. You lean back, propping yourself up on one arm, with your legs apart, and your cock hard and high. It’s your parting shot in her little game: if she wants you, she’ll have to do it herself.

She’s on you in an instant, straddling you on her knees, with her hands on your shoulders. It only takes a moment longer for her to maneuver your cock inside of her. “Oh, yes.” Well-lubricated as she is, she slides all the way down to your hilt in a single motion. You can hear her wetness as she falls on you. She purrs. "Oh, yes."

You wrap your arms around her again, this time placing one hand on the back of her head, and the other on her hip. You grind her against you, and when you pull her into a kiss, she’s moaning into your mouth. After a few moments, her hips push against your hand, and you pull your hand away to let her rise. She falls back onto you, and you thrust your hips to meet her. You bring your hand back down against her ass with a hard smack. As she rides you, the sound of your bodies meeting, and the sound of her wetness echo through the barrow.

She breaks your kiss. “I’m going to cum,” she says, “I’m going to cum on your cock.”

“Say my name,” you tell her, “let the whole world know who’s making you cum.”

And she does. Her voice echoes through the empty barrow, saying your name, as she trembles on top of you, climaxes around you. By the time she’s beginning to recover, she’s noticed something.

“You haven’t cum,” she says, almost a question.

You grin impishly at her. “I’ve already had one slutty nymph today,” you say, “so I’m afraid I’ll be taking a bit longer with you.” You wrap your arms around her waist, and with your cock still inside her, you lift her into the air. She squeals in pleasure and delight, as you swing her around, and lay her down on your gambeson, with you still on top of her.

You’re panting from the exertion, but you aren’t done yet.

You pull almost all the way out of her, leaving just the tip inside, before crashing back inside. She moans out your name again. You settle into a rhythm, and the barrow fills with a chorus—a wet pussy, slapping thighs, and a name.

You draw it out as long as you can, but all things must end. When you can’t hold it back anymore, you press yourself into her as deeply as you can, and let go. You feel her tighten around you, writhe beneath you, as she comes again, right at the end. She milks your cock for every last drop, and you give it to her.

The two of you lay there for a while, basking in the glow. Your gambeson is not especially large, and can only do so much to soften the hard stone beneath it, but the pretty nymph in your arms makes it more than bearable.

“I really needed that,” she says.

“Just as well, then. I couldn’t celebrate on my own.”

She laughs. “And thank you. For indulging me, I mean.”

That little game of hers? “I always enjoy corrupting the innocent. I’ll admit I didn’t see it coming from you, though.”

“It was nice, for a change,” she says, “I like being an easy lay, but it’s nice to have somebody else be the on putting effort into it. Someone else doing the chase, you know?”

“Well, I can’t promise I’ll always be available,” you say, “but I very much enjoyed putting the effort into you. Next time, I may even have a proper bed.”

That pulls another laugh out of her. For a little while longer, you lay together like that. But all things must end. You both get up, and you begin to dress yourself. You find, however, that your gambeson has acquired a few new spots.

Deciding not to give them any more time to set in, you follow her outside, gambeson in-hand. There are more sophisticated methods for fighting stains, but they required more elaborate methods. Water and friction, before the stain truly sets in, is simpler, especially with running water so close at hand.

Your neighbor is already back into the water of her stream. She’s staring at you.

“It’s kind of weird,” she says.

You don’t look up from your work. “What is?”

“You have a name, now. It’s going to take some time to get used to that. And there's the new subtype.”

…Subtype?