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graasvoel
Graasvoel’s brows rose as his heated red and yellow gaze followed her motions; movements that brought her closer to him. His ears, nested amongst the tangled mess of mane, swept forward to hear her apology.
“Do not apologize, skoenlapper,” his rough voice was quiet as she gently, chastely, held the thick swell of his crest in her delicate embrace. His eyes closed for a brief moment, as he leaned into the softness of her muzzle—for a moment enjoying the pureness of their simple touch.
But, he was stallion. A stallion with urges; and the vulture had spent a lifetime giving into and following those urges. So, a heated stirring and twitching of his long muscle beneath his barrel brought his attention to Myrrine’s womanly scent, and her hot, silken, spotted skin that was so close to his own swarthy hide.
Normally, the vulture would have pounced on such an opportunity to sleep with so gentle, honest, and beautiful woman. He would have started with light touches, gentle and teasing, until he discovered just how far from innocence they could roam together.
However, her words ("I am not a woman who can do things with no strings attached”) and broken, downcast demeanor made him halt. Instead of following the heated path his groin urged him down, his neck arched to the side and thick muzzle gently slid beneath Myrrine’s.
Slowly, he pressed his soft muzzle against the velveteen plush of her own, before kindly removing her head from his embrace of his neck. “Then I am not the man to spend the night with you,” his gruff voice was quiet and gentle. “Thank you,” were his final words before he dipped his heavy skull in a silent good-bye; great wings spreading to take his massive body back to the skies.
“Do not apologize, skoenlapper,” his rough voice was quiet as she gently, chastely, held the thick swell of his crest in her delicate embrace. His eyes closed for a brief moment, as he leaned into the softness of her muzzle—for a moment enjoying the pureness of their simple touch.
But, he was stallion. A stallion with urges; and the vulture had spent a lifetime giving into and following those urges. So, a heated stirring and twitching of his long muscle beneath his barrel brought his attention to Myrrine’s womanly scent, and her hot, silken, spotted skin that was so close to his own swarthy hide.
Normally, the vulture would have pounced on such an opportunity to sleep with so gentle, honest, and beautiful woman. He would have started with light touches, gentle and teasing, until he discovered just how far from innocence they could roam together.
However, her words ("I am not a woman who can do things with no strings attached”) and broken, downcast demeanor made him halt. Instead of following the heated path his groin urged him down, his neck arched to the side and thick muzzle gently slid beneath Myrrine’s.
Slowly, he pressed his soft muzzle against the velveteen plush of her own, before kindly removing her head from his embrace of his neck. “Then I am not the man to spend the night with you,” his gruff voice was quiet and gentle. “Thank you,” were his final words before he dipped his heavy skull in a silent good-bye; great wings spreading to take his massive body back to the skies.
the vulture feeds while it can
until there's no trace left of man
until there's no trace left of man
@Myrrine <3
Please tag Graasvoel in all posts.
