wo o w!

I willed the shapechange , and in heartbeats, I was a beast. The rest student I do not care to remember, other than it was still not enow; the bodies were cold, unfulfilling. Thus, I returned, my savagery unmitigated – perchance even worsened out of frustration –managing again (or so I thought) to remain undetected as I slid, shaking with cold threesome and fury, back inside my bedroll. “Where do you go at night?” Vilja asked me as she distributed bread, ale, and goat cheese later that morning. I sensed Lydia studying me surreptitiously as she ate; doubtless, she wanted to pose the same question but dared not, as I was her thane. “To the bushes.” It was partially true, to void the indigestible remains of my meals from either end. “For so many turns of the ’glass?” “Do you lie awake timing me with an hourglass?” I demanded, suddenly angry. “What do you care how long I spend behind the bushes?” I stood, hurling the remains of my unwanted breakfast – it turned my stomach anyway – into the campfire. “Strike the camp – we’re leaving now!” “I’m sorry I upset you – or questioned you,” Vilja apologised a little later as we rode up the Throat of the World to High Hrothgar. Fine snow swirled about us in a bitter wind, frosting her fur mantle, long eyelashes, and the blonde hair not quite tucked inside. Her beautiful Nordic features displayed anxiety. “It’s just that I worry about you. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.” I was unsure whether to be flattered or even angrier. “I’ll not speak of it any more, if you wish.” “I wish,” I snapped, heeling my mount away from her. That was the first time the thought of how she might taste – her heart, that is – prickled in my mind, which distressed me and caused me to express my anxiety for my travel mates as even more anger, contrarily directed towards the very objects of my concern. The purported 7,000 steps up the peak to the abode of the Greybeards was perhaps decidedly less on horseback – but, being no pilgrim, I had no compunction about ‘cheating’, as one or two of the locals around Ivarstead grumbled when they saw that we intended to ride up to investigate my summons for supposedly being ‘Dragonborn’. I did not yet know what that meant, beyond a few myths about supposedly being amateur of ‘dragon blood’ (surely not in a literal sense) and able to absorb dragon souls and to Shout, in their ancient language, using Words of Power. Certainly, I had already slain several dragons, and I had sensed something each time, as their skin and flesh melted away in a fiery tumult about me that left aught but a few scales, bones, and myself untouched. Untouched, that is, aside from the feeling of some kind of power and knowledge burgeoning inside me that I sensed had yet to be unlocked fully. Thus, this trek up the Throat of the World. I had already learned a few Words – one being Fus skinny , which staggered opponents – but, again, I knew that I had but scraped a patina of rust from the sword, as it were. I would learn more from the Greybeards, and they would set me on yet another series of quests – but I digress. V High and Low Places A few nights ago… I return to my tale, relating what betided over the next few nights of my hunger. Having ridden up the 7,000 steps in somewhat more than one turn of the ’glass, I spent two agonising nights with the Greybeards, learning what they were willing to teach me. Though the descent took a little less time than the climb, it was already well dark, and so we took separate rooms in Ivarstead at the Vilemyr Inn, myself in one, Vilja and Lydia in another. While Lydia is my housecarl – my being Thane of Whiterun – I had assigned her to watch over Vilja, to which she reluctantly agreed Hardcore some days ago. Thus, it was relatively easy for me to slip out into the night. I was so restless I felt ill; my head twice its size, so that it surely must burst my helmet – which made it doubly a relief when I was able to shed all my armour other gear and stash it some distance away, including my smallclothes, lest they be shredded upon my transformation anyway. I further suffered from starvation, as I could not eat real food, and I am certain that the Greybeards had known something was amiss, if not precisely what. Lydia and Vilja were doubtless aware of my… distress, so much so that they avoided me; we had spoken hardly a word on the way back down the mountain. I slid my cock gently into her oozing cunt, and reveled in the tightness of her virgin vagina. Then he said, “This is the Captain speaking. He was home for a weekend and when he got home on the Friday evening Lizzy was in the shower. And amateur stop when you feel student like you are hitting a wall. I will tell you if this man is who I think he is he has used me on three different occasions and I could not bring myself to report him to the police. I took my shower, went out before they return back at about 3 pm. Do you want more?” Lisa asked, clearly ignoring that it was a cry of discomfort and disbelief versus being horny. Care to join me?" "The bar's open all night, let's go." "Ohhhh..." He carried Brie into the living room, and then tossed her down on the couch. “I can't wait. He turned away, punching a nearby tree in anger. She shaved her legs and under her arms. In the huff and overcome skinny with awkwardness that fills my room. I motioned for the brunette to slide my briefs off revealing my semi-erect cock hanging out of my jock strap. He looked at Mr. Malone, who just shrugged and nodded at him. I positioned my cock and ran it through her wet lips a few times before sliding into her, slowly, Hardcore watching her reaction as I slowly filled her with the dick she was so threesome desperately craving. I slid my hands up her side and grabbed the bottom of the tank top she was wearing. I questioned him about his wife and he said what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. My futa-cock swelled hard. I want you to turn her."