I whined, tried to keep still; espied Serana, still watching, except that her lusty smile was wider, fangs protruding menacingly. My body started at the sight; both frightening and, oh, so enticing!
“Then we come to this,” Aela went on, nuzzling around my slippery sheath. “Barely any fur covering, the same colour as her head. But look here” –she spread my lips– “at these folds, red like her nipples” –she licked– “yet so pink deep inside. This big button, wanting of attention… her Sword of Dibella… longer than a third nipple, yet pink as well.” A few sucks and licks, then a middle finger, and a second, thrusting in and out, pushed me over the precipice once more.
I shoved the redhead away, demanded wine. The room was hot, redolent with brazier smoke, sex, sweat. I guzzled the fiery alcohol that did nothing to cool my insides.
Serana sat very close on the mats, feral grin and clothing yet in place. I put the bottle aside, shakily rose to my knees, began to stroke her hair, neck, shoulders. Aela, joining me, nibbled ears, the nape of her neck as I lifted the dark tresses. Slowly we undressed her, fiddling with the buckles and straps of her unfamiliar leathers; but she made no move, neither to aid nor inhibit. When at last we had her naked, I noticed the scent of lotus just slightly overpowering that of a crypt (but then, what had I expected?). Her breasts, larger than mine or Aela’s, hung nicely on her slim frame; nipples red and already stiff.
Laying the vampiress on her back, we massaged, stroked, pinched, infused warmth into her extremities. I found the bottle I had procured from The Hag’s Cure in Markarth. (I thought, if Bothela could create a ‘Stallion’s Potion’ for men, then why not a stimulating lubricant for women?) As I poured the brandy-coloured liquid on the vampiress’ deathly pale skin, she finally moved; her whole body started, quivered everywhere the liquid made contact. I poured some across Aela’s breasts, then my own; we both jumped, yelped; it was almost hot. We massaged it into one another’s skin, then lay against Serana, one on either side, bodies chafing, nipples carving grooves in the vampiress, secretions adding to the slickness. The heat built; my body felt on fire. Urgently, I rubbed my cunt against Serana’s leg. The undead woman finally emitted her first sound, a drawn-out rumble as she clutched fiercely at us both. I am not sure if she actually climaxed then, but we were not done, regardless.
I concluded that sex with a vampiress was far from unpleasant, especially once certain participants had been ‘warmed up’, as it were. Serana remained passive throughout the night, but readily acceded to our instructions, mostly non-verbal. We discovered that, although the lips on her face were blood red, as were her nipples – and she needed no cosmetic to achieve the allure – her female parts reminded me of a bleeding crown mushroom: outer lips pale, inner (top) red, depths (underside) pink; and the scent was normal. Yet, she had no body hair, apart from that on her head; even her armpits were clean-shaven. I had heard that some women, especially ‘snotty Breton girls’, as Vilja termed them, shaved everything, especially pits and sometimes even their furry mounds, and I was now intrigued enow to perhaps try it myself.
In any event, my curiosity satisfied – and having gotten away unbitten – I needs must admit that I was not enraptured with vampires in general, although I would not turn down another opportunity. Even though I had little desire to try a male, Serana assured us that only a vampire lord could ‘turn’ us from werewolves into the undead. What convinced me, however, to have nothing to do with them – except to kill them – was what I witnessed when we finally delivered Serana to her family. Yet, that is another story, and I must return to this one anon.
XIV Crossroads
Some days later, Aela, Vilja, and I found ourselves at the crossroads south of Whistling Mine in Winterhold, making our way west toward Mount Anthor. We had another dragon to take care of, this time for the Jarl of Winterhold. Another Stormcloak-Imperial battle had recently ended here, and I found the futility of the conflict, as well as other thoughts, wrestling with my consciousness as I surveyed the grim scene.
I wearied of snide remarks from guards and townspeople about finding my ‘wolfish grin unsettling’, or smelling like a wet dog, or questioning if I had fur growing out of my ears. Furthermore, despite Vilja’s assertion that she was not afraid of me – both Aela and I had a tendency to involuntarily take on beast form when under stress – or her avowal that she thought I was ‘kind of cute’ when I was a werewolf, and how she has ‘always loved dogs’ – I was dissatisfied. Nevertheless, none of this yet decided me; nor even when Vilkas and then Farkas came to me and asked for their cure, and I made but a half-hearted attempt to dissuade them.
“I will never forget hunting with you, sister,” Vilkas told me. “And I know the nights will never be again. But, like Kodlak, I am a Nord, and I fear for my soul. I wish to know glory in the afterlife.
“Perhaps you will join me, sister? Then we can still be… together?”
“I… will miss you too, brother, but I cannot.”
“As you wish. But it would be my honour if you would accompany me, Harbinger.”
I did so, and although I was sore temped again, especially after the twins’ comments following – likening it to the effect of ‘a warm mug of spiced mead’ or how their minds were no longer ‘clouded with thoughts of the hunt’ – I did not partake. Vilkas, oddly, even said something about no longer being able to ‘smell my heart beating’, and although I had not thought of it like that, I know what he meant.
Nonetheless, I had yet to collect all of the Totems of Hircine with Aela, and I would know the benefits of having them all. Each on its own bestowed a blessing of sorts when in beast form, similar to various benedictions one received at any shrine in Skyrim. I needs must admit, as well, that I did not want to lose Aela, for I was certain that she would not accept the cure, and I knew this would force me to choose between her and Vilja; but I did not want to renounce any of it.
I found it all quite vexing, not to mention inflaming, especially so when, every chance she had, Vilja stripped naked to swim (despite her complaints that the water in Skyrim is too cold). Her tiny frame, pale skin, wisp of blonde hair not nearly covering her perpetually distended nether lips – it was too much. I knew she was not deliberately teasing me, but I do not believe she is utterly innocent of the effect she has on me, either. Thus, the circumstances that found all three of us – Aela, Vilja, and I – together nude with several other swimmers at the hot pools near Eldergleam Sanctuary a while back, were incredibly frustrating for many reasons, not least of which is that, by all the gods, a dragon attacked us.
There we were, Vilja, Aela, and I, bare as newborns but for a bit of jewellery, along with two other naked women and a man, with aught but weapons – and some magic – to fight a dragon; it must have been a remarkable sight. Withal, if it were not for my Shouts and Vilja’s magic, plus whatever the others were able to do – I was too busy to notice – it may have ended badly for us all. Indeed, we were lucky that any of us were alive (and I am a little surprised that Aela and I did not take beast form under such duress). As it betided, the dragon grabbed the poor man in its jaws, shook him like a wolf with a skeever, and later we could not find much left of him to bury or burn.
That left five naked, wounded, stressed girls.
Have you ever noticed how many women’s nipples harden after exertion, even if it is not sexual? I have – as I noticed all of ours then. I, for one, was moist betwixt the legs, too. The strangers were so impressed with how I had absorbed the dragon’s soul – recognising me as Dragonborn – I am certain they would have been amenable to any advance I proffered. Thus, with all the luscious flesh on display prior and following that battle, Aela and I were all at once in sore need of sating our other lust. Moreover, I had to be hands-on in assisting Vilja to heal the others’ wounds, which of course only frustrated me more. Hence, with only one another to rely upon to relieve both hungers, Aela and I did so that night.
Following our hunt – which, as was now our custom, we restricted to game animals or ‘miscreants’ – I subsequently found myself pondering how finding time and place both for sex and the hunt had become ever more problematical.
I know it hurts Vilja when I have sex within her hearing, let alone sight, and so Aela and I needs must tryst a ways off to spare her. Not too difficult, given that we do not need to sleep in the same, or a nearby, tent, although we set one up anyway, to be out of the ofttimes harsh Skyrim elements. Even so, however much I disliked leaving Vilja alone on these occasions, this was not the greatest problem, either; it was becoming… trite. Although we could not wear one another out, I felt some staleness with Aela, and I sensed she felt it as well. By this time, of course, Vilkas and Farkas had been human again for quite some time, and therefore both of us were pining for male company. I admit that we even tried… enticing some of our male wild brethren whilst in beast form, but it did not work; we scared them, it seemed. Neither did we yearn to seek others of our own kind; the skinwalkers, for some reason, did not recognise us as kin, although they would not attack us, either.
Do not misunderstand me, however; speaking for myself as well as, I trow, for Aela, I did not value male and female sex partners in that one or the other was preferable. I prized both sexes equally for their differences, the same as I sought experience with different races. It is the variety I crave, to allay the hunger. Furthermore, I do not see one sex or the other as more or less ‘loveable’ than the other; I deem myself capable of loving either male or female equally – and perhaps even more than one at a time.
Leave a Reply