Jacqueline Summers

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 threesome 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. As I pondered these thoughts, however, I questioned my notion of ‘love’ in its primal sense. I had not heretofore experienced it – at least the love that all the bards sing of – and thus, what could I know of it? That is, what do I feel for Aela; is it love, or merely lust? What of Vilja? I am deeply attracted to the blonde Nord, but is it only a physical longing for something that is, for the nonce, beyond my grasp? Did I love her as I did Aela, or was it something different? How could I even know, as a beast? Once more, I cast my mind back a few nights. “Aela.” We lay beside one another in the tent, no longer touching, on our fur sleeping pallets. The Skyrim wind whipped the omnipresent snow about our tent in the darkness; the chilly draughts soon cooled our ardour. I had regained most of my breath from the latest of my climaxes. “What… do Hardcore you know of love?” She emitted that snort-laugh of hers, pulled on her bottled of Colovian, as did I on mine. “Overrated.” “But, have you ever loved anyone?” “Are you asking me if I’m in love with you?” “No.” I downed another gulp or two. For some reason I did not want to know her answer. “I just… I only want to know if I – if we, as beasts, I mean – can know love.” A moment ere she responded, “I’m not the one to ask.” She finished her brandy, tossed the empty aside. “Why—I mean, who should I ask, then?” “Not me.” The Huntress turned away, faced the rippling tent wall. I studied her nude form in the brazier light: muscled back and shoulders; slim waist; strong, round buttocks; firm thighs and calves; goose bumps beginning to rise in the chill. I tried to ignore my rekindling desire. Clearly, she would not discuss the subject. I could blowjob thus only speculate that perhaps something in her past had soured her on ‘love’; perchance, this was the reason she would be content as a werewolf. On the other hand, mayhap the rumour that she and Skjor had been more than friends was accurate, and the Huntress was not – would never be – over him. Whatever the case, she certainly seemed sincere in her veneration of Hircine, as I knew I could never be; as I have mentioned, I have no use for deities and their manipulations of us ‘mortals’. Which was another reason for my ambivalence; I had been brooding on the rest of the Circle’s decision to remove the ‘taint’ of lycanthropy so they could anticipate their vision of the afterlife. To what could I look forward? As a Redguard, though orphaned young and raised in a tavern, I knew that Tu’whacca Yokudan, god of souls, would guide me as the other gods set a series of trials teen before me on the way to the Far Shores. If I failed, I would find myself banished to the Dreamsleeve, whence I could either languish for an eternity or, perhaps, be reborn for another opportunity at life, as some races believed (Imperials, for one). Yet, did I wish to sit at the knee of some daedric prince, or take my chances with trials and perhaps move on to a new life? After all, I have proven myself reasonably competent in this short existence thus far. As I revealed, I never knew my blonde parents, and I spent my childhood in a tavern. As if they heard us, the clerk tells us our orders are teen ready. Arthur let the semen stay on his tongue for several seconds, however. The tumbler had Hardcore sucked his finger in front of an unaware Deana, and it aroused him a threesome wicked way. Clint stared at his bride blonde like any groom. As I entered the office area, Mr. Franklin pointed over to Jake’s office. "With all the rumors, not many believed that it was true. She closes her eyes, parts her lips, and accepts his kiss. He thought to Drivas and Thellus. Carson strutted until all three of us blowjob were in front of the front steps, and whirled around. I took my phone from the side and quietly took several photo’s. When she opened her eyes I was standing back from her with my arms crossed.