FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Letter Written to Eshere in Regards to the Nocturnal Troubles Experienced by Tik Tik in Recent Evenings—

To My Sexy Slimy Scribe Eshere,

I hope this letter finds your university classes going well. You no doubt have been wondering about my recent anxieties and lack of coordination in our recent encounters. It is time for me to come clean about a recent concern of mine finally. I do not wish to tear you from your studies, but this has become bothersome enough that your aid is required to divine the situation's truth.

I should begin this with a story to help me organize my thoughts more effectively. Though I have doubts, writing down details may also help me find a solution to this mystery without requiring further assistance from you or others.

I first noticed that something was wrong last week. It was after I had read a thrilling and arousing tale from a publication of erotic persuasion that I decided that leaving my bed would be a waste of time. So, with the thoughts of the story ringing through my mind, I decided to take care of myself then and there.

Of course, the following detail is vital, my beloved scribe. It's simply worth the ink to leave you blushing metaphorically. The cost I pay in ink and timeliness is worth it, knowing you will be inflamed with desire.

That evening, I lay upon the soft cushion of my divan, comfortably on my side, with one arm up along the length of the mattress. The other held the book aloft, dangling the tantalizing pages before me. Despite my best efforts to keep myself from focusing on the task, my knees rubbed together as the author described the passion that burned within her.

I rolled onto my back posthaste, clinging the book to my chest and sighing, closing my eyes, and shuddering as I longed for the touch of a lover to be with me. Indeed, I could have called forth one of my apprentices to do the task. However, that evening, I craved something of a practiced and dominant hand, so only my ministrations would do.

Conjuring up my magical reserves, I summoned my go-to favorite spell, making the ghostly hands appear before me and lift the book over my head. My hands were idle in this exchange, only making the somatic expressions necessary to focus the spellwork. What good is mastering the arcane if one can't use it to entice oneself in many delightful ways?

With both arms high above me, I spread my legs ever-so-lightly. Ghostly hands flick the page to get me to the following exciting passage. More of my conjured servants appeared, the palms large enough to clap over my mouth if desired, but I wished to hear myself squeal, my scribe! So, they slipped down, gripping me by the side, squeezing my delicate form, pinning me down by the hips and by the shoulders.

I afforded my tail some freedom, flicking it between my legs and up toward my wanting sex. Another side of me denied myself, an apparition gripping my appendage tightly and pinning it down over my divan.

Another gruff grabber clamped around both wrists, keeping me pinned down to my own devices. Mirroring the rough ministrations of the narrator's lover. I fought against my spellwork, squirming and squealing. Yes, indeed! My spell work was so compelling that I overcame my frustration! Denial caused by one's on hand—how remarkable that is, Eshere. You must try it once you master your mage and scholar skills!

The fingers turned to the next page, where the lover had decided to push things further. He had exerted his control but took what he desired, so another ghostly hand manifested. This time, it was between my legs, and two thick fingers pushed up inside me, splitting me apart, squishing through the slickened wetness that was my desire.

Oh, how disastrous it is to be so distracted that one cannot work without getting off. It is a curse for all those who enjoy their work far too much, and I am most definitely within that range.

How do I like a lover to pleasure me down there? Oh, it depends. And that reflected that day. The fingers slowly pushed inside, flicking back and forth, kicking like a swimmer desperate to remain afloat. Then, they curl the wrist, bending, digits rocking, anchoring index and pinky pressing against my scaled flesh. The slicking and squishing filled my hearing as they flicked in me. I lifted my hips, feeling the need to move, but they would not let me.

A palm firmly clapped against my womb, pushing me down and keeping me stuck straight to the divan.

Oh, if only you were here to record it, Eshere! You would have given immorality to the pleas that I asked of myself. The panting gasps that got higher and hired filled my perception. The fingers blasting inside me, shoving and wriggling and dominating, sending shivers of delight! It was too much, I say. Oh, too much for one kobold to handle on her own!

And I caused myself to climax so messily upon the divan, Eshere! Spurts of delight passed through the ethereal fingers, spilling and staining the cushions. At my body's release, I removed the spectral hands from me.

The book crashed down upon my face! Such an embarrassment it was, but only for a moment. So addled was I and so desirous of more delights that I ripped the tome from me and sent it scattered to the floor! For this reason, I haven't told you the book's name. How scandalous if the author should find out how I treat their work!

After that sacrilegious effect, I rolled to my stomach. My hands shot down between my legs, letting my fingers reach into my depths as best as they could.