Oh Calgary - 02 Lor
Oh Calgary - 02 Lor
Time for round two. I admit it's a bit long. As I didn't intend to make this into an actual series, please forgive the excessive exposition, but I promise the sex is worth wading through it. As before, I'll start with a quick description and a definition:
Alu - A type of relatively minor demon taking the form of 3.6 meter humanoid canines bearing a distinctly feral wolf-like appearance.
Cheechako - A Chinook word denoting a new-comer to Alaska or the North-West Territories of Canada, ignorant of the terrain, the weather, the animals, the culture, etc.
"Shit," Lorian Dukus stewed while slogging through the thick brush as quickly as discretion would allow. He hadn't slept in two days, and he stunk. Hardly the typical Line Walker, Lor discarded the trappings that other mages wore with pride. Gone were the strips of linen inscribed with mystic runes, gaudy bangles, amulets, and useless bracers. He'd discarded his light armor and filter mask days ago. All that remained were his laced black leather pants and dark jerkin, both stiff and stained with sweat, a hooded cloak held tight to ward off the morning chill, and once polished tall traveling boots now flecked with mud dully crunching through the damp forest litter. Speed and silence were of the essence now and appearances could wait. The term 'disaster' summed the whole thing up. Sure, other words described the situation: 'fiasco' was good, and 'debacle' worked too. Regardless, it had all gone wrong. He and Jonathan were on the run, Tashania captured by demons, and he had no idea what happened to Grimaldo or Clive. Of course, they shouldn't have taken this job in the first place.
Ari Nasi - the name haunted Lor's mind. The man swore up and down he was close to discovering a method to seal the great permanent rifts, such as Calgary, but needed access to one to complete his research. Personal interest piqued, Lor reviewed the Shifter's notes and agreed his fellow mage was on to something...or up to something. Nasi's insistence on the treacherous journey to the Calgary rift set off alarm bells. Few human eyes ever beheld the awesome spectacle of that rift's wicked brilliance or the demonic Hell on Earth that surrounded it. Lor was one, as was Jon, and Clive was close enough to human to count; what chance this Shifter would randomly approach one of the few groups with knowledge of a relatively safe ground route through Xiticix territory? Not likely. Someone was pulling this guy's strings, and the only way to find out who was to accept the job. Jonathan had counseled against it, saying there were better ways to gain the intel, but Lor agreed to escort the shifter anyway. Besides, the pay was good and upfront. He regretted that decision now.
The mission started well enough. The first few weeks on the trail flew by, and even after entering Xiticix territory things ran smoothly. Then Jon and Grimaldo had...damn, even he had a hard time accepting that mental image. Not that Lor held anything against the Cernun, no, that wasn't completely true, but being a D-Bee had nothing to do with that... Hell, he shared a bedroll with Tashania more than once, and she was a D-Bee...but she at least looked human. He caught himself and promptly crushed that thought. Lor was not a human-supremacist.
"Let the Coalition wallow in that pit," he thought grimly.
Not that he hadn't. In his younger days as a gang-banger running the hard streets of Ishpeming he harassed and beat more than a couple D-bees. That's the way things went on an Earth where Man was now a desperate minority. Eventually, they picked the wrong victim, and paid dearly. That incident changed Lor's life forever, leading him to the path of magic, and a wider world. Nevertheless, even after all these years, and his travels, he still wasn't exactly comfortable with the inhuman.
Anyway, the odd pairing altered the team's equilibrium. They started making mistakes. It was little things at first, then big things. Everything came to a head as they began their infiltration of the near demonic fortress that constituted the city's remains and surrounded the rift. Even now, the memory grated raw in his head.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Lor silently raised a hand, calling his companions to a halt. Someone was approaching. Covered in a distinctive pre-rifts universal camouflage pattern once popular in the American Empire, the form of Tashania's Terrain Hopper powered armor melted from the shadows between two shattered buildings. He marveled at how she moved with such silence and grace while enclosed in the confines of the bulky unit, flitting about like some delicate lethal sprite. Pulling off her helmet, she gestured him over and mouthed, "Gargoyles." She held up two fingers, and pointed high to the left, then three fingers and pointed right. Damn, when did they start watching this route? Regular patrols, defensive works, and now tactical overwatch of critical routes into the city...somebody was organizing the monsters here.
He looked back at his team. They had strung out in a loose column to mask their numbers with him in the lead, then Nasi, and Jonathan just behind. Lor didn't trust the Shifter one bit and asked Jon to keep a close eye since he knew the former Coalition soldier shared his reservations. Grimaldo followed and the dog boy, Clive, who typically rode point, brought up the rear. Concerned with being flanked, Lor knew the canine's exceptional abilities would ensure they weren't. Anyway, they'd traveled this route before and what lay ahead was a known quantity to everyone involved, excepting this stupid Shifter.
Turning back to Tashania, he asked in the barest whisper, "Have you scouted a bypass?" The former Splugorthian slaver nodded shortly and pointed with her chin before heading into a narrow alley off to their right. Watching the retreating sway of her armored hips, he sighed and waved everyone else forward. The alley deposited them at the edge of a broad avenue choked with the remains of toppled buildings. The rubble provided ample cover and they moved in stealthy pairs to cross the danger area. He and Tashania had made it to the far side and set up a covering position when it happened. Lor felt more than heard the incantation and watched in shock as Nasi began to gesture.
"No," he thought frantically, "the fool is going to kill us all!" There wasn't time for a counter-spell, only a shouted warning while he grabbed Tashania roughly, pulling her down as the rift exploded into being.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Now in the present, Lor mused how the fates laughed at his folly. Nasi betrayed them; he had opened a rift to allow the demons into their midst, but the idiot miscalculated. Anyone versed in magic knew better than to open a rift that close to a major uncontrolled nexus without the proper precautions. Maybe he thought he could really control it, but the rift the Shifter called to life was ten times the size needed, a byproduct of the massive latent psychic energy in the area. The backlash blasted the hapless mage into a red mist, dashing any hope Lor might have had to wring any information from him, not to mention his neck. Dozens of Gargoyles and Alu, marshaled by no less than a Balrog, poured from the crackling dimensional tear. Obviously, somebody wanted them very dead. Much of this he would only learn later, as, badly dazed from the sudden release of mystic energy, Lor could only catch bits of the action around him. Surely, the same occurred to Grimaldo, which if true, effectively sidelined the team's biggest guns. At some point Tashania dragged him to a concealed position and continued the fight. By the time he recovered, it was over and he was alone. Searching the area proved fruitless. Only a scattering of stinking demonic corpses and Tashania's empty S-70 plasma rifle indicating the struggle. How the beasts missed him he didn't know, but he had to move. They'd be back.
A sleepless night passed as he stole across the ruined city in a northern direction, often avoiding demonic patrols by only centimeters and pure luck. By morning, Lor found himself in a familiar place. He'd intended to come here, the rubble-strewn clearing where some five years before he'd encountered Jon, Clive, and the remains of their recon team under attack by their own. Lor couldn't believe at the time the Coalition would send an elite team of assassins to ambush their fellows while surrounded by all that was inhuman. It boggled his mind. Who were the real monsters? Lor held no love for the Coalition, but couldn't stand by and watch the slaughter, and so saved those who would become his fast friends.
Now he was back, to discover Jonathan hiding in the rubble nearby. At least someone followed the plan. They compared notes on the previous evening and things looked grim. The younger man had observed Tashania being overwhelmed and dragged into the rift, but was mysteriously rendered unconscious before he could assist her. Like Lor he'd come-to alone in a concealed position some distance from the action and immediately scouted the area. Apparently the two men missed each other by mere minutes.
Jon wanted to go back for the girls and Clive immediately, and Lor was inclined to agree. He knew what horrors lay in store for Tashania and possibly Grimaldo, but he also knew better. The two of them were impossibly outnumbered and outgunned, and without Clive's nose and psi-tracking abilities they wouldn't know even where to start looking. They needed to find him, if still alive, and seek help if they were to rescue the ones they loved. Locating the dog boy would be easier with additional guns at their back, so, traveling fast and light, they headed north. Lor had friends from his years of wandering among the Tundra Rangers and wild Psi-Stalker tribes that roamed the Canadian wastes. Honestly, he doubted finding any aid, and it was this thought that distracted him now. He barely noticed Jonathan's sudden halt.
The former intelligence officer possessed an uncanny knack for sensing danger, and Lor knew to trust him. He moved close and whispered, "What is it?"
"We're being watched. There's at least four. They have us surrounded."
"Damn...all right, I've got just the thing. Keep them busy for ten seconds and I'll get us clear."
Jon gave a slight nod and moved to un-sling his rifle when they struck. The ruse seemed to work as Jon drew his pistol instead and bulls-eyed the closest figure. One bolt wouldn't penetrate the man's armor, but it would put him on his ass and out of the fight for the moment. Lor would have preferred to do this the old-fashioned way, a chain in one hand, and a knife in the other, but he'd forsworn that part of his past. Magic was his only tool now and rushed the incantation, while Jon rapidly dropped another of their attackers, but wasn't quick enough as he felt a pistol press against his head and familiar voice whisper, "Halt caster, in the name of the Rangers." A glance at Jon showed him on the ground with two atop, and the men he'd put down climbing slowly to their feet. This was the second time in forty-eight hours Lor failed to get off a spell to save his friends, but this time he felt relief.
Hands up, he turned to face his captor and asked with a grimace, "So Mica, I guess I'm still not quick enough to make it in the Rangers, eh?"
Everyone called her 'Mica' since her given Inuit name sounded something like an asthmatic bear forcefully ejecting a lung, and practically no one could pronounce it. Clad in buckskins, a huge Bowie at her hip, the diminutive native woman cracked a smile. Her brown eyes dancing with mirth, few would have taken that grandmotherly face as belonging to a hard bitten Tundra Ranger scout. "You'll never be quick enough cheechako," she quipped.
"But his friend sure is!" One of the men Jon had shot doffed the helmet to his light armor and chuckled while jabbing a thumb toward Jonathan. "So Lorian, where'd you find this guy?"
Lor couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps the fates weren't against them after all, for the man before him was an old friend from his long ago gang days. "Jim? What the hell are you doing up here, and with this old bag to boot?"
"Watch it whitey," the little native retorted. "You're still my prisoner here."
"Are you going torture me for information?"
"Only in your dreams, pervert," she shot back. "Just answer the question."
"Well, I guess an introduction is in order. This is Jonathan Kalt, former Coalition Intel..." The weapons of the group snapped up to cover Jon and Lor rushed to wave them off. "I said former Coalition. Cut him some slack! The man's marked, and you know I'm no friend of the Coalition. I trust him."
"Okay," she shrugged, "It's just strange to see you with a partner, eh?" She paused as her team relaxed. "This is some bad country here. What brings you two this close to the big rift anyway? I thought you had a good thing going in your hometown."
Lor sighed and filled them in on the situation, while judiciously avoiding the exact purpose behind their excursion.
At last Mica nodded. "Got yourself a real pickle there Lor. You should have listened to your friend Jon there, yes? Unfortunately, I can't help you directly." She raised a hand when he started to object and continued. "We're on a recon mission here, cheechako. Command would never authorize a rescue mission into the city with out extensive backup, and we're the only Rangers for a hundred klicks."
Lor felt a sense of despair rise in his heart, and she must have noticed the look because she stretched to clap a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, I said I couldn't help you directly, but I think I know someone who will."
He brightened at her words, but the gleam in her eye gave him pause...
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Lor spent the next two days catching up with his Ranger friends while traveling through dense Canadian forest, bearing northeast. Reaching the banks of a small river, they turned due north, and followed the river into a low valley. Had not Mica been there as a guide Lor would've never guessed the place even existed, or the village secreted there. A palisade topped hill fort protected a large cluster of semi-permanent felt yurts, and Lor was impressed such a place could stand so close to Calgary. Even more impressive were the village's inhabitants: a tribe of centaurs.
Lor wasn't sure about this. Were these to be his allies, or was this just a stop? Centaurs were a touchy bunch, untrusting of humanoids in general, and any tribe that made their home this far south and close to the Calgary rift had to be positively insane. Still, their little ville seemed clean, secure, and prosperous... The only other question he had was how Mica managed to ingratiate herself with them.
Their group approached boldly, making their presence abundantly clear to the fort's sentinels and two of the creatures galloped out to meet them; greeting Mica and her Rangers heartily even while keeping a cautious eye on him and Jon. Under this escort, they entered the fort to be met by three other centaurs. The largest, who Lor took for the chief, stood in the center, flanked by another imposing male, and a much smaller chestnut bodied female. He wore a battered set of Coalition 'dead-boy' armor on his upper body, and his great black lower body clad in barding cobbled from the same. No helmet covered his strong broad features or long braided hair and beard. Shifting gracefully on his hooves, he welcomed Mica with unusual warmth in Fey, a language with which Lor had difficulty. Catching only every third or fourth word the Ranger and centaur talked quickly, with her gesturing towards them frequently. After a few minutes, the conversation broke up and the centaurs moved off while Mica turned to him.
"Well whitey, you're in luck, 'ol Ting'kang here is quite willing to assist you. The demons raided another settlement further west this tribe swore to protect. He's looking for blood to save face, but he'll only help a fellow tribesman."
"So, Jon and I have to become members of the tribe huh?"
She smiled up at him. "Yeah, but it's nothing too drastic. I'm a member after all. Tell you what cheechako, I got you two a tent. Make yourselves at home, and relax. The 'cents don't trust you yet, so there'll be a guard, but that's to be expected. Tonight we'll do the feast thing and Ting'kang will tell you what you gotta do."
Mica was a senior scout in the Rangers, if she said this would work, Lor had little reason not to trust her judgment, but he also knew her to be a bit of a trickster. Something about this didn't sit right, but he capitulated with a sigh. Tonight then...
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The evening came too quick. Lor found himself seated next to Jonathan around the central fire surrounded by two score centaurs and Mica's five Rangers, most of whom were already very drunk, singing bawdy songs in Fey, and being uncomfortably familiar with their hosts. Ranger high command would definitely not approve. The food proved exceptional, a mix of meat and grain dishes that seemed strange when one considered the equine aspect of centaurs in general. Lor began to wonder exactly how such a digestive system functioned when the chief called everyone's attention. Again speaking in Fey, he addressed the assembled group then Lor and Jon directly. Lor wished he understood the language better, but knowing Jon knew nothing of the language at all, he muddled along, translating the best he could until the chief uttered one word he understood all too well: risathra. A strange word that. No one knew its source, but at some point or another it appeared in the lexicon of every known language in the multi-verse, and held the same meaning in them all. Glancing sharply at Mica, he saw her smirk, and knew the fix was in. Risathra was ritualized sex, generally used to bond disparate groups of individuals together for some purpose or, sometimes, induct temporary members into a tribe. He should have figured Mica would pull something like this, knowing his discomfort with non-humans.
If he didn't need these creature's help he would have left at that moment, but Jon was a different animal. After all, the man had bedded Grimaldo, why wouldn't he do a centaur to save her. The question was doubly damning to Lor; why wouldn't he do this to save Tashania? In one part of his mind, these things were nothing but animals, monsters from the rifts, but he knew that to be the ghost of prejudices best forgotten. Appearances aside, these beings were far from beasts... The moment grew awkward as Lor took time for a bit of soul searching before, with a sigh, filling Jonathan in. The younger man offered a cautious acceptance of the situation, and Lor knew he'd been right about Jon's convictions. Grudgingly he agreed to the chief's proposal while secretly hoping this would be a male/female thing rather than the alternative...
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The feast continued only a couple hours more before the attendees started disappearing in ones and twos, sometimes threes. The moment of truth arrived as two centauress' casually approached he, Jon, and Mica.
As the centaurs drew close, Mica excused herself. "Looks like my cue whitey. Have fun."
Lor gave her a hard look and said, "You knew about this. Why the con?"
"Because I like messing with you Lorian," she called back at him as she walked away. "You take yourself way too seriously my boy. You're a big man, I'm sure you can handle her. Buck up, I had to get under Ting to get in."
"Who's the pervert now?" he asked her retreating form while the word 'bitch' rolled around his head.
While he'd traded barbs with Mica, Jon had already moved off with his partner, the two of them vanishing into a nearby tent.
"Must be nice," he thought while turning his attention to his own companion for the evening.
He recognized her immediately as the female at the gate, and only now noticed her resemblance to the chief. Was she his daughter? She beckoned him toward a tent set toward the back of the encampment and he followed the rolling sway of her wide horse rump.
The cool glow of cold-lights lit the structure's interior, why had he expected torches? He sighed, and consigned to his fate, took the time to look her over. She was a big girl. Perhaps fifteen hands at the withers, using 'horsy' parlance, with her humanoid upper body adding another 80 centimeters, so she was a bit more than 2.3 meters tall. He looked around the tent surreptitiously; he was going to need something to stand on. Earlier, he'd noted her chestnut hide, but saw now how it faded into black socks on her lower legs; a color matched in the long head hair that cascaded down her back and the equally long tail that sprouted from her ass. That brought him short; she had a tail...and hooves. Lor was having trouble with that.
"So what is your name?" he asked in his pidgin-Fey.
"Felasta," she replied, looking back at him with a coy smile that revealed broad square teeth. Her face was deep, with a strong protruding jaw, thick lips, broad nose, and wide spaced brown eyes. Lor wouldn't call her pretty, but she wasn't ugly either. Maybe 'homely' was the proper term. Got it, 'horse faced' he thought while giving himself an internal laugh at her expense. He hadn't noticed if Jonathan made out any better.
The centauress daintily swung herself to face him while shrugging off her loose tunic and tossing it aside. A light coat of very fine dark hair covered her entire upper body, with thick patches sprouting from her armpits, and his stomach lurched a little; he really didn't like hairy women. With a suggestive smile, she slowly unwound the wrappings about her chest that served as an ad hoc bra. In seconds, her ample breasts swung free and she squeezed them together with both hands, while saying something rude in Fey. He barely understood her words, but the intent was clear; somebody was impatient. Lor figured he might as well get this over with and approached the proffered mammaries. Felasta's scent washed over him, similar to that of a woman, but distinctly different, and stronger, with pungent animal overtones. Long dark brown nipples sprouted from huge equally dark aureoles that contrasted sharply with the creamy almond of her skin. Her height put them at eye level and he had to stretch a little to take one in to his mouth while replacing her hands with his. The downy softness beneath his touch surprised as he massaged her large orbs and began to rethink his opposition to body hair when he received another shock; Felasta was lactating. Thin warm fluid filled his mouth, not sweet, but with an odd watermelon-like flavor that left him wanting more. His inhibitions in rapid retreat, Lor suckled eagerly at the teat that fit his mouth so perfectly, and Felasta gave a funny neighing sigh while placing her hands on his shaven head in encouragement. He moved from breast to breast, and she seemed content let him drink his fill, but Lor knew she expected more and though loath to do so, pulled himself away after a time.
Sensing the moment, she turned sideways and looked at him expectantly. He marveled at how she could move her bulk with such grace, but he was at a loss at what she wanted. Though he'd spent years in the wilderness, Lor was a city boy and knew only a little about horses, and, of course, nothing about centaurs. Understanding his confusion, she said something in Fey. Lor wracked his brain for a translation...something like 'seek', or 'explore'... He suddenly understood; she wanted him to touch her equine body, 'explore' her. His earlier internal conflict flared once more, but he quickly put it away; he was well past the point of moralization.
Gingerly he placed a hand on her powerful withers, just behind where her divergent halves joined. The warm hide twitched at his touch. It felt very different from the flesh of her upper body, but the contrast fascinated, rather than repelled. Feeling bolder, he added his other hand and allowed them to wander across her broad back, deep barrel, and down between her forelegs, tracing the strong muscles beneath thin hide, and noting the differences in texture. Lor's face pressed against her side as he hugged his arms around her girth and her scent once again surrounded him, but different from before, more deep and musky. The strange sound of her double thudding hearts amazed him along with the echo of two sets of lungs. The scholar in him wondered how her odd biology worked. How much like a horse was she? With this thought in mind, he worked his way towards her hindquarters.
The fur of Felasta's belly was a bit longer than elsewhere, though sparse around the knot of her quite equine navel and he recalled noting the lack of one on her humanoid parts, curious. Between her hind legs, the fur gave way to near black silken smooth skin and two horse-like mammary glands, equally full as the ones on her chest. The strangest desire to taste these organs overcame him and he crawled beneath her to do so. Some part of his mind asked what purpose two sets of breasts served, but he ignored it, instead latching on to the nearest dark nipple, entranced by the utter intimacy of the act. Here her scent was even stronger, less woman, but equally female. She groaned from somewhere above him as he nursed with gusto.
Again, Lor sensed she was content to have him stay at her teats, perhaps for the rest of the night, but his curiosity was getting the best of him. Reluctantly, he climbed from beneath her and placed a hand on her firm rump. She craned around to watch him, the flexibility of her spine stunning him. After a moment he looked at the expanse of her rear end; he didn't know where the urge came from, so base and animalistic, it just appeared in him...he bit her ass, hard. The sound she gave was the strangest he'd ever heard. Not a wicker or whinny, nor a moan or groan, but some combination of them all, and it struck a cord deep in his soul. He bit her again, relishing the feel of her tough hide in his mouth, her fur on his tongue, and her cry in his ears. He bit further back, at the edge of her rump, and she flung her tail up to the left, exposing her self to him. He stopped to stare at her dusky black sex, so long, a fat teardrop shape at the bottom, and crowned at the top by the round protruding button of her asshole. This was no woman before him, but somehow it didn't matter now. Sundered was the wall within that held him back. Human, animal, D-bee...it just didn't matter anymore.
Lor used his thumbs to pull apart the velvety flesh, so much softer than that of any woman, and, setting aside those silly human mores, planted his face between her equine cheeks. He ran his tongue up her groove and savored the odd taste, tart, estrogen laced, and tinged with wood smoke. As Lor's tongue traced downward once more she 'winked,' pursing her strong inner muscles, and revealing her huge clitoris to him. Lor found himself lingering there, teasing her simple folds to bring forth that dark purplish knob repeatedly, and lavish attention on it. Felasta offered him deep grunting groans of encouragement and eagerly pushed her massive rump in his face. Soon his mouth and cheeks were soaked with the fragrant fluid that verily gushed from her body. He wallowed in her sopping minge, bumping his nose against her fuzzy anal button, his hands planted on her firm haunches, enjoying the debauchery. This was the most perversely erotic act Lor had ever imagined, and he reveled in it.
His fingers found their way into her crevice. Two, three, then four; eventually his entire hand disappeared within her opening. The heat within her body beckoned him deeper and he worked his hand into her. Finally, his fingers brushed the rubbery bud of her cervix, his arm nestled up to the elbow in her remarkably snug passage. Somehow, he'd expected more length to her tunnel, more space within her cavity. He flexed his fingers, stroking her back wall. She huffed sharply, and squat a little to allow him a slightly better angle while pushing back hard. He grinned and took her hint, withdrawing until just his fist remained, and then thrusting back in forcefully while applying a firm upward pressure. Felasta squat deeper while yelling something in Fey so crude the bluest sailor would have blushed. He kept it up, working up a good sweat ramming his arm into her as fast and hard as he could, relishing the squishy sounds that emanated from her hole. Certainly he was hitting the right spots, as she panted, grunted, and groaned, interspersing the sounds of her passion with a stream of pornographic cries in Fey while her cunt winked rapidly around his plunging arm.
The language was perfect for this Lor mused. A descendant of Dragonese and a predecessor of Elvish, those two languages were nearly identical. Fey, now that was completely different. It was beautiful to listen to, elegant and musical, but the Fey, the Sprites and Fairies, were a randy bunch. They had thirty distinct words for copulation, nineteen for oral sex, and near a dozen for anal. Felasta was working through all of those and more, repeatedly, and was starting to get inventive as he sensed her orgasm approach. His experience so far indicated centaurs did nothing small... She came with an explosively grunted sigh, her powerful inner muscles contracting hard, while a thick ring about fifteen centimeters within her cunt griped his arm so tightly it almost hurt. The sensation blew his mind, and he pondered what would that be like on his cock. That thought captured his imagination, and Lor intended to find out. Withdrawing his slime-covered arm as she floated down from her high, he tore off his clothes, revealing a body forged by years in the gym. Slabs of muscle covered his frame, and only a slight paunch revealed his growing age, something that satisfied Lor to no end, as did the erection that sprung like a flagpole from his loins; never had it seemed so hard. Lor was 'bigger' than most men were; only average in length, but quite thick, which matched perfectly the broadness of his body. It caused problems, as most women found it uncomfortable to be with him.
"That won't be the case tonight," he thought happily.
Still, he couldn't compare with a centaur, and Felasta had just had his arm inside her. He doubted she'd even feel his prick, yet he almost desperately cast about for some means to align his genitals with hers. Felasta provided the answer by suddenly laying down, not on her side per se, but in that semi-reclining position he'd seen horses take before.
She gave him what he could only take as a 'come hither' look and with a smile he knelt behind her. Placing the tip of his tool at her entrance, he rubbed it up and down the wet slit. Her cunt winked with each stroke and he took great pleasure teasing her so. Finally, she huffed at him with frustration, and he relented, timing his penetration with her next wink. He sunk into her easily, balls deep on the first push. The feeling was incredible; so like a woman, but so different. She felt inexplicably tight for such a big creature, and very warm, but in a cool way, wet and slick, but gripping with friction and Lor's mind floundered for more adjectives to describe the pocket that engulfed his member. With her winking around him, he slipped into a reverie, until she snapped him from it, pushing back at him impatiently, as much as her position would allow. She wanted him, now.
Throwing her tail over one shoulder, he gripped the broad haunches, fingers digging into flesh, and fed her need. He pounded into her, his hips slapping the firm cushion of her equine ass. As before, she voiced her approval with loud groans, whickering sighs, and a monolog of filthy Fey utterances; accompanied by the lewdly sloppy sounds of their lovemaking. It was glorious. There was so much of her. Panting, he lay across her rump, changing his angle, and slowing his pace, savoring the sight of her massive body beneath him. He moved atop her like this for a time, letting his sweat soak into her fur, then spread his legs wide and shafted her hard and fast. Soon it became too much, he felt his orgasm rising, even as she grunted toward her own. Using every trick he knew, Lor fought to bring her off first, and she rewarded him by bursting out with that grunting sigh of hers. Her walls gripped at him fiercely in her release, the muscular ring in Felasta's cunt constricting around the head of his cock to the point he feared it being cut off. He couldn't have ejaculated if he tried, and that seemed to be what the centauress had in mind, for she as she relaxed, she roughly scooted forward. Now disengaged from her, and blessed with the bluest balls, she smiled wickedly, and beckoned him to stand before her. In this position, her head was just below his, and she pulled him down into a brief warm kiss, before pushing him back and, bending forward on that oh so supple spine, took him in to her mouth. Lor hissed in pleasure as her lips closed around his shaft, one hand cradling his aching balls while the other caressed his ass. Her skill was undeniable, working him to the edge with ease, only to tortuously hold him there. He envied the stallions that she'd practiced upon to become so adept. Finally, he again felt the familiar tightness build at the base of his penis, and gripping her bobbing head with both hands, he began to thrust his hips counter to her rhythm. Relaxing into his grasp, she let him fuck her face, his strokes becoming long and hard, massaging the thrusting organ with her tongue, and gazing up at him with hungry eyes. In only a minute more he came with a final thrust and a fierce cry, launching his seed into her mouth with such force his knees nearly gave out. She swallowed his gift eagerly, both hands on his ass, holding him firmly against her face. The centauress nursed at his softening cock as he had her breasts earlier, sucking out every drop, before finally releasing him. Lor promptly fell back onto his ass and she laughed at his antics before patting the rug next to her.
He slowly crawled to her side, lying against her warm hide and she wrapped an arm around him while saying in Fey, "Thank you mage. You honor me with your essence, and your willingness to taste mine." Lor stared at her in shock; he'd understood that perfectly! His confusion evident, she continued with a mischievous smile.
"I must apologize. I too am a user of magic, my tribe's shaman, and versed in the Tantra. Our exchange of fluids allowed me to complete my spell. I'm surprised you didn't feel it, but you were distracted."
Several puzzle pieces clicked into place. So Tantric Mages truly existed. He'd heard rumors, but to actually meet one... The scholar in his head wondered who her Master was, was the spell she'd cast some variant of a 'comprehension' type, and was it permanent? Moreover, what about the risathra, was it integral to the Tantric method? If so, what about Jonathan? A thousand questions swirled about his head and she seemed to understand. She massaged his bare chest and whispered in his ear, "All your questions I will answer, but they can wait as my people are ones of...great appetites and your fires still burn." Lor felt her hand caress his stiffening manhood. When did that happen...?
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Lor awoke nestled against Felasta's warm body, surrounded by her earthy scent, and was for the first time in years, content. He stretched and she stirred. They had shared their passions throughout the night, but he found himself quite refreshed for so little sleep. Trading pleasantries in Fey, they groomed each other and dressed. Lor still found himself amazed by the Tantric magic she'd used. To master such power through sex fascinated him, and he found himself eager to learn her secrets, but a pang of guilt washed over him. How could he sit here enjoying the company of this creature while Tashania and Grimaldo suffered Gods knew what? No, whatever future he desired here, he had friends to save first.
As they made their way out into the camp, they found the war party already assembled. Mica sat astride Ting'kang's back, a gleeful smirk on her round face. "About time you two made it to the party," she cackled.
He gave her a nasty look and retorted, "Why do I get the feeling the risathra was completely unnecessary."
"Oh no, it was necessary. You had fun, didn't you? Maybe learned something new, eh?" She grinned maniacally. "He certainly did," she said while jabbing a thumb at Jonathan, "but I'm guessing he was already halfway there." Blushing, Jon cleared his throat, and exchanged a furtive glance with his partner. Was she blushing too? He'd have to ask his friend about that.
Eyeing Mica's mount, Lor commented, "Looks like you've got yourself a ride, and here I thought you weren't coming along."
"Perk of the position whitey. I got a radio relay from Command this morning. They don't have good intel on the demon's disposition within the city and think this will be a prime opportunity."
"So what about us?"
She shrugged, but her expression turned serious as she replied. "You'll ride your partners from last night. That's what the risathra is all about." She patted the chief on the shoulder playfully. "I wasn't joking when I said I had to belly-ride this guy. See, now you're bound to each other. A physical contract if you will, or maybe metaphysical. I never got into the details." She then brightened up, "Anyway, we needed a couple more casters. We can't just rely on your slow ass."