Starting Over

Happy Returns



Fury looked out the window of her small home in Kharnos with anticipation. Where was he? Why hadn’t he arrived? She got his letter early that morning – he was supposed to come today.



The dwarf checked her make up for the thousandth time in the mirror next to her door. She glanced around the room in despair. He was so perfect, so exquisite and she would never be good enough for him. She felt powerful, beautiful and in charge around everyone in the world until he was near. Then she felt like a fat, ugly little freak – not worthy of his greatness. She just knew he looked down on her crude dwarven dwelling and its furnishings, and feared he might look down on her too. But he did tell her he loved her...



Fury grabbed a chair and slid it across the floor toward the window in frustration. She had many exotic Darenei tapestries on the walls, her furniture was mostly Night-Elvin, with a few dearly bought pieces from the Blood-Elf in key places. Her goblets and dishes were the finest dwarves could craft. The silk robe she was wearing was created by human artists in far-away Stonetalon. But it was never good enough for her love.



The dwarf glared at the window. She wanted to crack it open so she could smell his approach, but also knew if he saw her snuffing the air for his scent he would be repulsed. Deathrage, the magnificent warlock, was too beautiful and polished for a typical earthy, dirty dwarf. Fury had to take great measures with be less dwarven to please him.



Finally, as Fury was checking her looks yet again the soft tap she was waiting for sounded on her door. Trying to walk at a self-assured pace, it was all she could do not to run and fling the door open wide. “Who is it?” she called softly, expectantly.



“You had better open this door and let me in, woman,” his voice purred. “And you had best be on your knees.”



She smiled with joy and let him in, dropping to her knees obediently at once. Looking down at the floor, the way he demanded, she trembled in expectation, hoping Deathrage would be pleased. Exquisitely embroidered slippers entered and stopped in front of her. Her breath hitched and she waited.



“Where is my wine?” he snarled impatiently.



“I, I didn’t know when you would be arriving, master,” Fury answered, tears coming to her eyes. She had displeased him. “I will fetch it immediately if you wish.”



“Useless bitch!” the elf snarled, and back-handed her on the cheek. Fury’s head snapped to the side, and stars swam before her eyes. “Get my drink while I consider your punishment.”



With a submissive sob the dwarf scampered to the cupboard in the corner and swiftly fetched a bottle of wine and a glass, uncorking with trembling fingers. She cast frequent glances at Deathrage while preparing his drink as the beloved, arrogant elf sat on her divan and rifled through his pack.



Fury approached looking down at the ground like she knew he preferred, offering him the glass. He took it from her hands and sniffed it with an expression that said he didn’t expect much from anything the dwarf had to offer. He took a tentative sip, then leaned back and drank it while studying his love slave kneeling on the floor in front of him.



“Did you finish enchanting the last blade I brought?” he finally spoke when the glass was half empty. Fury’s knees were starting to ache, but she knew better than to complain.



“Yes, my master,” she answered, hope surging in her breast that perhaps she had pleased him.



“I brought another for you,” he said and pulled the familiar wooden box out of his bag and set it on the seat next to him. “The wine is acceptable. Instead of punishing you, I think we will work on enchanting this one together. We will find a human – perhaps we can work on your looks a bit more in the process. The dwarf pre-cum was usless, but I do see improvement using human.”



She grasped his finely shaped feet in appreciating and planted a kiss on his travel-worn boots. “Thank you, dear Master,” she crooned.





-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.



A handsome young human was lying on Fury’s sofa, his head currently resting in the pretty dwarf’s lap. His mind was reeling with the strangeness of the situation. Just a short while ago the dwarf and her handsome boyfriend? Husband? who was wearing a ninja outfit of all things had approached them about a threesome. Well, the bar they had met in was the right place for that sort of thing – it’s patrons well known for their more creative interpretations of what a couple was. He had never had a dwarf before, and assumed her partner was a dwarf playing with deviant fish. Eating one had the strange effect of turning one into a ninja or pirate temporarily.



She ran her carefully groomed fingers through the young man’s blond hair, playing with the strands, and tracing a finger over his temples and face. Occasionally she would glance over to her partner for approval. “Kiss him,” the ninja demanded, and to the human’s delight, she obeyed.



Moist warm lips, probing tongue, demanding mouth – the dwarf was good the man quickly acknowledged. He returned the kiss gladly, and she passionately lifted his face off her lap for more purchase. The human gave a low moan and ran his free hand down one silken arm. Her skin was like whipped butter, and he caressed her exposed limbs and neck, feeling his cock grow impossibly hard.



Deathrage ran a practiced hand down his own prick, still encased in leather pants, watching intently. “Fury, my pet,” he purred, “our friend seems a bit uncomfortable in those constricting pants.” The human watched the man’s bulge out of the corner of his eye while enjoying the dwarf’s feather touches on his thighs, stomach and sides. Soon her fingers were deftly opening his belt, unbuttoning his fly. He gave a moan of anticipation.



She released the human’s penis, which sprang out and stood proud in its new freedom. Deathrage sneered at the size, but forced a pleased expression on his face before the human noticed. “Suck him, pet” he commanded in his arrogant voice. Fury stood up and the young man sat back on the couch, allowing the dwarf to pull his pants the rest of the way off his legs. She eagerly knelt in front of the human, caressed his balls and ran her tongue up his shaft, from base to tip. He shuddered with pleasure.



Deathrage slowly undressed, removing his shirt first, then slowly peeled off the tight leather slacks. He flipped his black hair in back of his shoulders, and glanced over at the mirror by the door, admiring his own ass and cock. It wasn’t as magnificent as it was in his real looks, but for a human, it was above average. He approached his kneeling slave and started stroking her back with his cock, enjoying the way goosebumps sprang on her back in its wake. “On all fours,” he growled at her, and Fury immediately obeyed.



The human had his eyes shut in bliss, and never saw the dwarf catching his drops of pre-cum in a small glass vial she withdrew from under the couch. She swallow his prick deeply, letting it reach all the way to the back of her throat and didn’t gag once. My this woman was a pro. His cock twitched and he curled his toes, willing for his orgasm to wait.



“Get on your knees, friend,” the blood-elf in disguise purred, and the human happily complied. He took the dwarf’s hand and gestured her to the thickly carpeted floor, where she lay in front of him. Pulling her skirts out of the way, he was delighted to find her naked under her dress and fully aroused. Without hesitation he hugged her open thighs to his shoulders and proceeded to lick his way up her cream-coated thighs.



The human felt a warm hand stroke his back and paused only long enough to smile in encouragement at the man behind him. The ninja’s cock was long and curved in an upward arc, and he knew where it was going. Fury was wiggling her hips, bucking against his mouth and drenching his chin with her juices. Deathrage lubed his prick with a small jar of slippery oil.



Knees spread wide in anticipation, the human gasped when the ninja finally started to enter his tight ass. His cock dripping and twitching, Fury scooted down and grasped him, using him to caress her swollen clit. The three were moaning and grunting in excitement. Deathrage started to pick up the pace, fucking the human’s ass a bit more quickly now. The human planted his hands and knees and concentrated on not cumming and not falling. The dwarf turned onto her hands and knees as well, and scooted back under him so he could enter her dripping pussy.



The moans soon turned to shouts of arousal. The young human plunged his cock into Fury’s wet entrance and the blood elf continued to thrust into him. “I’m so close,” the dwarf hissed through gritted teeth. “Harder!” she commanded, feeling her climax building, grasping a hand around the handle of a waiting dagger under the sofa. Both human and elf obliged, both thrusting harder and faster, sweat dripping down both their bodies.



“Soon, soon!” Fury panted. The human started bucking his hips wildly, his eyes shut in concentration. Deathrage grasped the man’s hips, slamming into him as well. Seeing the arousal and enjoyment on the warlock’s deviate-altered face as she watched over her shoulder was enough for the dwarf – her pussy clenched and spasmed, driving her over the edge. The man gave a final powerful thrust and start pouring what felt like buckets of cum into her grasping cunt as she twisted around and swiftly drove the dagger between his ribs, despite the power of her orgasm.



Bewildered blue eyes flew open and he looked at her puzzled. “Why?” he whispered as he fell, lifeless, on top of her heaving body. Deathrage laughed manically, pulled his fevered cock from the murdered man’s ass and came with shout, spraying his seed over the corpse and Fury’s eager face.



Wiping his penis on the man’s body, the warlock gave a smirk at the dwarf trying to get out from under the human. Fury gave her master a nervous, hopeful smile as she clambered to her feet and withdrew the blade from the victim’s side. Muttering her spells, they both smiled with satisfaction as the runes glowed blood red before fading.



“That was enjoyable, pet,” the Blood-Elf nodded with approval as he cancelled the effect of the deviate fish, reverting to his natural looks.



“Thank you, master,” she groveled, while boxing up the knife. She waited for his orders, not knowing if he wanted her to bathe, or perhaps service him some more. His cock was still semi-hard, and she was well aware of his endurance. The human’s spunk dripped down her legs, and she could feel the cooling from Deathrage’s cum drying on her face and neck.



He coolly looked her over. “Take your vial. We will work on your looks a bit more.” With that command he turned and headed for her bath. Fury sighed – he could take hours in there. Fetching the small glass containing the human’s pre-cum, she headed for her enchanting bench in a back room. It was a pity elf pre-cum wouldn’t work.





-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.



It was another guild meeting in the Tavern. Sophie sat next to a couple of fellow hunters with their backs to the wall, listening in for hidden messages or snippets of important information in Devons long, drawn-out speeches. The Soulbinders were top priority, and thankfully as of yet they had managed to keep their existence a secret from all but the select few.



Illianya, a knock-out of a darenei hunter, sat to her left. Sophie marveled at her pale blue skin, almond eyes, and the tentacles on her jawbones that seemed to be testing the air with their graceful movements. The dwarf didn’t have a clue how the darenei could keep her balance on her tiny little black hooves, but she was an excellent hunter, with a killer of a pet – a strange and vicious ravager. Sophie wasn’t sure how anyone could bond with a giant drooling bug, but Illianya was delighted with her companion.



Her eyes glanced around the room and she sighed silently to herself. It had been a couple weeks now, and she missed Reginald more and more. Her friend was still watching the roads and trails through Silverpine for the Blood-Elf deliverer of un-enchanted knives, and Sophie had returned to Ironforge. The only positive news out of the time, besides Ascenta’s discovery of who was doing the runework, was that evidently very few blades had been successfully created. No mysterious permanent deaths had been reported from anywhere in Azeroth or Outland as of yet – Reg would have been the first had they not saved his life.



“Ye miss him, eh Lassie?” a gruff but friendly voice sounded from her right. Sophie nodded before thinking, and spun her head with embarrassment to see who spoke. Ivan, a veteran hunter of the guild, was watching her with amusement.



“I, I, who? I don’t know who you are talking about!” she sputtered indignantly.



The fellow dwarf chuckled warmly and lowered his voice to a private volume. “Now Sophie – don’t be tryin and kid yerself. It’s as plain as the nose on me face how you and Longstrider feel about each other.”



She blushed deeply and looked down. Ivan was a good man – orange hair grizzled into gray, he had seen many wars and more skirmishes than a person could count. Between his legendary tracking skills, keen nose and keener instincts, there was no lying or pretending to this dwarf. “We were trying to be discreet,” Sophie replied mournfully.



“I hope he’s not embarrassed by ye being a maid of the mountain,” Ivan growled, with more than a touch of steel to his voice. “Ye be a woman to make any man proud, be they human, dwarf or whatever.”



Sophie shook her head vehemently. “Nay, Ivan. Don’t be concerned with that,” she smiled. “I just didn’t want our business out there for all to see. Some might be fretting over us being able to work together.” Her eyes rested on Fury’s frowning face across the room for a moment. “And some are less than friendly – I think a touch o’ jealousy, if ye know what I mean.”



Without looking over at the offending party, Ivan chuckled again. “Yes, Fury be quite incensed about the two of ye. She complained about yer ‘improper relationship’ to anyone and everyone while ye be gone.”



“What does she care?” Sophie asked, bewildered. “I mean they didn’t have anything going before I came along. Truth be told, Reg and I were attracted to each other a good long time before we did anything about it!”



Ivan shrugged a bit, and gave a concerned frown in the priest’s direction. “There’s something a bit off about that lass, Sophie. Watch yerself around her.”



Not a moment later Reginald himself entered the room, gave Devon a nod of apology for the interruption and slid into the first open seat. Sophie’s heart leapt like a school girls from her bosom with joy – her love was back. She tried not to grin like an idiot, but soon gave up – she just couldn’t help the happiness that simple spilled from seeing him.



Devon gave a nod at Reg and continued on with his recap of a raid the previous week. The paladin relaxed in his chair and deliberately ignored Fury’s sultry wink. He glanced around the room and grinned when he saw Sophie.



“Welcome home!” she grabbed the hem of her tabard and whispered. “It’s so good to see yer face!”



Fury glared pointedly at Reginald and Sophie’s fingers touching their tabards.



“I’ve missed you too, my cupcake,” the masculine voice reverberated in her brain. “It’s good to be home, better to be back to you.”



Sophie finally managed to get the goofy smile off her face. “Ack – the guild knows about us Reg – so much for discretion.” She glanced over at Fury with a frown. If looks could kill the hunter would have been carried out of the meeting in a netherweave bag. “Does our favorite priest look different to ye?”



Reginald leaned back in his seat paying a modicum of attention to Devon’s speech. Although he was sitting on the side of the room, he couldn’t turn and face Sophie without making their private chatting obvious, and he really wanted to drink her in. He schooled his features to reflect bored indifference and looked over at Fury. Sophie was right – the priest did look different. “Hum – what did she do to her looks, Soph?”



The hunter lowered her eyes pretending to examine her boots and studied the dwarf in question through her lashes. “It’s not noggenfogger or deviate fish, Reg, but she looks almost human! Her nose is wrong, her hair too shiny, her whole figure is skinnier.”



“Has she gotten taller?” Reg asked, searching his brain to try and think what could do such subtle changes to a person’s looks.



“Don’t know – she was seated when I came in,” she answered. Fury was trying to get Reg’s attention with flirtatious and covetous looks, occasionally stopping to glare at Sophie. “She makes me feel like a child again, fighting over some young school boy. Wish she’d grow up.”



Reg snorted, thankfully silent to all but his partner. “It’s not a fight – she has no chance of winning. It’s wistful thinking on her part.” He glanced around the room, looking at Fury again. “It doesn’t look right at all. It’s like she’s turning human or something.” He paused a moment, then sputtered over their private chat “and I’m not a school boy! I’ll show you ‘boy’ the moment we get out of here!”



It was all she could do to keep from giggling out loud. “Aye, that be true, love,” Sophie crooned. “I’m lookin forward to that!”



A different voice came through on whisper. “Sophie, Reginald, please stay after the meeting so we can discuss the progress of your mission,” Ascenta’s voice requested formally.



Turning human. Sophie pondered Fury for a bit while the priest was busy talking to someone, distracted from her hatred of Reg and her self for the moment. Her friend was right – Fury looked more human than when they had last seen her. It was true Fury looked more attractive to the human eye, but to dwarven tastes she was ‘off’. Who was the mage trying to impress?



The meeting was finally concluded, and Sophie made her way to the front to Devon’s table, and pulled out a seat next to Reginald. To her surprise before she had a chance to sit the paladin picked her up by the waist and kissed her firmly. Caught off guard only a moment, she returned the kiss with passion, feet dangling in the air. The pair ignored the cheers and hoots of their fellow guild mates.



Gently plunking her down in her chair, the paladin smiled broadly down at her. “I brought you a present,” he grinned.



Blushing brightly, she giggled and touched her tabard for private speaking. “Ah, that I know. But ye best leave yer pants on for the moment, dear.” She glanced around the emptying room with a touch of self-consciousness. Fury was glaring even more hatefully if possible, but everyone else looked amused. “Well, that’ll feed the gossip mill for a bit,” she shrugged cheerfully.



Devon eyed the couple speculatively. The room emptied at last, leaving Reg, Sophie, Ascenta and Devon alone. Wordlessly the elf shut the door and cast a silencing spell to keep their conversation private. “I don’t care what you two do together, as long as it doesn’t affect your work. I hope I am clear on this,” the guild leader spoke at last.



“It hasn’t yet, sir,” the paladin spoke confidently.



Devon nodded curtly, indicating that subject was closed as far as he was concerned. He had worked with Longstrider for years and trusted his discretion. He took a deep breath and gestured to his wife. “Ascenta assures me that the warlock’s words were, and I quote “Here, elf. Deliver this to the fat bitch,” and the elf answered with “I hate entering those cursed lands. It’s so cold, and those people are so hideous. She actually thinks I’m attracted to her. Why can’t you finish the enchanting yourself? Why her?”



The guild master looked around at the three people. “We all know Night Elves have perfect memory. Pair that with the evidence the blade used on Reginald was most likely wrapped in Frostmane troll cloth, it would seem that the enchanter is from Dun Morag.”



“I know there are more ‘cold lands’ than just Dun Morag,” Ascenta said softly. “Winterspring naturally comes to mind. And many lands have seasonal cold. But the Sin’dori indicated it was cold now, and as the Blood Elf come from a four-season land, it seems safe to assume the land in question must be very cold right now.” She gave Sophie an apologetic look before continuing. “As for the identity of the enchanter, we can probably assume she is a dwarf, as the Sin’dori are so uncomplimentary toward them.”



“They don’t’ know what they are missing,” Reg chuckled in private whisper to Sophie. She reached over and squeezed his hand with a faint smile. “So we look up all the female enchanters in the area – is there a list in Ironforge?”



Devon shook his head. “Yes, the Information Center has lists of everyone registered in professions, but there is nothing that forces a person to add themselves to it. We have many folks in the guild, for instance, that have taken up various professions to improve their gear, and don’t bother with registering.”



Sophie nodded in agreement. “I’ve never registered my leatherworking, Reg. I sell my surplus over the auction house and leave it at that.”



The guild master drummed his fingers on the table top. “I have Miss Firestone and Miss Flingcrag keeping an eye out from the mage quarter, discretely asking for enchanting work. Naturally, I’d like all of us to watch for enchanters – female dwarves in particular. And Sophie, I’d like you to cover the outside – especially watch around the roads leading to Ironforge. Someone is getting blades in the mail or delivered.”



With that, the meeting was concluded. Reg and Sophie gladly left the inn and headed for their flat. “So, about this present..” the dwarf quipped and winked up at her friend saucily.



The paladin stopped and smiled down at her. “You have to wait until we get home,” he teased. Sophie looked up at him grinning, and he placed his hand on her massive shoulder pad, resting it contentedly. The difference in height did make holding hands a bit impossible. “I’d call for Diamond and run us there quicker, but sharing a mount with you is too distracting.” The dwarf giggled in agreement.



The walk to Sophie’s flat took only a few minutes, as she lived quite close to the inn. Fingers trembling with anticipation, she unlocked the door, grabbed Reg’s hand and pulled him in. Slamming and locking the door on the world outside, the man grabbed her around the waste, hoisted her up to his eager mouth, and kissed her with passion. “Oh, but I have missed ye, Reg,” she crooned breathlessly.



Reginald swung her around and cradled her in his arms. “Let’s get a bit more comfortable,” he leered. “This plate does get, um, restrictive.” With that, he gently lowered her to the bed, kissing her deeply again.



“Allow me, love,” the dwarf smiled. “Sophie tutela eximo,” she stated, and watched with delight as Reg’s armor fell to the ground in sections. “You were right. Tis a useful spell,” Soph nodded with satisfaction. The paladin was standing before her, eyeing his armor with amusement. His linen trousers were tented in front to an almost painful degree – a sight not lost on the hunter.



“You – clothes off – now!” he demanded, sitting next to her on the bed and tugging at her shoulder plates. Sophie ran a hand up his shaft, wishing his pants were off as well. The familiar and dearly missed scent of his arousal hit her nose as she stroked his cock eagerly.



Reg gently took her hand off of his twitching member. “Hold that thought, my sweet. It will be over before we start if you don’t stop that.” She licked her lips, eyeing the wet spot on his trousers and feeling the flooding in her own knickers as she frantically pulled off her mail armor.



As she struggled with her mail, a task complicated by her arousal, Reg stood up and started fishing through his pack. “Time for presents,” he grinned and pulled out a small box.



“Ye already brought what I want, if ye would jest take her pants off,” she growled, approaching him stark naked. The candlelight in the room glistened off the moisture on her thighs and magnified the hardness of her nipples – her arousal could not be hidden or mistaken.



“Patience, dear,” he smiled, handing her the box. It was wrapped in pretty paper with a large bow.



Giving him a pained look, Sophie obeyed, expecting some silly token like a teddy bear. Men could be so sentimental at times. But instead of flowers or chocolates, she removed a miniature rocking chair from the box. She held it in her hands and gave him puzzled look.



Reginal grinned even wider. He pulled off his remaining clothes, standing before her in all his glory. His cock was straining, red, and dripping and Sophie gazed at it hungrily. Plucking the tiny chair from hands, he placed it in a clear area on the ground and tapped it with his finger, muttering a spell. Slowly the chair expanded to full size – large enough to comfortably fit a very large humanoid.



Sophie looked totally confused. “Um, thank ye? I didn’t know I needed another chair Reg.”



“Oh, you will understand in a second,” he leered, sitting down on it. It was a bit oversized for a human. He sat on the cushion, legs spread apart, his cock standing straight up from his loins. “Come here and have a seat,” he commanded, patting his lap.



The dwarf smiled with anticipation. Hopping up and straddling his lap, facing him, she brushed her stiff pubic hairs against his aching member, wiggling and teasing, dripping steadily. Reg ran his hands down her waist, gazing into her eyes, then tracing her mouth with a practiced thumb. “I’ve missed you too,” he stated.



Sophie kissed him deeply, searching his eyes through her lashes. Her heart swelled with love for the paladin at his words, and she returned his sentiments with deep feeling through her kiss. Firmly he grasped her hips, lifted her and slowly lowered her dripping cunt onto his aching prick. She moaned with the welcomed fullness, shutting her eyes in bliss. Reg leaned back in the chair, which had extremely long rockers, and hissed with arousal. Sophie was resting fully on his legs now, his cock completely sheathed in her hot, wet and tight pussy.



Slowly, gently Reg pushed with his feet and started rocking the chair, keeping a firm hold on Sophie’s hips to exaggerate the movement. The dwarf swooned – instead of a fast and furious pounding fuck, he was treating her to the slowest, gentlest, most sensual coupling she had ever felt. Creek, creek, creek – the chair made soft sounds of wood rubbing wood as it broke in under their easy-paced screwing.



Reginald moved his arms, placing one hand on the small of Sophie’s back to aid in her movement, and reaching with the other to her pussy. Oh so slowly he circled and rubbed her swollen clit with his thumb, while intently watching her lips and cheeks flush with her arousal. Oh so slowly he rocked the chair, feeling her wet and dripping pussy slide up and down his shaft with the chair’s movement. And oh so slowly he started building her arousal even higher, flicking and rubbing her nub just the way she liked it, but not quickly enough to bring her over the edge. Reg could feel his toes curling into the rug under his feet, and panted with effort not to cum.



“Ah Reg, my lovely, lovely dearheart!” she cried, wiggling her hips and drenching his balls and thighs with her cream. “If you go just a bit faster, we’ll both be there!”



He shook his head while smiling at her, and kissed her deeply, taking his time tasting her lips, tongue and mouth. “No, my passionfruit. I want this to last a long time. I’ve been waiting for this ever since I saw this chair in a shop in Southshore. I thought of you, my plump princess, and knew it would be this good.” Reg rocked the chair slightly harder, and only a tiny bit faster.



Sophie was in heaven. She was a woman who tended to get carried away very quickly – she might fantasize about taking it slow and making love all night long, but the reality was when she had Reg in her arms all she could do was get him inside her as fast and hard as possible. Cradled in his lap by his strong muscular arms, feeling the slow friction of his large cock in her tight pussy was so against everything she had ever done. It was delicious, but so, so frustrating.



The chair rocked and creeked. Sophie moaned and wiggled and begged. Reginald smiled, stroked, kissed, and ignored her pleas. In and out, in and out. His prick felt like it was growing even larger – it was so difficult to keep from pouring his load into her grasping snatch, but he held off. They could feel it building and building together – weeks of separation and frustration coming to a delicious head.



Scooching back a bit, Sophie lifted her legs and planted her feet on either side of Reg’s strong thighs. Squatting low with his cock still deeply imbedded, she was able to take control at last and fuck with wild abandon. The slow torture had to stop now – she gasped with pleasure and started slamming wetly on his member, her breath coming in ragged moans and animal noises.



Reginald wrapped his arms around her body, sweat dripping down his temples and head. She kissed him deeply, exploring his mouth with gusto, groaning and hissing with delight. Five more thrusts, four, she was close, so close. With her endearing yell Sophie gripped the paladin’s shoulders and came hard, shuddering, clenching, dripping. That was all it took and Reg joined her in the land of passion, pouring his love seed deep into her spurt after spurt.



The chair slowly came to a rest. Dwarf and human held each other tightly, refusing to let go of the closeness. Reg’s cock throbbed and twitched, slowly shrinking inside her, and Sophie sighed with contentment. Both dozed from the power of their orgasms, sleeping gently while feeling safe and fulfilled.



Creek, creek creek. Sophie awoke with a sleepy smile. Sometime during her nap her legs moved from squatting to kneeling, but it was most comfortable with the thick cushion on the chair. And sometime during her nap Reg’s prick went from flaccid and spent to hard and full again. Strong arms stroked her back, breasts, and sides, holding her close while his feet started the chair rocking again. Bright blue eyes gazed into steel gray, drinking him in. “I love you, Reg,” she confessed. It wasn’t said in fear, or the expectation of hearing it in return. It was the honest statement of a dwarven woman needing to speak her mind.



Creek, creek, creek. The chair sped up slightly. Reg held his woman closer and smiled. Life was good.