Oh no. I knew what was coming. “Why don’t I show you what we do in Solstheim? It will be fun – come on!” Jumping up on a table, she began to dance, writhing as the local bard began a tune and the crowd stomped and clapped, keeping time. “Awww… isn’t this fun?” she beamed. I gazed at her, no longer even slightly embarrassed by her behaviour; I felt only love and admiration, enow to Shout it at her, project it as through will. Orcs kept thrusting drinks at her, and she did her best to keep up. She leapt from table to table, a roar erupting as she stumbled or stepped in the remains of someone’s meal, knocked over a tankard. Many greenish-grey hands kept her from falling – a few, I noted with some annoyance, a big cock bit too helpful, lingering overly long in places that were not the most likely spots to save her from falling. Yet this, too, I had learned was an Orsimer tradition: A near-orgy would ensue after a wedding, but although the festivities would begin communally, most paired off with their usual spouses into their own huts or rooms (many of which were shared in any case) ere long. For now, however, the night was heating up as Vilja continued to dance – and imbibe more spirits. Here and there, a few orcs began the celebratory rites, biting each other’s lips bloody – hardly avoidable, given their tusks – as they roughly kissed. A few even swatted one another’s cheek or buffeted an ear, playfully professing their love and lust in the orcish way. Soon, clothing and armour made its way to the floor – including, I was suddenly horrified to see, Vilja’s! Several green hands steadied her as my love stepped out of her blue dress, more than one on her round buttocks as others held – or rather stroked – her ivory legs. Again I restrained myself; orcs frequently pawed at one another thusly, going so far as engaging in heavy foreplay, though they rarely actually coupled with someone other than, as I have mentioned, their usual spouse (or spouses; orc chiefs, especially, were allowed – even expected to have – several wives. I briefly wondered if a female could become chief, and thereby acquire more than one husband; I felt it only fair…). The crowd became more raucous, the smoky longhouse air heavy with the strong odours of orc sweat and intensifying sex, the sweetness of mead, headiness of orcish ale. Couples and trios began to conjoin, grunts, moans, guffaws punctuating the murmured sounds of love: “You’re too pretty for an orc, but I still love you.” “Grr… Stick that in me, you great, ugly horker!” “My, what big japan tits you have.” “Grr! That’s the biggest sword I ever seen!” Not exactly my idea of lovemaking, but to each his or her own, I thought. Perhaps not long ago I would have found the scene intensely arousing; just now I had thoughts and eyes only (well, perhaps not entirely ) for Vilja. Approaching her, I could not believe that she seemed oblivious to the activities around her; whilst at least two couplings asian went on beneath her she danced and clapped, accompanied by neither music or clothing, quite nude but for a ring or two and the Amulet of Mara, bouncing above her enticingly jiggling breasts. Withal, her eyes did not leave mine as a big, naked orc male bent an ample female over the table virtually between my bride’s feet, began to thrust vigorously into her. Another male sat naked upon the same table, large thews splayed, two females slurping noisily at his engorged green member as he rumbled encouragement. I plucked Vilja, half giggling, half shrieking in surprise and (I hoped) excitement, from her perch. I carried my bare bride over a shoulder into the starry night. She gasped as the cold air nipped her delectable bits, though mere moments passed ere we entered our own hut that the grateful clan had loaned us. Though small, it was larger than a tent. Gently, by the light of a banked hearth and single brazier, I placed Vilja on the low cot. Propped on her elbows, she ceased her japanese giggling, chest still heaving with recent exertion, rosy nipples standing erect a half-finger, one supple pale leg crossed over the other, as though to hide the near-hairless crease betwixt them; the distended pink lips, however, were not as shy. I absorbed the sight, forgetting to breathe. “S-Sweetheart?” The plaintive tone bespoke tomes to me; she was afraid, almost certainly a maiden. Of course, I knew that, but why had I never thought about it? The awareness made me dizzy. “You are…? Have you never…?” “N-No.” Her exhilaration had waned; no Hardcore longer did she appear drunk. I'd just been dumped. I Hardcore replied big cock “only if you want” stopping then saying “I really want to be with you but don't want to japan push it, so it will only be shaved if you shave it”. The driver is one car away from us, and Sadie is jamming her tongue hard against my lips. I can tell from their items they're aiming on keeping Matt to drunk too bother them. “Yeah, and I think the girls and I are just going to go to bed early. There would be plenty of recreational asian japanese time for the couple, who were in their mid-thirties. She laughed a little to herself, astounded by his arrogance. This is more than I ever thought it was going to be. “Nicely done, little brother,” said Tabatha. They made me do things and took my clothes. Who the hell was he? Umeko's fingers slipped into my butt-crack.