Again and again Geme cast her line into the Dalaran fountain. She had been doing it for hours, and it wanly occured to her she'd be doing it for hours more. She was past tedium, merely a mild irritation that she still hadn't caught the last coin for her set. Now and then she'd idly gaze up at the clear, frigid sky above Dalaran - its pleasant deep blue hue a shade lighter than her own skin - and gaze back down at the water, wanly observing the ripples in the fountain from each cast of her line. The bobber would bounce and she would haul it in. A relaxing if soporific activity unbroken by any sudden change in her surroundings until...
She smelled something funky. And she felt something big moving vigorously behind her. Slowly, warily, the sapphire-skinned draenei turned. Her eyes went wide.
A great inebriated Tauren, his white-and-brown hunk nude save for a loincloth, was dancing vigorously, not a meter behind her back. Her eyes met his and he hooted and cheered and went on dancing, shuffling side to side, flexing and pumping his fists in the air. He was thick with the smell of strong rum and male Tauren body odor. Passerbys pretended to not see him, continuing on their way, their pace unbroken. Loitering mages continued their petty hobnobbing. But Geme's mind went blank. She backpedaled slowly, still holding her brilliantly tricked-out fishing pole, then dashed down the street, past a row of shops and mageworks, finally diving into a pet store.
Geme glanced idly about the store, peering into the massive fishtank full of crabs and pufferfish, at the cages of all sorts of insects and small animals, the shelves of accessories - collars and brushes and such. Slowly it occured to her - why did the sight of that Tauren drive her into such a panic? He was ever so huggably cute-
Her eyes turned to one of the displays. Upon the brilliant golden straw stood the Tauren - as before, dancing in his loincloth, and as she turned to him he again cheered, hooted, and chanted something in Taurahe:
"Bo parr mahne! Bo parr mahne! Bo parr mahne!"
Again Geme was overwhelmed by panic and fled out the door. Down the sewers to the Underbelly Tavern. She had been there only once years ago but somehow now seemeed the moment for another visit. She dashed, one delicate hoof in front of the other, her generous blue bust bouncing beneath the low hem of her reinforced shaman's robe, fleshy tail wagging with excitement, down the sewer pipe, right at the second junction, she saw the ornery blood elf waitress walk by with a platter of drinks and appetizers. She came to a stop at the front desk of the bar and...
...was once more face-to-face with the dancing Tauren. She just noticed for the first time that his white splotches, especially that one across his snout, stretched in the funniest, cutest way whenever he flexed his tough arms.
This guy works as hard as he parties...
Geme already saw how this had to end but... The human proprietor and blood elf waitress both glared at her. They didn't seem to mind the Tauren, or even notice he was there. Probably a regular. Geme dashed back down the sewer pipe, past discarded vials and putrid offal and everything else that flowed through Dalaran's sewers. One pipe, to her left, led up to the surface, but Geme decided to take the right pipe. She was in an adventurous mood.
She found herself looking out the overflow pipe that drained into Lake Wintergrasp. Out the pipe lay the stunning vista of the frozen landscape, yet the sewer itself lay within the magical aura of warmth that enveloped the city. She turned away and as she glanced back into the city she already knew what her eyes would meet with, and she was not the least bit surprised this time to see...her friend, the dancing tauren, with his off-white chest and forearms and splotches of light brown everywhere else. He hooted and pumped his fist at Geme again.
Her feelings of panic and reservation were gone. She knew what she wanted.
With two motions of her delicate, nimble blue fingers Geme undid the front clasp of her reinforced leather robe and let it fall to the ground. The magical convection of warmth that ran through the city pulsed over her brilliant sapphire curves, over her bust and shoulders and butt and arms and thighs, the occasional crosswinds of chill just slightly tantalizing. She turned her exposed butt to the Tauren and waggled it back and forth hard a few times before giving her butt a resounding slap, like a fleshy blue bass drum. Geme did a spectacular Shattrathi pole dance, waggling and shaking her way towards the still-dancing Tauren, his mirth now compounded by palpable excitement, rubbing up against his white-and-brown flanks and increasingly protruding loincloth. She tugged at one side of her thong, then the other, then the former, pulling it down with sharp tugs to each side, like a stripper. It caught for a moment on her engorged vuvla, blue, silver and lavender beneath its silk folds; a sharper tug left the undergarment empty at her hooves.
The Tauren was still very much drunk and full of mirth but Geme could see his cute, dark bovine eyes widen with excitement. She could smell the sweat of his arousal. Her naked butt still rubbing against his thigh, occasionally teasing her vulva, she reached behind her and pulled down his loincloth. The tips of her fingers stroked his manhood, hinting at its proportions...she turned and gasped with desire at the sight of the thing.
To be sure, the Tauren did not circumcise. The manhood, off-white with cute blotches of brown like the rest of his body, was a long, wide, conical chunk of beefy flesh (and Geme was amused at the irony), his abundant scrotum a mass of virile folds. The entire organ heaved with his desire. Geme was beyond herself. She knelt and- well, not so much knelt as dove in, taking its enormity into her mouth. His manhood was delightfully warm and fleshy, sweat made it slightly salty, it exuded an intoxicating male scent. She licked it up and down with her small grey ciliated tongue. Geme was aware draenei tongues were a bit rougher than those of most races, and apparently the Tauren found the uncommon tingling irresistable. With her tongue and palate she felt the manhood throb and throb with mad desire. Giving it one last squeeze with both her long-fingered blue fists and a last deep kiss, she pulled it out from her mouth and turned her back to him again, bracing herself against the damp, lichen-covered stone walls of the sewer pipe, guiding the massive organ into her love canal.
