Analgesia Chapter 2 - Eye of My Storm
Earlier that morning, in the inn's backroom.
"Fuck yeah, oh fuck," Þorbeorn stands proudly with one hand on his hip, the other on a sandy head of braided hair. The head bobs rhythmically, the rhythm accompanied by an erotic slurping.
Knelt before him is Beorg. Stray locks have escaped her braid. Tears frame her swollen eyes from the watering as she suppresses her gag. Her lips are wrapped enthusiastically around Þorbeorn's throbbing penis, saturated in thick drool. More of the same thick slobber runs out of Beorg's mouth and down her chin as she slurps at the cock without thought to her normally proper look.
"Ass up, miss." At the command, Beorg lifts her shapely butt, shaking it flirtatiously as it bumps into Álefer's cock.
"You know the drill, lover. Pitch your longship to part my wet mountains if you want to pass safely through the eye of my storm, sailor. Your unsealed wood will not glide smoothly." Beorg uses one hand to lift Þorbeorn's from its dominant position on her head. Taking her lips off his cock, she addresses the man behind her.
Álefer uses a sponge in the pitcher to brush the whale oil over his turgid cock, which quickly takes on a viscous sheen. With a final motion he squeezes a sponge load of the oil over Beorg's puckered orifice.
"Attaboy," she speaks with a flirtatious smile, lifting her ass up further to meet Álefer.
"Oooohhhhhhh mmmmmhhhh. Mmmm." Beorg moans lightly as Álefer penetrates her. His penis has a mild downward curvature and as it inches inside her, Beorg feels him pressing on her anterior fornix. She had already been potently aroused by the scene: her, prim, ordinary, and respectable professional and community member, on her knees. Four soldiers in states of undress around her as they engage with the ménage, their hard cocks already sprung to life and eager to claim her. Neat appearance sullied with saliva and tears and flush and sweat. And as Álefer pushes into Beorg's supple, inviting anus, her arousal burgeons anew and begins leaking down her parted legs as her pussy lubricates.
Álefer groans and sits still for a minute, the only motion that of Beorg's head bobbing up and down on Þorbeorn's erection. After the moment passes, Ále begins to slowly thrust, moving tenderly as the oil massages into his cock and her ass. She quickly stretches to accommodate his girth, the erotic engorgement of her opening the humming bowstring to its years of diligent utility.
"Mmmm mmmmm mmmm mmmmm!" Beorg moans, muffled and truncated as each time Ále plunges into her from behind, she is thrust forward against Þorbeorn. Her tits sway and swing at the abrupt movements on either side, their rings swinging from the erect points.
Álefer and Þorbeorn each moan in pleasure as they use Beorg for their lusts, and she them for hers. The first in action, Þorbeorn is also the first to get there, his face flushing and hips subtly lifting as he begins to build an orgasm. His hands are on Beorg's head again, and she makes no move to resist as he begins to hold her and thrust into her mouth in rhythm with Ále in her ass.
Meanwhile, Geásor steps closer at his position to the side, slowly stroking his growing erection. As Þorbeorn draws near to climax, Geásor angles to replace him at the position to Beorg's head.
Mearscer steps from the other side, seemingly not sure how to be included but working in a hand to smack Beorg's butt cheek. She yelps with pleasure at the slap, and then moans softly as he runs the hand up her back.
"Can I get underneath and fuck that pussy?"