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When did my hand venture to my hard cock and start to rub through my pants? Was that a wet spot I could feel starting to form through me jeans? Surely...not. I tried to look away, I really did, but the sounds coming forth from the front were too inviting to not look. I watched as her legs spread slightly farther apart, I could no longer see the hem of her skirt from down the aisle. The dirty magazine tumbled to the floor, forgotten. She started to shake, I could see it in the slight bit of thigh. * * * I woke up the next morning, having to pry a sleeping Saela’s lips from my sore left nipple. The right one was sore too…she had made good on her threat and spent the entire night painting my leviathan breasts with her tongue and nursing on the nipples. The little elf was fascinated by them, probably because her own kind just never came so well equipped. I contemplated running again, but instead laid out rations for everyone like some sort of peasant servant. What had this Myrnotaur done to. More

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