form on her petals and her fingertips. His cock reacted in sympathy, spewing a bead of warning. It wouldn't be long before he came too, unless he proceeded carefully.
She was not done at that point. Now she drew her fingers over her slit with a slower movement. Her nether lips were glossy with intimate dew, the flesh roused and glowing, waiting for him. She panted and purred, writhing on his pallet, sticking her bottom in the air, showing off her cunt.
As he worked his cock slowly, not wanting to spend again too quickly, the tent flap lifted and Dominic looked in. Before the other man could speak, Thierry lifted a finger to his own lips and winked. Although he gestured for the soldier to enter, Dominic remained in the entrance, his scarred face reddening, fierce eyes pinned to Sister Vivienne's bared backside and pussy.
Thierry squeezed his cock gently and massaged his growing shaft. He shifted forward again on his knees, drawing ever closer to the pallet. Again he silently encouraged Dominic in, but the other man hung back, staring, his own breeches soon bulging in a shocked salute. Dominic was the cautious sort and regarded women on the whole with trepidation. The scar on his face made him look more fearsome than he was—a valuable asset in a fight, but it did him no favors with wenches who often shrank away in horror. Thierry was disappointed he couldn't tempt the other man in, but on the other hand, perhaps he'd enjoy this one alone. Another novelty.
He heard the hitch of her startled breath when his hand smacked against her arse cheek, but only a second later that same breath turned into a squeal of shock when he wrapped his arm tight around her hips, slammed his open mouth to her twitching pussy, and stabbed his tongue between her sopping wet labia. Grunting ferociously, he sucked the next orgasm—and the next—right out of her keening, shuddering body.
As she cursed at him for tricking her, Thierry laughed into her squeezing nether mouth and flicked his bold tongue rapidly inside her, delighting in his victory. He'd taken the little witch by surprise. Yes, now he knew she was a lying witch and not a nun. She struggled belatedly, and not very hard, to get away. But his arm was merciless around her hips and she could jerk and curse all she wanted, he would feast his fill. She could not even kick him from this pose, while he was between her knees. He had her right where he wanted her.
Serve her right for trying to fool him into believing her a nun. Letting him think she was out of bounds. Not now she wasn't. The moment he smelled that scent in her hair he should have realized. What nun would go to the trouble of scenting her hair? Why would she keep it long and so full? Surely that was a vanity. But not until she sat and watched him empty his seed, barely flinching at the sight, was he certain of this fraud.
He'd never been so relieved to discover a lie in his life.
Standing, he lifted her off the pallet, her upper body dangling over his arm as he continued supping from that sweet dish of honey. She must have grown dizzy with the blood rushing to her head, for her legs gave up their kicking and closed instead around his waist, ankles locked behind his back for more stability.
Suddenly he felt her hand on his cock. Her head still hanging upside down, her hair stroking his thighs with every sway, she directed the head of his phallus to her lips. Her tongue explored the sensitive underside, before she opened her mouth wider and sucked the crown between her soft, but firm lips.
He shuddered and then, with a feral cry smothered deep in the folds of her cunny, Thierry jettisoned his thick cream for the second time that evening, this time into Sister Vivienne's mouth for sure.
Chapter Six
"Nectar of the Gods." He laughed as she finally writhed free, falling on her belly across his pallet, orgasms still fluttering and dying within her. He slapped her rump hard and then she heard him say, "What did you
She was not done at that point. Now she drew her fingers over her slit with a slower movement. Her nether lips were glossy with intimate dew, the flesh roused and glowing, waiting for him. She panted and purred, writhing on his pallet, sticking her bottom in the air, showing off her cunt.
As he worked his cock slowly, not wanting to spend again too quickly, the tent flap lifted and Dominic looked in. Before the other man could speak, Thierry lifted a finger to his own lips and winked. Although he gestured for the soldier to enter, Dominic remained in the entrance, his scarred face reddening, fierce eyes pinned to Sister Vivienne's bared backside and pussy.
Thierry squeezed his cock gently and massaged his growing shaft. He shifted forward again on his knees, drawing ever closer to the pallet. Again he silently encouraged Dominic in, but the other man hung back, staring, his own breeches soon bulging in a shocked salute. Dominic was the cautious sort and regarded women on the whole with trepidation. The scar on his face made him look more fearsome than he was—a valuable asset in a fight, but it did him no favors with wenches who often shrank away in horror. Thierry was disappointed he couldn't tempt the other man in, but on the other hand, perhaps he'd enjoy this one alone. Another novelty.
He heard the hitch of her startled breath when his hand smacked against her arse cheek, but only a second later that same breath turned into a squeal of shock when he wrapped his arm tight around her hips, slammed his open mouth to her twitching pussy, and stabbed his tongue between her sopping wet labia. Grunting ferociously, he sucked the next orgasm—and the next—right out of her keening, shuddering body.
As she cursed at him for tricking her, Thierry laughed into her squeezing nether mouth and flicked his bold tongue rapidly inside her, delighting in his victory. He'd taken the little witch by surprise. Yes, now he knew she was a lying witch and not a nun. She struggled belatedly, and not very hard, to get away. But his arm was merciless around her hips and she could jerk and curse all she wanted, he would feast his fill. She could not even kick him from this pose, while he was between her knees. He had her right where he wanted her.
Serve her right for trying to fool him into believing her a nun. Letting him think she was out of bounds. Not now she wasn't. The moment he smelled that scent in her hair he should have realized. What nun would go to the trouble of scenting her hair? Why would she keep it long and so full? Surely that was a vanity. But not until she sat and watched him empty his seed, barely flinching at the sight, was he certain of this fraud.
He'd never been so relieved to discover a lie in his life.
Standing, he lifted her off the pallet, her upper body dangling over his arm as he continued supping from that sweet dish of honey. She must have grown dizzy with the blood rushing to her head, for her legs gave up their kicking and closed instead around his waist, ankles locked behind his back for more stability.
Suddenly he felt her hand on his cock. Her head still hanging upside down, her hair stroking his thighs with every sway, she directed the head of his phallus to her lips. Her tongue explored the sensitive underside, before she opened her mouth wider and sucked the crown between her soft, but firm lips.
He shuddered and then, with a feral cry smothered deep in the folds of her cunny, Thierry jettisoned his thick cream for the second time that evening, this time into Sister Vivienne's mouth for sure.
Chapter Six
"Nectar of the Gods." He laughed as she finally writhed free, falling on her belly across his pallet, orgasms still fluttering and dying within her. He slapped her rump hard and then she heard him say, "What did you
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