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Tale of a twisting Bard (KuroRekka & Berg_Katze)

KuroRekka

Planetoid
Joined
Jan 8, 2014
The wee cracks of a balmy summers’ dawn were still a long way off and only the light of the dipping half-moon outlined a figure of average height walking along the beaten path. The athletic figure was softly humming to himself as a soft cool breeze fluttered his shaggy burnt umber hair. The look on the youthful man’s face was one of delight as he pondered on his most recent quests’ reward, so recent in fact that proof of it was just drying on his flaccid cock. Sure the town only offered the small pouch of gold jangling on his hip as a reward, but he delighted more in the one that had warmed his temporary mattress in the town of Briewater.

That buxom lass would definitely not be forgotten anytime soon with her long locks, her hour glass figure and the way her ample bosom threatened to spill out the top of her dress. In fact her luscious body was worth far more than a simple wolf pack contract, but stubble faced Roland would never look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead he had rightly chosen to indulge in the gift for quite some time. This wasn’t even the first time he had been rewarded handsomely for an easy job. The most memorable being the three beauties in the town of Haldburg after clearing out a simple imp infestation. The fact that one of the three was the Duke’s young wife herself made it all the more memorable. With a nice handful of tit flesh and a tight pussy, so tight in fact that he wondered if the pathetic Duke had a dick the size of a scrawny finger or one at all.

The ruggedly handsome bard stepped towards the right of the path as he strode past the fork in the road. The bard was trying to put as much distance between him and the quaint town of Briewater as possible. With filthy carnal memories still in mind he whispered a quick thank you to his two mentors that had made such delights possible. The first being his very own father, the man had taught him the ins and outs of handling a blade and how to slay many a different beasts. It was however his second mentor that had shown him the hustle and muscle of pleasure making.

The bard Yvonne had taken a sixteen year old Roland under her wing upon hearing him twang away at a lute. Over two years she had trained him and entrusted in him various emotional tunes. It was however upon his eighteenth that she had shown him the touch of a woman, while showing him things he would never have dreamt of attempting. During his taboo lessons she had instructed him in ways to make the most of his natural charisma and vigorously learnt talents before sending him on his way. Her final words still ever present in the back of his mind, “It’s a bard’s duty to bring joy to all, no matter the form my young student. So go forth and bring joy to some sad women” she had whispered.

With those parting words he had packed his backpack, sheathed a trusty broadsword on his back before setting out with a lute in hand and a cock shuddering in anticipation. Since that very moment he had known the touch of many a woman, young and old, skinny and curvaceous. Each time he had left them drained, breathless and lost in bliss at the delights most men would not even know to try. Then as quickly as they experienced their first orgasm, he would depart from their sleeping forms to sneak off into the darkness of the night. Not unlike what he had just done as he made steady haste to the next town of possibilities.
 
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