Cinder and the Season of Monsoons

Cinder was a river flowing with pent up longing, and she was near to spilling over her banks. She felt the orgasm quicken in her belly, the molten glass tension coiling tighter as Maeryll smushed her face against Cinder's cunt, building and building and building until she couldn't bear it any longer.

"GnnFFKK!" she shrieked, body tensing, cunt pummeled by the relentless thrusting of Maeryll's fingers. Somewhere outside there was a crack of distant thunder, as if the storm saturating the city had answered in kind, sympathetic to the elf's plight.

"Hahaha yes!" Maeryll cackled as Cinder's body shook with the intensity of her release.

Cinder felt her come explode out of her prone body like a tempest breaking upon a desert, drenching the thirsty desert sands. She briefly wondered if you could grow a cactus in pussy juice.

After a moment, Maeryll rose unsteadily from between Cinder's thighs. The pale elf was so doused with Cinder's come she looked like a drowned rat. Her mascara ran in teary streaks down her face, and her ashen hair was plastered to her forehead in sticky strands. Some of the viscous liquid even dripped from the pointed end of her nose, but there was a triumphant grin on her come-marked face. She crawled up Cinder's still-quaking body, holding the stem of a brimming coupe glass in her hand.

"We're gonna need a bigger cup," Cinder reckoned. She sat up on her elbows and accepted the glass, an answering smile twisting the bow of her lips at the sight of her friend's intense focus. The curvy elf swirled the come around in the glass lazily. "You wanna watch me drink this, huh?"

"Cinder, don't tease."

Cinder shrugged. She set the glass to her lips and began to drink. She gulped it all down, savoring the sweet taste of herself even as the come settled into her belly. "Lemme get the rest of it," Cinder suggested.

She sat up and licked Maeryll clean, her tongue lapping up the evidence of her satisfaction from her friend's skin. Maeryll tolerated the attention until Cinder stuck her tongue into the other elf's pointed ear, which earned her a swat on the tit.

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself," Maeryll retorted, climbing up from Cinder. She looked at the tableau—elf, squirt, and empty glass—and shook her head. "My god, that tablecloth is ruined," she said, sounding exceedingly pleased by the fact.

Cinder levered herself off the table and looked down at the mess. "Hm," she said thoughtfully, "I guess I missed some."

Shooting Maeryll an impish look over her shoulder, she snatched the coupe glass from the table and slid to the parquet. Cinder grabbed a fistful of linen and squeezed, wringing a trickle of her come from the damp cloth to splash into the glass. She quaffed it without hesitation while Maeryll looked on, blue eyes rapt, focused on the trickles which spilled down Cinder's chin to dribble on her wetly shining breasts.

"That's..." Maeryll said, voice hoarse with craving. "You're..."

As much as Cinder enjoyed seeing Maeryll at a loss for words, the drumbeat of her lust had kicked off again. It was like the more she came and the more she drank, the thirstier she got.

Speaking of thirsty... Cinder spotted several green bottles next to the champagne glass pyramid. She walked over, dress still hanging limply around her hips, and picked one up. She bit the cork out of it and took a sniff, then upended a portion of the bubbling liquid over her chest, dousing the sunkissed flesh of her tits in foaming champagne.

"Come on," she grinned at Maeryll, "we're just gettin' started."

While the storm intensified outside, the two elves fucked each other with feral abandon all over the empty ballroom. Cinder stripped off Maeryll's clothing with the kind of glee normally reserved for unwrapping a holiday gift. They roamed the landscape of each other's bodies, exploring every inch of skin with a kind of urgent, carnal voracity. Their flesh rose and fell together like the ebb and surge of the tides, crashing into each other in sprays of pleasure before gathering for the next swell. Cinder downed glass after glass of the ladysap Maeryll brought forth from her aching vulva, drinking until her chest was splattered with layers of her own fluids and all she could taste was the complex deliciousness of her cunt.

As good as it all felt, Cinder wasn't so lost to depravity so as not to return the favor. She pushed Maeryll's face onto the worked wooden floor and fucked her with three fingers from behind, then reamed out the woman's gorgeous little asshole with the neck of the half-full champagne bottle. After Maeryll had come, swearing and cursing and pounding her fists against the ground from the overwhelming ecstasy, Cinder pushed her face between the cream-porcelain cheeks of Maeryll's ass to catch the resulting fountain of sparkling liquid the silver-haired elf unleashed.

The elves whispered filthy things into each other's pointed ears while they tribbed on the steps of the ballroom's staircase. Maeryll writhed in Cinder's lap, her whimpers a soft melody that blended with the wet sound of their bodies coming together. Cinder came again, her exultant scream muffled by the consuming hunger of Maeryll's kisses.

They lay back on the stairs for a moment in a tangle of sweaty limbs, breath coming in short gasps as they tried to get their wind back. Maeryll slid a hand down Cinder's chest, cupping a boob and giving it a fond squeeze.

"Come on," she said, "I want to try something."

Cinder absently licked some effluvia from the bottom of the coupe glass, her tongue smearing its way around as she chased down the dregs of her spunk. "You've got that look. What're you planning?"

Maeryll's lips curled up at the corners to show a hint of teeth. She gave no explanation, but that just made Cinder more intrigued. She followed her friend, joining her on one of the balconies overlooking the ballroom. Cinder leaned over, breasts squishing into the railing, and glanced down. The taller elf tilted her head to the side, noticing that the balcony was directly above the pyramid of champagne glasses.

Decidedly empty champagne glasses.

Cinder rose from the railing and clapped her hands together. "Oh! Oh, yeah!"

She got down on the floor, legs hanging from between the balustrades of the gallery. Maeryll mounted her face, lowering the fragrant decadence of her steamy-hot pussy onto Cinder's lips. The velvet sweetness filled Cinder's mouth, suffusing her senses. She reached out with her tongue, delving into the treasure between Maeryll's legs while she wrapped her arms around her friend's pale thighs, pulling her tight.

While Cinder made a meal of Maeryll's cunt, the snow elf got down to the business of Cinder's climax. Maeryll had walked the paths of Cinder's pleasure countless times, and was more at home with the quaking flesh of Cinder's body than an elvish scout in the Long Forest. She had the lay of the land, so to speak, and all the myriad trails which led to Cinder's peak were well known to her.

This was why, after scant minutes of Maeryll having slipped three fingers into the flexible cuff of Cinder's vagina and pressing on the little spongy spot just so, the russet-haired elf found herself wailing, shrieking and thrashing in the throes of orgiastic delirium. Maeryll furrowed Cinder's cunt with gleeful fury, and Cinder bucked so hard she nearly threw the slender woman from her seat on Cinder's face.

Apparently, Maeryll enjoyed the feeling of her friend struggling beneath her, because she clamped her thighs down, ground her pussy into Cinder's lips, and came all over the other elf's face. Her orgasm was not quite so profuse as Cinder's, but it was still a flood of honeysuckle deliciousness that Cinder reflexively lapped up.

Through it all Maeryll kept thrusting her fingers, mad laughter bubbling up from her throat like the howl of an animal as she came on Cinder's face while still fucking her senseless.

Cinder's body vibrated with desire, cresting-crashing waves of pleasure pouring out of her, unquenchable and elemental. She felt herself climax, once, then again, then again until she lost count, each one a paroxysm of squirting release that drenched anything in its path like a floodplain swollen by monsoons.

In short, it was a lot of jizz, even for Cinder. She came to, bleary-eyed and breathless, to find Maeryll staring at the mess they'd made together with something close to awe. The torrent of Cinder's sexual outpouring was trickling down in a cascade over the balcony's edge, flowing down the vertical drop in a viscous waterfall. It splashed into the champagne glass pyramid below, filling—then overflowing—glass after glass with the silver-wet seepage of her pussy-surge.

The two elves watched the jizzy waterfall for a few long moments, the only sound the drip-plink-drip of spunk hitting glass. Then another crash of thunder from the storm outside made them both jump. Their eyes met, and the women broke into incredulous laughter.

"Holy cow," Cinder said, careful not to slip in the profusion of filth as she got to her feet, "that was nuts. My nipples feel... my pussy feels... man, I just came so fucking hard."

"Mhm. Did all that work make you a little thirsty, perhaps?"

"You know what? It really did."

They returned to the ballroom floor, and Maeryll masturbated in a chair while she watched Cinder down champagne glass after champagne glass of her own come. It slid down Cinder's throat, settling thick and plentiful in her belly, but no matter how much she drank, Cinder still wanted more. A foggy, fuzzy kind of befuddlement clung to her brain, the kind that usually came from alcohol, although the only thing she'd had was a bit of that champagne earlier. Everything seemed rosy and soft to her eyes and she felt incredible, a being of pure, languid sensuality.

And yet, she thirsted.

Cinder was reaching for another champagne flute filled with spunk when she heard the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall outside the room.

Maeryll sighed and reluctantly lifted her pruney fingers from her pussy. "Rats. I think that's our cue," she said regretfully, then moved to gather up her clothes.

The two elves slipped out of the ballroom through a side door just as the voices became distinct. Cinder couldn't see who was talking, but she lingered on the threshold of their escape long enough to hear a cry of dismay, followed by the incredulous conversation of two people.

"What the... By the Hands and the Hive, what happened here? Did a window break and let in the storm?"

"God be good! I'll... I'll fetch the mop. Maybe more than one?"

Cinder felt a twinge of guilt. They really had kind of made a mess of the place. "Maybe we should go back and help—" she started, but Maeryll sent her a look of such smoldering intensity that Cinder's blood started singing in her veins again and her nipples throbbed.

"Okay, okay! Where to next?"

Part 5: Pub Crawl

The rain fell in drenching sheets upon the two elves as they left Sacred Suds through a side door. It was so thick and heavy that it was difficult to see more than a few gray paces ahead, even for elves. The storm had clearly intensified while the women were occupied by slaking their thirst inside of the bar, and the streets were largely empty save for the most dedicated (or inebriated) partiers.

They passed a few brave souls huddled together under brightly-colored umbrellas or hurrying along the slick cobblestones, hooded cloaks pulled over their heads. Most of the folk of Mansuriyahh appeared to have retreated to the various bars and taverns to continue the revelry. The taverns shone as oases of heat and light in the gray-blue downpour.

Maeryll said she was hungry, so the pair followed their elvish noses towards the rain-muted scent of cooking spices. They passed down narrow lanes and winding alleys lined by tall, intricately-carved buildings of pale sandstone. The structures leaned in close, their eaves nearly touching overhead and providing a small respite from the storm.

Cinder didn't mind the rain. The constant droning kssshhhSHHH of the water was a soothing murmur, and they were already so soaked that a little more liquid wasn't going to make a difference. In fact, the warm, drenching downpour served to wash their sticky skin clean of their earlier activities. Cinder and Maeryll could've been any two Al-Rabea celebrants caught out in the storm.

The elves soon found a market square and bought some skewered meat from the lone vendor still hawking vittles from his lantern-lit cart. They ate the food a few paces away, sheltering underneath the feeble cover of a heavy tarp. Cinder offered the food merchant a cheeky handjob by way of barter for the kebabs, but he seemed to prefer the copper, bee-marked Mansuriyahhn currency Maeryll handed over. It was a shame, because the hot juices of the meat running down her chin were starting to make Cinder feel all restless and fidgety.

Again!? What is with me tonight? I'm like a warg in heat.

"Hey," she turned to Maeryll, speaking around a mouthful of spiced meat. "You notice anything weird with me tonight?"

Maeryll paused, a skewer halfway to her open mouth. "I'm not really sure how you want me to answer that."

Cinder's forehead wrinkled. "It's just that ever since the whole vanishing-oasis thing, I've been feeling extra..." she trailed off, gesturing at her crotch with a vague wave of her kebab, "you know."

"I do," Maeryll dipped her chin, her eyes lowering to fix upon the inadequately wrapped hillocks of Cinder's bosom. Her golden dress was really more of a rag by this point. "Is that a problem?"

The wood elf sighed and took another bite, struggling to explain. "Nah, not really. I just keep seeing this dude—"

"The Barkhiya person you mentioned?"

"Yeah him. I keep thinking he's there, but then he's not." She hesitated, looking for the words to explain it. "Also, I think there's something up with all the bees I keep seeing? Maybe the storm too. I don't know. It's hard to think when I'm this frisky."

Maeryll gestured dismissively with her meat stick. "Pff. Sounds to me like you've got a lot of excess energy to work off. Maybe some pent up stress. You were in the desert for a while."

"That's true, I guess. Argh! All this talking about me being horny has gotten me horny again! Who woulda thought?"

"It's unfathomable," Maeryll deadpanned. "On a related note, do you want something to help wash down all that salty meat?"

Cinder snorted. "Not the first time I've heard that one—ULP!"

She squeaked as Maeryll slid her hand up the front of her dress, and—bold as you please and right in front of the food cart guy no less—snuck a finger right into Cinder's pussy. Maeryll made a beckoning, come hither gesture with that same digit, quite literally leading Cinder by the cunt down a dim alley where the golden light of the street lanterns fought a losing battle with the rainy night's shadows.

"Elves," said the food merchant with a shake of his head, then returned to spicing his meats.

The two women fell on each other in the alley like a pair of libidinous vixens, all nipping teeth and yelps.

"Ow! Watch it, you're gonna leave a hickey!"

"Good!"

The mood quickly turned from playful to raunchy. In no time at all Maeryll was holding a handful of Cinder's hair and pressing her up against the alley wall. The carved sandstone was wonderfully rough against the sensitive flesh of her breasts.

"I need it," Cinder moaned, spreading her legs apart, "shiiiit, I need it so bad!"

"Open wide," Maeryll hissed urgently into Cinder's ear.

"Uh, if I spread my legs anymore I think I might fall over."

"No, you sexy idiot. Open your mouth."

Cinder obliged, and Maeryll forced two insistent fingers past her parted lips. Cinder gasped, sucking as they pressed deep, clutching at Maeryll's wrist, uncertain herself whether or not she was trying to pull them out or force them deeper. Maeryll made her choke on her fingers for a bit until she'd dredged up a bunch of thick, silvery throat slime. Then she used the resulting lube to fit three roughly thrusting fingers into Cinder's asshole.

Maeryll reamed her ferociously into the wall, using all the leverage she could muster until waves of euphoria crashed across the redhead's body. She was taking it, taking it like a good girl, and...

"GnnFFFuuck!" Cinder turned her face towards the sky and howled her climax into the rain. The storm answered with a flash of lightning and a thunderous CRACKooM!

Maeryll dropped to her knees and managed to catch most of the resulting squirt which spewed out of Cinder's convulsing cunt into her cupped hands. Cinder slid down the wall, giddy, and watched her friend slurp up the come from her palms.

"'Kay," Cinder said, pushing the rain-slick hair out of her face and futilely trying to fix one of the straps of her dress. "Your turn."

She fucked Maeryll on all fours in the alley, deftly abraiding the slender elf's clit while she explored the rosebud of her ass with her tongue. Cinder built Maeryll higher and higher until she was panting with need, hair coiled in silver curls in the puddles on the cobbles. The rain washed the sweat from her luminous pale skin and she swayed, throwing herself back against Cinder's fingers and tongue as if desperate for more physical contact.

Cinder grinned in triumph at the sweet sound of her friend's whimpering peak. Afterward, the two elves lay there for a few moments, soaking in the afterglow as the warm rain laved them clean and saturated their clothing.

"Feel any better?"

Cinder shrugged. "Honestly, I could go again."

"Really? Alright, come on. I know a place where we can dry off."

The elves stepped back into the stormy night, and began the joyful, messy business of screwing their way across the City of a Thousand Vices.

Sometimes they chose a bar based on the appealing look of it from the street, the facade inviting or interesting enough to draw their attention. Sometimes they picked the place because Maeryll had heard about it during her time perusing the city's library, and wanted to check it out. Often, they selected at random, an impulse combined with the simple desire to get out of the rain.

In a tavern called the Alehouse of the Unseen a few blocks away from Sacred Suds, Maeryll spent the better part of a frustrating half an hour ordering drink after drink, trying to catch one of the waitstaff in the act of delivering a cocktail. Anything that you ordered—food, drinks, extra napkins, whatever—was delivered silently to your table by unseen attendants.

"It's gotta be ninjas," Cinder hypothesized after the third glass of meade appeared at their table when neither of the elves were looking.

"For the last time," Maeryll grated, "it's not ninjas. I would know."

"Maybe ghosts?"

"Cinder, please try to take this seriously. I need to know how they're doing this."

The two elves racked up such a tab trying to catch the waitstaff that they had to sneak out of the alehouse through a window in a storage room, but not before they fucked each others' brains out on top of some sacks of flour. Maeryll took her frustrations out on Cinder's needy cunt, but the rain washed off the sweat, flour and spunk as they wiggled out of the window and back into the night.

The next spot they chose was a nondescript building with a plain sandstone frontage called the Secret Order. It might've been unassuming from the outside, but inside the atmosphere was lively, with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses filling the air.

Dining and drinking was done communal-style, and special candles were set at intervals on the long tables next to quills and stacks of parchment. To place an order you wrote down what you wanted on the parchment and burned it in the candle. A few minutes later it would coalesce out of the thick clouds of smoke that seemed to hang permanently about the rafters.