Primal Desires

A request and follow-up to my previous story featuring this pairing, Wild Temptations.

***

Tyrande neatly folded her clothes upon the bank of the river and then stood up straight, her nude body taut and eyes narrowed as she surveyed her surroundings once more. The sky was crowded with dark clouds painted haphazardly across their canvas, drifting lazily about and obscuring impossible stars and constellations behind. Far beneath them, Ardenweald was engulfed in a mysterious and obfuscating blue fog, making this realm of death seem dreamlike, born from a being only half-awake. Her vision obscured, she could just make out the shadowy canopies of trees in the far distance, their leafy tops blowing in the wind and moving as if alive against the background sky. Jutting up from the ground and towering over these smaller trees were humongous Dream Trees that emanated light, smeared by the prevailing mist and appearing as mushroom-like lighthouses in the distance.

Her nearby surroundings were much more discernible: a waterfall flowed not far from her, rolling down steps of rock, white and frothing as it pooled below into a river that flowed well beyond her. Its surface was like a black mirror, reflecting the sky above and her naked body as she stood above it. Sparse croppings of trees hugged the river, but most of the area was flat and bare, covered in dirt and a lush layer of damp grass, springy underfoot. Further down the river a deer indulged itself, occasionally glancing up at her before returning to it's drink.

Tyrande eyed the nearby vegetation with distrust, eyes so severe it seemed as if she was seeking to set trees and bushes alike aflame with her gaze. She inspected each crevice, every shadow, and, finding only rabbits and other such critters, eased her anxiety. Washcloth in hand, she at last slipped into the gentle river. Its waters were surprisingly warm, and within a minute her mood had improved greatly. Sighing, she allowed the river to relax both her body and mind, stepping forward once, twice, and then a third time until the water was at its highest, though it barely reached her navel. Closing her eyes, she sighed again, running the now wet washcloth over herself, more so to enjoy the feeling of it teasing her skin than to facilitate the cleaning of her body.

That familiar tingling sensation blossomed in her loins, yearning for more and urging her to continue, to work further downwards until the washcloth and its purpose was a side note as she cupped at her mound and began the task of pleasuring herself. Though she knew not why, she had been incredibly horny lately, and her tryst with the worgen adventurer hadn't helped quell such desires. If anything her romp with the well endowed beast had only made her more heated and hungry for cock. With her mind unintentionally wandering towards him, she thought of him as she rubbed herself within the warm waters, recalling with vivid certainty how he took her, stretched her, and even how he tasted. Closing her eyes and licking her lips, she pondered the idea of visiting him again after cleaning up, the very real memory of his towering body pumping into her whilst she lay on her back reflected in her mind's eye. Something she vaguely recognized as guilt tugged at the recesses of her mind, but it was easily dismissible. Nothing seemed quite real anyways in this dreamy subsidiary of the Shadowlands.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a pair of large, powerful arms wrapping around her. Instinctively and without a word uttered, a protective cantrip activated immediately. It enshrined her body with a glow even as she whirled in her assailant's arms, ready to strike them down with a measure of Elune's wrath. Half-turning, she vaguely registered the arms holding her as hairy before her eyes met those of her apparent attacker, eyes growing wide and then narrowing back down into an angry squint.

It was Garin, and, as she now came to notice, his hands were groping her breasts.

Though distant, the tumbling roar of the waterfall had masked his presence, subduing his footsteps into silence and allowing him to sneak up on her. She scolded herself for not realizing this possibility sooner. She was not one to be caught unawares, but her treacherous thoughts, combined with the droning of water, had distracted her. While the worgen wasn't a threat, it could have just as well been a minion of the Jailer sneaking up on her instead, blade in hand and ready to plunge it into her back.

"You would be wise not to skulk about and sneak up on a Priestess of the Moon," Tyrande hissed, a flash of danger in her voice. Her steely voice matched her eyes. She was more angry at her own foolishness than she was at him, but she lashed out at him regardless.

"You're right, I should have known better," he said, voice rumbling like the nearby waterfall. "My apologies."

His apology seemed genuine, so she made an effort to temper her anger, though she couldn't help but remain annoyed at herself. It was not a mistake someone her age should be making.

"I'm trying to bathe."

"Is that what that was?"

Resolving to ignore his presence, she returned to her bathing only for him to pull closer to her. Annoyed and turning to face him, she was met with his hand extended palm up, canine face innocent as he gazed down at her.

"Do you wish to be my handmaiden?" she asked with a mocking laugh, then shrugged after a moment of thought. "You may clean my back if you wish it." Handing him the washcloth, she turned around and displayed her back to him, large tits partially visible even from behind.

Garin assumed his new duty, running the little white towel over Tyrande's taut shoulders and back. He brushed water over her toned muscles, making them gleam enticingly, though what most drew his eyes were the purple melons peeking out from either side of her. Unable to resist, his duties soon became an afterthought as his hands drifted towards the front of her body, cupping her breasts and filling his hands with them. Squeezing them tight and catching her ire, Tyrande shook his hands off of her.

Temporarily repelled, he returned to washing her back, doing a surprisingly diligent job despite reaching at times further below her waist than need-be. Once he felt that he had properly fulfilled his duty, however, his hands once again returned to her breasts, latching onto them like a curious child. Feeling like two bulky weights, they seemed barely capable of fitting in his large hands, and he took to kneading them until Tyrande sighed a sigh that seemed more amused than outright annoyed.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked, turning around to face him. Drops of water clung to her ample bosom, causing him to lick his lips as one of them slid down to her nipple.

"Of course, it's an honor to be your handmaiden," he replied, not altogether joking.

Tyrande snorted an airy laugh and then pushed her chest out towards him. "Fine then, resume your duties."

Washcloth in hand, he reached forward to do as she commanded, but was stopped with a shake of the head and a hand against his chest. "Tongue only," she said, a devious half-smile on her lips.

He matched her smile with a wide grin, tossing the washcloth onto the nearby river rocks lining the bank and bending at the knees so that he could give her a proper tongue bath. Beginning at her navel, Garin licked all the way up from Tyrande's soft abs to her luscious tits, lifting the hefty little mountains with his tongue and slithering it underneath them. Moaning softly, she pet at his head and pushed her chest further against him, delighting in the special attention he was giving to her erect nipples. As he pleasured her, laboriously slathering her heavy breasts with saliva, his hands sought something extra beneath the river's dark waters; they found their target easily, embracing the Kal'dorei matriarch's plump booty with a squeeze while he continued to lap at and clean her breasts with his tongue.

Tyrande's hands were on the move as well, searching the space between the two and coming to grasp at the worgen's manhood. Already hard as rock, its tip peeked out from beneath the water like a mighty sea monster. Her smile grew wider, and she caressed it with both hands while her patience slowly lost out to her rapacious appetite for cock. Their eyes met, and without a word the two of them both understood what each other wanted. The tongue bath stopped, leaving her heavy tits awash with saliva, and his hands ceased the squeezing of her ass cheeks.

Without warning, he picked her up beneath the legs and she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling close and holding on tight. His dark coat of fur tickled at her skin, but what made her bite her lip in anticipation was the feeling of his manhood bumping against her as he situated himself. Once he was comfortable, he aligned his tool with her quim and buried himself deep within her.

Tyrande made an unseemly noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan as her pussy was packed to the brim full of worgen dick, stretched beyond belief and feeling just as amazing as she did the last time he entered her. Her hands pulled at his fur, unintentionally ripping out loose strands of hair and scratching at his back. If Garin felt pain, however, it seemed as if it was a largely insignificant sensation compared to the purple pussy desperately squeezing around his cock, for he ignored it and began his conquest in earnest. A second helping of dick had her melting against him, and she let out a long, husky moan as her hairy lover jounced her fit body against his, easily directing her up and down with his strong arms.

He fucked her without pause, bouncing her on his dick and treating her amazonian body like a sleeve for his cock. The intensity at which he fucked her and the difference in their size made it seem almost brutal in a sense, yet Tyrande loved every second of it; moaning hysterically, her joyous shouts pierced the silent veil of the Ardenweald wilds, and as if her voice dispersed the very clouds themselves, a god ray beamed down upon their location, highlighting their passionate mating for the nearby creatures of the forest. Suddenly growing conscientious, Tyrande pivoted her head left and right, inspecting the nearby terrain and finding nothing but the deer from earlier. It had quenched it's thirst and was grazing underneath a tree a mere furlong away, seeming either oblivious to their presence, or simply uncaring.

Satisfied that they weren't being watched, Tyrande allowed her mind to slip away, the constant beating of the worgen's cock into her pussy driving her to a quick, brain scrambling climax. Wide eyed with her legs shaking in his grasp, she vaguely felt the wetness of his tongue across her face, turning up her upper lip as it passed over it. As her head returned from the clouds, he licked her again, and this time she opened her mouth, accepting the odd yet brief kiss from her canine lover while he continued to abuse her pussy in the best way possible with deep strokes that shook her to the core.

Minutes ticked by, yet his pace never changed, his towering body a shifting mass of muscle and dark fur as he ravaged her. Their aggressive love-making caused the river water to splash up and onto them, mixing with the sweat issuing from her pores and clinging to her lavender colored skin. A muscular warrior in her own right, Tyrande's body flexed and contracted, nerves alight with the sensations brought about by Garin's plundering manhood; and just when she thought it couldn't get any better, he held her body tightly beneath his claws and, rather than bouncing her atop him, began to piston himself in and out of her. Her moans grew louder, almost high pitched while his beastly grunts came out like a steam engine, huffing and snarling as he claimed her snug elven pussy, bumping his cockhead over and over against her slick cervix.

Her wits rolled around in her head like marbles while he pummeled her, hands holding on for dear life and her saliva-slickened breasts flailing wildly. Each thrust of the worgen's wonderful cock brought her closer and closer to the next orgasm, and at the rate he was pumping her it didn't take long: with a pitiful wail, she threw her head back and succumbed to the pleasure overloading her body, pussy gushing around the cock mercilessly pounding it even as she orgasmed. Exposed as it was, his jaws gently enclosed around her neck, prickling her skin and claiming her in a way that was connected and yet entirely different to how he claimed her pussy. This seemed to extend her orgasm, for her fading moan broke off and extended into a keening mewl, her body shaking and quivering in his arms.

At last he slowed, letting go of her neck and gradually coming to a stop. Tyrande, whose green hair was disheveled and matted by sweat to her brow, grinned stupidly, huffiing down air and appreciating the break. Face to face, he darted out his tongue, and this time she accepted it into her mouth without hesitation, awkwardly but enthusiastically making out with the worgen while his hands maneuvered to her booty, squeezing her plump cheeks. While his tongue explored her mouth, he strode out of the river and onto dry land, finding a cushiony patch of grass to set her down upon.

"Your turn to clean me," he rumbled with a lick of his lips.

Tyrande looked up at him, panting for a few seconds and catching her breath before nodding and sinking to her knees. Licking her lips in anticipation of her meal, she wrapped her hands firmly around his member, one atop the other, and then began stroking it up and down. It was slick with their combined juices and her hands worked its length with quick jerking movements, her face inches away and hovering closer and closer like a moth to a flame. A few more long strokes to his glistening red rod and she moved her hands to his balls, massaging them while her full lips encircled his tip. Easing forward, she demonstrated her ten-thousand years of dick sucking experience by devouring his member, taking nearly his entire length into her gullet before beginning to enthusiastically fellate him, easily bobbing her head back and forth along his cock. This was only her second time tasting worgen meat, and her hunger for it was apparent: she sucked him with a speedy fervor, fast, but not so fast that she couldn't appreciate his flavor, and her loud slurping, intermixed with pleased murmurs proving that she would want a third taste in the future, overshadowed the muffled roar of the distant waterfall.

Her tongue was playful beneath the underside of Garin's cock, wiggling and waggling, extracting as much of his masculine flavor as possible while her mouth polished his shaft. She worshipped his cock like an idol, praying for his release and the creamy blessing that it would bestow upon her. So great were her efforts that her tits jiggled like leaves in the gentle wind. She took no breaks or gasps for air, and the only time her lips left his cock was when they traded places with her hands, kissing, sucking and coating his heavy balls with saliva before finally returning to slobber at his tool.

Garin was surprised not by her enthusiasm, but by how much she had improved compared to the previous night. This Priestess of the Moon and Queen of the Night Elves sucked his dick like a succubus struggling to drain the soul from his body, and, try as he might, he could not hold on for long: with a beastly growl, he grabbed her by the head and pulled her off of him, his other hand stroking himself to release onto her face. She opened her mouth to catch his seed, but he was not aiming for her mouth; his objective was the rest of her face, and he pelted her features with a blizzard of snowy white cum. Thick and viscous, it splattered and caked her face in a multitude of sticky layers, hiding her purple skin and dripping from her long eyebrows. Dumbfounded, Tyrande closed her eyes and swallowed what landed in her mouth, audibly gulping down the small load that had unintentionally landed upon her outstretched tongue.

When he was finished, he used the tip of his tool to scoop some cum off of her cheek and then brought it to her still-open mouth. Instinctively, Tyrande closed her lips around him and sucked his head clean, leaving the rest of his shaft coated in juices, but feasting upon the salty morsel before pulling away. Using both hands to wipe her eyes clean, she tentatively opened them, looking none too happy about her sticky situation.

"You certainly are an animal," she scowled, wiping off more of his seed and flinging it onto the ground.

"Couldn't help myself," he replied, already easing her onto her hands and knees. The impending dicking she was going to receive helped quell her anger, and she rolled onto all fours without issue. Her facial expression changed to that of a deep yearning, her eyes bright with desire, and she shook her behind back against him as if to emphasize this.

Garin's desire was just as great as hers, and his hands briefly grabbed at her meaty ass, squeezing and spreading her cheeks so that he could more easily sloppily lap and lick at her proffered holes. Perhaps she should have expected something when he tongued at her asshole, but her eyes widened in surprise when he finally directed his threatening cock to her puckered entrance. He poked at it, knocking on her backdoor but not quite entering. Tyrande was no stranger to anal sex, but she couldn't help but feel a tad bit intimidated as she felt the worgen's tip pressing and pushing against her rosebud. She considered objecting but instead opted to remain silent, feeling an odd thrill at the idea of getting ass-fucked by the worgen adventurer.

Taking her silence as permission, he held onto one plump cheek for support while his other hand guided his length inside of her, breaching her sphincter with his pulsing red obelisk. Already amazed at how big he felt inside her, she threw her head back and gasped for air before ducking her head, body going taut and her breathing slowing. It felt like she would break or come apart if she moved, and from behind her she could hear Garin's pleased growls, voice like a cat's purr as he began his entry.

The worgen pushed forward into her, slowly feeding his girthy manhood past her sphincter and into her bowels. Thankfully, this time his penetration was considerate; he gave her time to acclimate to his size, taking what seemed like a minute to fit his entire length into her trembling booty, and then another minute more before he began to move again. Caressing her plump lavender cheeks like a concerned lover, his thrusts began with a languid carefulness, gradually working her at a measured pace until at last soft moans of pleasure began to emanate from her lips. To Garin this was his go-ahead to increase the speed at which he fucked her. Moving both hands to her wide hips, he gradually and no less considerately began to quicken his pace, rising in tempo until his furry hips were thumping against her big ass, creating tall waves along her thick cheeks.

With every passing minute her pleasure grew and grew, increasing in time with Garin's thrusts. Raising her head, she eyed the deer from earlier, grazing in the same spot as it had been, disinterested in her adulterous coupling and oblivious to the sinful pleasures rocking her body. As if to prove this, it caught her eye, lazily chewing on a tuft of green grass and then looking away in search of it's next meal.

You don't know what you're missing, she thought, and then grinned, amused as another slab of cock beat its way into her ass.

By this point his thrusts were a far cry away from the slow and considerate strokes of minutes prior; he worked her body to its limit, stretching her little hole around his fat cock, huffing and grunting crazily while his tongue lolled out of his mouth and dripped rivulets of saliva onto her muscled back. It was without a doubt the hardest and most fantastic dicking she had ever received, and in this moment it seemed likely to her that even in this eternal realm of death and rebirth no one had ever received quite a pounding such as this. It was profane and perverse, but she couldn't help but relish it, crying out in unrestrained satisfaction.