Shadow and Shade

Domingo quickly regained some of his senses. The faces that the beautiful Helga was making under his touch were absolutely marvellous, urging him on, harder, faster. He began to move with more force, Helga's eyes and mouth opening wider as his thrusts became more impassioned and powerful. He began to slap his hips off of her snow white pelvis, sending ripples all along her perfect body. Her breasts bounced in unison with the thrusts, electrifying the whole atmosphere. Helga made a valiant effort at staying quiet, but ultimately gave up, letting out a thunderous moan of pleasure as Domingo continued to fuck her. She wrapped her arms around him, begging him to keep going.

Domingo had absolutely no intentions of stopping. He quickened his pace, slapping his balls off of her lily white flesh, shoving every inch of his body into her again and again. Helga could only moan and scream, shouting his name as he fucked his way through Helga's orgasm. He felt her body twitch and tighten on him as he continued to thrust away. He smiled, glad that such a magnificent entity should be brought such pleasure by his body. She let out a little high pitched squeal as her back arched. She dug her nails into his back, digging almost deep enough to draw blood as she raked them along his back. There would be some interesting red marks on his back in the morning, but that only urged the young thief on harder. He moved as a man possessed, treating the beautiful young girl below him violently, in precisely the way she hoped he would.

The rogue knew that he was nearing his limit, and he remembered the conversation that he and the lovely lady on her back had had not ten minutes ago. "My dear," he panted through gritted teeth. "It would appear that I will soon be unleashing another amount of seed." He smiled at her sarcastically, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. Helga attempted to reply, but a guttural moan was all that she could muster, the power of speech still being robbed from her by the force of Domingo's vigorous love making. By way of answer she cupped his buttocks with her hands, hitched her knees up and locked his body in position with her legs. She had no intention of letting a single drop escape from her. Domingo smiled. "As you wish, my dear."

Domingo thrust yet harder and harder, pushing his fullness deep into the warm embrace of the womanhood of the witch Helga. She cried out, desperately driving her nails deep into the flesh of the man who was treating her so well. With a final forceful shove, his thickness was pressed against as much of her as he could muster. She squealed deliciously as she felt him tense up, his balls rising and his mouth opening as he unleashed another assault on her body, erupting violently as a volcano into her sweet warmth. She let out a muffled squeal as he flooded her thirsty body with sticky, thick, white semen. He clutched her as she tightened her grip on him, refusing him any opportunity to withdraw. Not one drop was going to end up outside of her this night. Domingo howled like an animal as the final pulse shot one last potent stream straight into the witch, and then collapsed on top of her. He lay there, panting, unable and unwilling to move.

The dawn broke unexpectedly and Domingo awoke in a strange bed, in a strange house. He scratched his head as he stood up and looked about him. He began to regain memories of his daring theft, spectacular escape and unbelievable encounter with a hermit sorceress. He glanced around, trying to catch sight of Helga, but she was nowhere to be seen. On the table was a bowl of porridge, still steaming. She couldn't have left more than a few minutes ago. He slowly made his way over to the table and sat down. He picked up the spoon and only then did he notice the piece of parchment underneath it. He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately his curiosity got the better of him.

Domingo,

Thank you for the most wonderful night. I'm sorry that I can't be there this morning, but magic of the calibre I intend to perform must be handled very swiftly. I do not know if our paths should cross again in future, but rest assured I will tell our daughter of the gallant young thief who came in the night and gave me the most beautiful gift in all the world. Try to follow me if you desire, but I do not expect you to.

Again, thank you.

Helga.

Domingo stared at the page and found himself completely caught off guard, once again. The witch had managed to get the drop on him once again. He sat and thought, uncertain how to proceed. He could chase after her, but he had no intention of being a father. It had only been one night, by the Gods, he wasn't the type to run after any lonesome wench who'd warmed his bed. Lords above, there must have been half a dozen bastards with his blood in them from Salfaar to the Frost Gardens at least. Yet there was something different about Helga. Something intriguing, something enticing. A sorceress was valuable, even a hermit one. And Domingo had never been one to allow anything of value slip between his fingers. He took a few minutes to have his hearty breakfast, before he grabbed his pack. It wasn't hard to track which direction the witch had travelled in. He was going to enjoy this particular little game. That pretty little sorceress was as good as his. With a grin, Domingo shot off into the morning.