Witch of the Wilds

I can only imagine the beautiful scene that any of our companions could have walked out to: My hands gripping Morrigan's thighs, her beautiful ass resting on my face, her fingers pinching her own nipples, her face contorted in ecstasy as her cunt was eaten by her loyal pet, her pale skin lit by the nearby fire as we were consumed in our passion.

It didn't take long for Morrigan to approach her own orgasm. Perhaps she wasn't the only one skilled in this particular type of magic. She didn't announce that she was going to cum, but I knew it in the way she tensed, the way her hips grinded down harder on my face, how I could hear her breathing getting shallower and her moans getting more frequent. I even heard my name leave her lips, and that made me want to cum again myself, but I focused all my efforts into helping my mistress finish.

As she came, I heard a most un-Morrigan-like whimper escape her, and her whole body shuddered, as her pussy gushed all over my waiting face. I was more than happy to receive her cum—I was happy to be bathed completely in the essence of her.

"Oh, that was lovely, pet. I do thank you," Morrigan whispered, collapsing in a heap next to me, still catching her breath.

"I agree. I am quite satisfied that you truly live up to the name Witch of the Wilds," I told her.

"Yes, well, whatever the legends say about my lovemaking, I do hope I live up to it." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, evidently exhausted.

"Love, nothing could have prepared me for how wonderful that was," I told her truthfully.

"I am glad," she said earnestly, then seemed to hesitate before continuing. "I am glad that... I could make you feel as good as you always make me."

"Shall we retire to my tent before you go completely soft on me?" I teased her.

"Normally I'd tell you to sod off but I am far too tired and I do approve of that idea." Morrigan stifled a yawn.

We retreated to my tent and held each other until the morning came. We still do not know for certain whether our compatriots truly slept through our extended declaration of love or if they merely stayed in their own tents to be polite, but judging by the blush on their faces as they stared at our clasped hands and their avoidance of a certain suspicious puddle on the ground next to the fire, we have our guesses.