Athletic Wench Krystal Jordan Acquires Her Taut Pussy Hammered.

XV Decisions I am still unsure what finally prompted my decision to join the Legion – Vilja will not stop pestering me about it – but I suppose I see it as my best chance to help end a pointless war. I also think that Ulfric Stormcloak is naught but a regicide with his own self-interest in being High King. Furthermore, I detest the way most Nords mistreat other races; ‘Skyrim belongs to the Nords!’ indeed. Once again, do not misunderstand; I am not enamoured with the Empire, either, kneeling as they did to the Aldmeri Dominion and signing the so-called White-Gold Concordat, which forbade the worship of Talos – a sacred figure to the Nords, if no one else. Not to mention how the Dominion’s Thalmor representatives poke their fingers into every pie in Skyrim by sending their ‘advisors’ to virtually every court in the land, and Hardcore presuming to arrest and torture anyone they suspect might be guilty of Talos worship. Thus have I developed an abiding hatred for the Thalmor as great as or more so than what I feel for bandits; and I may tell you the story of how I stormed their embassy and freed a prisoner some time anon. Now is not that time, however. I spent the following few days (was it weeks?) in chaotic activity, moving back and forth across Skyrim, trying to do my duty as a new Legionary soldier as well cumshot as follow up various rumours and solve peoples’ problems. This brought me some fame, I am immodest enow to say, including becoming Thane of several Holds (I have lost count: Whiterun, Falkreath, Haafingar, The Pale, and Markarth, I think). In turn, I acquired the pleasant but time-eating chore to try to build or at least furnish a home in each hold – even if most are homes where no one lives, save a steward, for the nonce. Withal, most relevant to this tale is how I rejoined with Serana – or she with me. I had travelled to Riften for some un-recalled reason, arriving just interracial in time to intervene in a vampire attack upon the citizenry. Whilst we had little trouble despatching the nightstalker and one or two of his thralls – blowjob my chief difficulty lay in trying not to hit guards or citizens who got in the way – when it was over, we babe discovered that Aerin, Mjoll the Lioness’ one-time saviour and purported lover, was a victim. “NNNOOOOoooo!” Glass greatsword clattering to the cobbles, the iron-clad warrior dropped to her knees in the street beside the body; no wounds were apparent, but that was a bad thing. “Why?” she wailed; I did not have to know the lanky fighter well to perceive her anguish. “How could he deserve this?” She suddenly sprang to her feet – quite a graceful move for such a big woman in heavy armour – snatched up her weapon, started hacking apart the enemy bodies. Everyone fled, save Vilja, Aela, and I. Once the street was awash with blood and body parts, she fell once more, this time prostrate over the corpse of her lover. Great, heaving sobs wracked the tall Nord’s gore-splattered frame, though she emitted hardly a sound. After a moment, I gently approached. Fortunately, I knew her well enow – I had retrieved her sword from whence she had lost it in a dwarven ruin and, but for Aerin, nearly died – or I may not have dared. I touched the flared epaulet of her iron breastplate; she probably did not feel it. “Mjoll… Mjoll, I am sorry.” “Leave me,” she intoned dully. “Mjoll, I cannot.” My hand moved from her shoulder to the nape of her neck, left bare with no helm or camail; brushed aside the bloody, straw-coloured pleats. “He… Aerin was bitten… drained of blood. I am sorry, Mjoll. You know what must be done.” I dared rub lightly with the tips of my fingers, having pulled off my gauntlets. She did not respond for another moment. I could see my mother bring her hand to the mouth to cover her titter. They were close to the ocean and the onshore flow followed the steep valley, bringing a cooling breeze even miles inland. And you have my direct. “I just find it so weird being on the other end, to now be the farmer instead of the animal,” Betty lamented with a glass of wine in her hand. I resumed licking her, giving equal amounts of effort to her lips and to her clitoris. interracial “9:30.” she replied, eyes forward. "Uh, hi," Haley said. I brushed her blonde hair from her pale face, and looked adoringly babe upon her freckles, her pointed nose, her pouty lips parted to yield sleeping breaths. Hardcore You are painting," observed our father. “Well, shit, babe, you should. Sandy laughed with excitement and groaned with pleasure, pushing her beautiful ass back to meet my thrusting phallus, raising to her knees to let me squeeze and pinch her hard nipples! My sister Kerry was a spunky and sporty red-headed tomboy. "This sounds like blowjob a big deal," Emily said. He feasted on the young I’m interested to see how often I’m asked to be with any of the wives without Mike…we’ll see… "MMM, I havent seen that cumshot in awhile" I heard him say. Manuela whimpered but then she felt a large jaw breaker pushed into her asshole moving the tootsie rolls deeper.