Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}afterandalasiaJuly 16 2011, 17:20:22 UTC
He tugs his robe up, then her skirt, bundling the fabric aside to expose the curves of her ass, her thighs. She groans as he enters her, fingers spreading her entrance to read it for his prick, and he guesses that the anticipation ached in her cunt as much as in his cock. The gypsy braces herself against the wall, hands flat, as he fucks her from behind, gasps and muffled grunts leaving his lips. His hands creep round to squeeze her breasts again, reaching beneath the loose fabric of her top to pinch and twist at her hardnened nipples, feeling the weight of her flesh fill his palms.
"Is this how you win, gypsy?" he hisses in her ear. "Is this how you claim men?"
"My name," she says, her voice broken by panting as he feels her bucking under him. "Is Esmeralda."
As she speaks she reaches her climax, biting her lip to muffle the cry that she would give as he feels a rush of hot wet around his cock, the clenching of her muscles. He grabs a handful of her hair, feeling it beneath his fingers, and once again holds it to his face to inhale deeply as he comes inside her, feeling the wet heat of their mingled juices.
The bells ring on as, panting, they draw apart. Frollo backs away, smoothing down his robes, as the gypsy girl turns so that her back is against the wall. She laughs in a low tone, tossing her head of black curls, then walks back up to him and wraps her hand around the back of his neck. It smarts on the scratches she has left there, and Frollo winces before he realises that she is running her hand around to the front instead, cupping his throat.
"I'll see you in hell, Judge Frollo," she hisses, but lust is still in her gaze and he can imagine his semen smeared on her thighs.
"That means we'll both be there, Esmeralda he replies, and her name tastes like honey and poison on his tongue.
She whirls and runs into the cathedral, the bells on her skirt tingling, bare feet almost silent. For the briefest moment, he wonders whether she wears the same smile as he does, then he turns to leave himself.
Let her have her sanctuary. It will not last long.
Re: Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}little_elfieJuly 16 2011, 22:37:27 UTC
Thank you so much for this! I've been waiting for someone to fill this for ages - and I just hoped it would be you! Brilliant fill, loved every word of it! :D
Re: Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}afterandalasiaJuly 16 2011, 22:57:17 UTC
There is not enough Fresme, like, in the world. I was waiting to see if someone else would fill it as well, but hey, if you want it then sometimes you have to write it! XD I'm glad that you liked it!
Re: Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}afterandalasiaMay 7 2018, 17:52:02 UTC
Just wanted to say that I really miss your Fresme writing. Such a hot pairing, and you definitely do it justice. Are you planning to write more of it? I don’t want to put pressure on you, of course, but I’m hoping for more.
"Is this how you win, gypsy?" he hisses in her ear. "Is this how you claim men?"
"My name," she says, her voice broken by panting as he feels her bucking under him. "Is Esmeralda."
As she speaks she reaches her climax, biting her lip to muffle the cry that she would give as he feels a rush of hot wet around his cock, the clenching of her muscles. He grabs a handful of her hair, feeling it beneath his fingers, and once again holds it to his face to inhale deeply as he comes inside her, feeling the wet heat of their mingled juices.
The bells ring on as, panting, they draw apart. Frollo backs away, smoothing down his robes, as the gypsy girl turns so that her back is against the wall. She laughs in a low tone, tossing her head of black curls, then walks back up to him and wraps her hand around the back of his neck. It smarts on the scratches she has left there, and Frollo winces before he realises that she is running her hand around to the front instead, cupping his throat.
"I'll see you in hell, Judge Frollo," she hisses, but lust is still in her gaze and he can imagine his semen smeared on her thighs.
"That means we'll both be there, Esmeralda he replies, and her name tastes like honey and poison on his tongue.
She whirls and runs into the cathedral, the bells on her skirt tingling, bare feet almost silent. For the briefest moment, he wonders whether she wears the same smile as he does, then he turns to leave himself.
Let her have her sanctuary. It will not last long.
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