I stood completely naked in Willow’s room with my clothes scattered across the floor in a chaotic trail that documented our journey from door to bed, each discarded garment a breadcrumb marking the path of escalating urgency that brought us to this moment.
The air itself felt charged with something electric and viscous, thick enough to taste on my tongue—a mixture of pheromones, magical energy, and pure concentrated desire that made every breath feel like swallowing honey mixed with lightning.
My skin prickled with an awareness so acute it bordered on painful, every nerve ending standing at attention and reporting directly to the part of my brain responsible for making spectacularly poor decisions in the name of pleasure.
Heat radiated from my core outward in waves that made my flesh feel hypersensitive, transforming the simple act of existing in my own body into something intensely erotic.
My cock hung between my legs in a state of interested anticipation, not quite hard yet but definitely paying attention, blood beginning to flow southward in response to visual stimuli and the charged atmosphere pressing against every exposed inch of skin.
I could feel my pulse in it—a steady throb that grew more insistent with each passing second, each beat sending fresh arousal spiraling through my nervous system like sparks traveling along copper wire.
My balls felt heavy and full, already aching with the promise of release that seemed simultaneously imminent and frustratingly distant.
The temperature of the room was perfect—warm enough to keep the underground chill at bay but cool enough that my heated skin welcomed the contrast, creating this delicious tension between internal fire and external air.
Willow stood directly in front of me with hunger blazing in her emerald eyes. Her wicked smirk carved across her face in a expression that promised absolutely filthy things, the kind of smile that made sensible people reconsider their life choices while simultaneously moving closer because danger and desire were uncomfortably intertwined in the human psyche.
Willow was naked now—gloriously, devastatingly naked—and my brain temporarily forgot how to process visual information beyond the basics of "curves" and "skin" and "holy fucking saints."
She clasped her hands together in front of her chest with pure delight written across every feature, the gesture almost innocent if you ignored literally everything else about the situation.
She spun on her heel with balletic grace, her body rotating in smooth arcs that made the ambient light slide across her skin in hypnotic patterns, before she began bouncing around me in a circle that brought her impossibly close without quite making contact.
Her fingers trailed across my shoulders as she passed behind me, nails scratching lightly enough to raise goosebumps but not hard enough to hurt. The touch sent electricity racing down my spine, pooling in my lower back before spreading outward in waves that made my cock twitch with interest.
She moved to my left side, her breath ghosting across my ear as she leaned in close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her body.
"Look at you," she purred, her voice dropping into registers that vibrated in my chest cavity. "Already trembling and I’ve barely touched you. This is going to be so much fun."
Her hand slid down my arm in a feather-light caress that made every hair stand on end, tracking from shoulder to elbow to wrist before her fingers interlaced briefly with mine and then pulled away, leaving me aching for more contact.
She circled around to my back again, pressing her breasts against my spine for just a heartbeat—long enough for me to feel her hard nipples against my skin, short enough that the loss of contact felt like punishment.
Her hands traced across my shoulder blades, down the curve of my spine, fingertips dancing across each vertebra like she was playing my body as an instrument and knew exactly which notes to hit.
When she reached the small of my back, her nails dragged upward with enough pressure to leave red trails in their wake, the sharp sensation mixing pain and pleasure in ways that made my knees threaten to buckle.
My arousal built with each teasing touch, my cock filling with blood in incremental stages that transformed it from interested to half-hard to achingly erect over the course of her circling predation.
My breathing grew ragged, uneven, each inhale bringing her scent into my lungs—vanilla, spice, and something uniquely succubus that made my hindbrain scream of mating and surrender.
She came around to my right side then, her tail—which I’d completely forgotten about until this exact moment—sliding up the inside of my thigh with deliberate slowness.
The appendage, long and flexible, tipped with a heart-shaped spade, traced patterns across my sensitive skin, teasing closer and closer to where I desperately wanted contact without quite getting there.
The texture was smooth and slightly warm, gliding across my flesh with the perfect amount of pressure to drive me absolutely insane. When the tip brushed against my balls I couldn’t suppress the whine that escaped my throat—a high, needy sound that betrayed exactly how wound up I already was.
Willow giggled with wicked delight at that involuntary noise, the sound bright, musical, and absolutely merciless.
"Already whining for me?" She cooed, "We haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet. You’re going to be an absolute mess by the time I’m done with you."
She completed her circuit and stood directly in front of me again, our bodies separated by maybe six inches of superheated air. Then, without warning or ceremony, she dropped to her knees with fluid grace.
My cock bobbed in front of her face at perfect eye level, fully hard now and leaking pre-cum from the tip in steady clear drops that caught the light.
I watched with fascination so intense it approached religious experience as Willow’s tongue rolled out of her mouth—and kept rolling, and rolling, extending to an impossible length that defied every assumption I’d made about anatomy and physics.
The thing was easily ten inches long when fully extended, maybe more, wine-dark like the rest of her but glistening with saliva that made it look slick and obscene.
It was prehensile too, moving with conscious direction rather than the limited flexibility of human tongues, curling and undulating like a separate living creature that happened to be attached to her face.
She brought that magnificent appendage to the base of my cock and began working upward with agonizing slowness, the wet heat of her tongue dragging across sensitive skin in a path that made my entire body jerk with pleasure.
The texture was perfect—not rough but not completely smooth either, some middle ground that provided just enough friction to make every nerve sing.
She took her time, savoring each inch like it was a delicacy meant to be appreciated rather than consumed, making small pleased sounds in her throat that vibrated against my flesh.
When she reached the head she paused, letting her tongue swirl around the crown in spiraling patterns that traced every ridge and valley, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just beneath where the head met the shaft.
Pre-cum leaked steadily now, mixing with her saliva to create a slippery mess that she spread across my cock with deliberate thoroughness.
The sensation was overwhelming—too much and not enough simultaneously, pleasure so intense it bordered on painful, making my hips twitch forward in search of more contact.
"Please," I gasped, my voice coming out strangled and desperate. "Willow, I—fuck—you can’t just—"
"Can’t just what?" She pulled back slightly, her tongue retreating enough that she could speak. "Take my time? Enjoy myself? Make you beg?" Her emerald eyes locked onto mine with predatory focus. "Oh, I absolutely can. And I am."
She dove back in then, her mouth opening wider to take the head inside, lips sealing around the corona while her impossibly long tongue wrapped around the shaft like a serpent coiling around prey.
The wet heat was indescribable—slick, tight, and perfect—her cheeks hollowing as she sucked with just enough pressure to make stars explode behind my eyelids. She took me deeper, inch by torturous inch, until I could feel the back of her throat kissing my tip.
Then she swallowed.
The convulsive motion of her throat muscles gripping and releasing sent a sensation through me so intense I actually cried out, my hands flying to her head to tangle in her wine-dark hair.
She held me there for a long moment—three heartbeats, four, five—my cock pulsing in the confines of her throat, her nose pressed against my pelvis, saliva dripping down her chin and onto her breasts in glistening strings.
Then she pulled back slowly, her tongue unwinding from around my shaft and sliding across every sensitive surface on the journey up and out.
When only the head remained in her mouth she sucked hard—devastatingly hard—before releasing with a wet pop that echoed obscenely in the quiet room.
She repeated this pattern over and over. Deep, throat-constricting swallows followed by slow withdrawal, building a rhythm that had my thighs trembling and my breath coming in ragged gasps that couldn’t quite fill my lungs.
My emotions were a chaotic storm—pleasure, desperation, and mounting urgency all crashing together into something that felt dangerously close to religious transcendence.
Every nerve in my body seemed connected directly to my cock, feeding sensation back in loops that intensified with each passing second. My balls drew up tight against my body, that telltale tightening that signaled impending release, pressure building at the base of my spine like water behind a dam.
"Close," I managed to choke out, the word barely comprehensible through the haze of sensation. "Willow, I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—"
She pulled back then, slowly and deliberately, until just the tip remained between her lips. Her tongue—that magnificent, impossible tongue—flicked out to tease the underside of my cock right at that exquisitely sensitive spot where the head met the shaft, the pressure light, precise, and absolutely catastrophic to my remaining self-control.
I came with a sharp cry that probably woke half the theater, my entire body going rigid as my orgasm crashed through me with the force of a tidal wave.
My cock pulsed violently, spurting thick ropes of cum directly into Willow’s waiting mouth—one, two, three heavy shots that filled her throat before she pulled back slightly to let the rest coat her tongue.
The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure so intense it whited out thought, reducing me to nothing but a collection of nerve endings firing in perfect synchronized ecstasy.
More cum kept coming—four, five, six spurts that seemed to go on forever, my balls contracting with each pulse, seed flooding her mouth in quantities that should’ve been physically impossible given how recently I’d last orgasmed.
Willow swallowed it all down with obvious delight, her throat working to take every drop, emerald eyes never leaving mine as she drank me like fine wine.
When my cock finally stopped pulsing she pulled back completely, opening her mouth to show me her tongue—still coated in thick white streaks of my cum—before closing her lips and swallowing one final time. Then she opened again, clean now except for her own saliva, that wicked smirk returning full force.
My legs threatened to give out entirely, knees wobbling as post-orgasmic weakness flooded my muscles. My breath ghosted through the air in clouds, chest heaving as I struggled to remember how breathing worked when my brain was still rebooting from the overload of pleasure.
I could feel sweat cooling on my skin, making me shiver despite the room’s warmth, while my cock began the slow descent from full hardness to something more manageable.
Willow stood up with feline grace, stretching her arms above her head in a motion that lifted her small breasts and made her spine arch in ways that should’ve be illegal.
The stretch pulled her skin taut across her ribs, highlighting the gentle definition of muscle beneath her flesh, making her entire body into a display of erotic artwork designed specifically to restart my arousal.
Her head tilted back, exposing the long line of her throat, lips parting on a satisfied sigh that made sound into something visual and tactile.
My cock, traitor that it was, immediately began filling again despite having literally just emptied itself. Blood rushed back southward with renewed purpose, bringing me from soft, to half-hard, to achingly erect in the span of maybe thirty seconds. Apparently my refractory period had decided to take a vacation, probably intimidated by Willow’s sheer presence.
She turned away then, presenting me with the view of her back—the graceful slope of her spine, the dimples above her ass, the way her waist curved inward before flaring out into those devastating hips.
She walked toward her bed with deliberate slowness, putting conscious effort into each step to make her hips sway in hypnotic patterns.
Her ass moved in ways that defied physics—each cheek rising and falling independently, the motion liquid and mesmerizing, drawing my gaze with gravitational force I couldn’t have resisted even if I wanted to.
I tried to form words—literally anything coherent—but my mouth had apparently forgotten its primary function beyond making embarrassing noises.
A sudden wave of pleasure hit me then, rolling through my body like warm honey, making my already hard cock twitch and leak fresh pre-cum.
The sensation was familiar, recognizable—Willow was using her arousal spell, flooding the room with magical energy designed to amplify existing desire into something approaching madness.
She settled into her bed with movements that managed to be both relaxed and deeply suggestive, propping herself up on one elbow while her other hand trailed across her hip in idle patterns. She gestured at me with a little wiggle of her fingers, the motion playful and commanding in equal measure.
I obeyed without question or conscious decision, crawling up onto the bed with movements that felt simultaneously graceful and desperate. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, sheets bunching around my knees as I positioned myself between her legs. Willow spread them wide then—completely open, shameless—and I got my first proper look at her pussy.
It was gorgeous. Devastatingly, impossibly gorgeous. The lips were wine-dark like the rest of her, slightly swollen and glistening with arousal. A cute little patch of carefully trimmed hair crowned the top of her mound, just dark enough to provide contrast against her skin.
The whole thing seemed to pulse and breathe with each beat of her heart, small movements that made it look alive in ways that went beyond biological fact into something approaching magical.
Heat radiated from her core in waves I could feel against my face even from inches away, the scent of her arousal thick and intoxicating—musk, salt, and something sweet that made my mouth water with unfiltered desire.
Willow’s gaze tracked downward to my cock then—still achingly hard, twitching with need, leaking pre-cum in steady streams.
Her lips curved into that wicked smirk again. "Look at you," she purred, her voice still slightly unsteady. "So desperate. So needy. Your cock is practically begging me to let you fuck me."
She reached down between her legs, spreading her pussy with two fingers in an open invitation that needed no verbal accompaniment. The gesture was slow, deliberate—confident in a way that made the air feel heavier, charged with unspoken intent.
For a moment, she simply held the pose, watching, waiting—letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the invitation impossible to ignore. That knowing smile grew at her lips then, as if she already knew exactly what choice would be made next.