Thread: The Tribe of Lithia and Its People (Blood Red Roan x GoldenGateSon)

Both Reva and Nivea had become thoroughly engrossed in the exchange. While Reva's reactions were mostly light gasps, soft moans, and sharply drawn breaths as lips met and she could taste her mother and herself on Valeer's lips each time they kissed, Nivea's reactions were different. Where Reva had let her mouth be dominated, Nivea had contested, and her tongue had met Valeer's with equal intensity. A break from her lips always elicited soft, sultry words of encouragement with a hand guiding him to her waiting breasts and increasingly aching nipples or over to her daughter. Reva seemed unsure of whether to place her hands upon her own mother or Valeer, though in the end she had one over his hand that groped at her full and luscious rear, with the other drifting down to where she could feel his length against her leg. Nivea had one hand always tangled in Valeer's raven-black hair but her other beat Reva to the destination. Between their thighs he'd easily enough feel those same fingers that had teased him rubbing over the the top of his length - more or less surrounding it in oiled and smooth flesh. Though nothing near like what Nivea intended for his final destination. Young hunter, her breathing was heavy, voice heavy with a sultry tone as if designed to make him all the more painfully aroused. every inch of us is for you on this night of worship and celebration. She let out a breathy laugh, Would you see yourself first spent upon the sheets of the altar? When there are so much more - satisfying - options? She would try to guide him. An urging tug with the hand tangled in his hair, the other leaving teasing his length to pull on his shoulder. If he complied then he'd find himself guided to rest his back against her stomach. In such a way that as she rested on her side, it'd be a simple turn of his head and a small move to draw the rich milk of her breasts again. All the while with a hand running through his hair and another running over his chest and feeling muscles and tone of youth that some day adulthood would fill out to their full potential, while she whispered breathy promises of what was to come and what she wished to see of this night - of how she envisioned her daughter overflowing with his seed as she was spread out over the sheets of satin they now rested on and how she positively ached to feel him atop her or feel his weight on her back as he took her from behind. And while she was no blushing virgin to shudder and quake, she found a warmth in her core already at the vision of when he would some day come to her as his family patriarch, with gifts for the altar, and to worship with her that his wives might have a bountiful family to carry his name. Oh yes, Valus had bred a fine son, she thought. A fine son indeed. Reva slipped to rest partially over him and moved so that he might take her breasts and sate himself for the moment with her milk once more before she began slipping her way down. Pressing tightly to his body and essentially sandwiching him again between she and her mother. This time he'd be able to feel as she pressed her flesh against his length, grinding her leg against hist erect manhood. Venturing close, oh so close to her glistening folds, but not close enough that an errant thrust or grope would find himself sunk to the hilt in the young woman just yet. Instead she had other plans. Reaching his length with her mouth and immediately setting out to pepper the very base of his length with heated kisses. Before beginning to lap at his base. And then moving up - dragging her tongue up the whole of his length. A hand soon clasping it to stroke slowly behind what she licked at and planted those hot and needing kisses of her's against. Until her agonizingly slow progress brought her to the very tip of his length. And it was there the caramel skinned priestess looked up to lock eyes with him as she slowly opened her mouth. Slipping the very tip of his manhood between her lips. But there she waited. Unmoving - by all outward appearances. Save the hand massaging his sack. And the hot tip of her tongue that he'd be able to feel lapping out at the very tip of his length as if to constantly keep his attention from being cast anywhere else in the meanwhile. With Nivea at his back, she continued to encourage him - whatever it was that he might be doing. This is your ceremony, young hunter. One hand left his body and slipped quickly between Nivea's own legs, We are your's to use, as best you see.