Captain post

/me dreaded the languid process of their rut, simply because of her impatience when clearly accustomed to the frenzied throes of their lovemaking. Their hips should be smacking loudly by now and reach their climax in a matter of moments. Alas, they spent their time quarreling back and forth, truly caught in a stalemate between bickering and pressing forth while caught in the heat of the discussion; a petty argument for the most part. Whether the argument or the fact that the Captain hadn't fully sheathed bothered her more? Who truly knew. Tossing their insecurities resolved nothing and the fabrication of this harlot was toilsome to continue hurling at the Captain, certain her convictions were seeded from the fear of losing him. From the beginning, the matron was accustomed to honorable men such as Leonhard to prioritize their work, devoting to the cause and return home to be a man to his wife. Not one to drag their work problems to their amicable home, discarding their woes and stress to become that perfect husband who provides the love and financial stability of the house. In this case, the Captain had 1,000 mouths to feed and a woman to envelop his love with. If anything, the Captain was being the perfect husband to 1,000 grown men and a needy wife who experienced his absence for a prolonged amount of time, perhaps spoiling the deity by making his presence known day in and day out since their initial meeting. Ah, it was sheer torture! Instead of conveying her concerns like an adult, expressing her displeasure in the Captain's absence for scant hours; she accused him of cheating as if it would solve anything. Inhaling sharply as the aged soldier continued to question her state of mind, dreaming up scenarios of infidelity -- why did the deity feel like proving him wrong? No perfume lingered on the man, he continued to reek of masculinity, perspiration after a day's work, and the lingering stench of the armored suit needing a decent wash. It was arousing in itself. Yes, the confessions would elate the matron but no more than a passing second before realizing how childish it truly was. Not as if his recriminations didn't sting, either. Arthur, the main antagonist, and the band of mercs which joined the campfire to strike up a nonchalant conversation. It's what irked the Captain; Arthur and his youthful countenance. Knitting her platinum brows as another inch budged into the honeypot, a heated breath escaped, sounding more like a grunt than anything else and deny the Captain any sound of pleasure despite her figure positively burning with passion!

"You...believe I...I...had time...t-to think of...other men?" Arthur had only been a distraction. Did the Captain believe that the deity took the time to doll herself, manage to flirt with his band of mercs, and find time to spend personal time with one of her choosing? Leonhard wouldn't found the matron in the throes of passion in another tent, returning unceremoniously and a guilty expression when meeting the Captain. Arthur casting her a pretty smile to charm her? Nonsense. "H-he did no such thing..." uttered in sincerity. Since their initial meeting, Arthur's visage nor youthful beauty was taken into consideration, too besotted with the Captain to mind him attention outside of a polite greeting. Accusing the old bear of this very act with another woman truly sounded silly now. Ah, was he jealous of the deity casting polite smiles to his men, too? My, how selfish! After the events in the river, there was no doubt any man would dare to be past courteous with the platinum-haired woman. One left traumatized, and others surely heard their cries of passion these past weeks -- it was normal by now. Even with the flickering flame as sunset dawned upon them, that moment of respite the Captain allowed himself to view his prey and speculate the minute of details to further confirm his delusions was admirable. So, he believed her. Eyes of a soldier to notice such meticulous things in a person, and verify anything incongruous in their person. Thus far, the Captain had been the only man to have touched her delicate raiments, the only stains pertaining to his rough handling of the deity. Just a split-second of his mien softening to admire the scent was relieving in itself, only to be shattered by his comment. Even the dollops of blood staining her outfit earned a twitch; she disliked filth on her outfits. Pride in her immaculate persona, the impulsive nature of the matron often resulted in consequences she'd dread. The crimson stains blended with the dark hue of the coat, only becoming visible whenever it fell upon the embroidery of intricate leaves and its stems. Strength was an asset which had diminished greatly over time, heavily dependent on leisure activities which called for no use of strength. Oh, how feeble it made the deity. Insult to injury might've earned him another slap but...enough scars decorated the Captain, adding a single scratch where the entire world could see was satisfying enough. A mark the deity had inflicted to represent her possessive nature. Rocking from the thrust, the firm grip upon her throat only felt the gulp of excess saliva traveling down its canal. No sound outside of her nostrils flaring.

There was a different stare which piqued the matron's interest, causing her to retain silence for a succinct second, returning the inquisitive glance when something warmer blossomed. He was truly submerged in a thought, and how desperate she wished to read his mind if possible. Now, the thrusts continued; he hadn't fully hilted. Again, the frustration returned, meaning to force the Captain to thrust without abandon but his resolve to bid his time was challenging. An itch developed at the inner thigh, the scraping of metal against succulent flesh causing it to irritate, leaving her to inhale through clenched teeth, the clanking sound filling her ears with erotic sensations the deity seldom indulged in. Armor on a man was highly appealing, perhaps because it limited their flexibility while testing their endurance to perform in a rut with extra weight on their body. Confessing his love wouldn't make the honeypot any looser; he was well aware of her virginal tightness. The Captain's anger mixed with the matron's process of sealing up made a dangerous combo, leaving the couple to experience sheer bliss. Yes, she believed there was no harlot! Only she. The closeness caused muscles to loosen, ready to welcome a kiss they would've shared but accepted the steamed grunt pressed into her ear. Ngh, but how amazing did the curve of the mast feel! Hot and thick pulsing through the quilted walls to reach the cervix! Despite his insecurities about having children, the Captain was adamant in filling the womb with every last drop, never satisfied with anything outside of it. Except, this whole ordeal intensified it. For both of them. Not only did the squeeze on the throat tightened but so did the matron's resolve. Plush tiers finally parted to pant lightly for air, that wet muscle resting on the bottom tier with a little twinkle behind those jade orbs. Why did it feel amazing to be so helpless in his grasp? Furrowing those brows as the Captain withdrew only to plow back into the womb caused the matron to jut forward, the cupcakes bouncing under the cloth just as the aged soldier grasped them, toying with the sensitive flesh and mildly thankful for the grasp on the throat to suppress any embarrassing sounds. The deity felt a pinch in the honeypot, causing nails to rake against the wooden table, impatient with the pace until a ripping sound earned a quiet gasp. No, her clothes! Was it payback for ruining his desk!?

Every fabric was rippable. This was no exception, especially when invoking the Captain's wrath. Right through the middle was a visible gap, the porcelain-like flesh radiant and the familiar bulge of the mast became visible at the midriff. Beneath the flesh, the crown churned the loins like butter, the beautiful skin bruised and irritated by the man's rough course of actions! Bit by bit the fabric pulled apart, leaving the coat draped on the sleeves with the entirety of her frame exposed to the Captain for his viewing pleasure. There he saw those petite breasts bounce in a counter-clockwise fashion, the erected nipple flailing against the air until one breast received attention. Instantly, the nipple hardened as it was toyed with, the sensation absolutely amazing with the gauntlet on -- cool and calloused to the touch! Its twin received equal attention as the first cry of pleasure finally sounded. Oh, my, it was impossible to keep silent for so long. Saliva already seeped from the corner of her lips, drooling onto the table while still parted to vacuum as much air as possible. Tiny cuts formed at the inner thighs, bruises on the pelvis, and irritation where the metal ground against the midriff when he lowered. It was heaven! "You..left me..." expelled in quiet pants "For so long". Dainty hands elevated to clasp at his shoulders, raking the finely manicured nails against it to no avail, assaulting the man out of sheer passion and rage! With the shred of oxygen still received by her lungs, those nails tested the durability of his armor, surely keeping the man safe from harm. Thick cloth and a thin layer of metal over protected the man from such assaults, wrestling to convey her feelings even if in an angered state. "So long...". Ngh, but he had returned, pinned her to the table and ravaged her! Still! His lecherous gaze when the deity became prey served on the table, having the audacity to swell and take her! Oh, but hadn't she already climaxed something small? Natural lubrication mixed with the Captain's batter eased the passage of the honeypot but did nothing to loosen the dangerously tight grip of the cervix! It would completely close soon. His Spiel only added to the pleasure! Clutching at his biceps to hold steady, the platinum-haired matron was in a frenzy of pleasure, rocked against the table with lips permanently parted as the gloved hand left a faint tattoo of his hand upon that delicate throat. Just a step beneath suffocating the deity.

Caught in the sea of pleasure as their anger fueled their passion for each other, their confessions of love left the platinum-haired beauty to cry out, unable to hold her feelings for the armored Captain. Except, the speech was limited to heated breaths. Lids fluttered shut at half-mast, creating a glossy texture of those hues while gazing at the love of her life, the pupils dilating to form something different. Why did it feel like heaven being at the man's mercy? Pinned to the table with the intention of breeding and making her his personal little slave? Why did the clanking sound arouse her so much? Beads of sweat began to form at the temples and other grinding areas, creating a lovely sheen which made the matron glow in the throes of passion; she was elated. They loved each other and would have a child soon. Next step was marriage and...a pinch was felt. Pursing those plush tiers, the platinum brows knitted and the grasp on his arms tightened, the lovely back arching enough to form a gap. Between the thrusts, the glistening rod of lust found itself trickling with a thin layer of virginal blood upon it, cleansing itself within the depths of her honeypot to thin it out. Did the thought of getting married to the Captain cause the honeypot to restore its hymen if only to be torn by the Captain? It left her porcelain-like cheeks to brighten. A virgin for the Captain. Flattening on the table and allow the spilled ink to be absorbed by her uniform, the matron would be reduced to using the old tunic Leonhard presented before the river -- it would make a wonderful maternity dress. Gods, yes, the matron believed him! The midriff continued to bulge as a testament to the size difference between them, the silence finally broken with the moans of the matron releasing into the air, silencing the creaking sounds of the worn desk becoming their temporary bed to perform pre-marital sex. Toes curled inward and outward, the cool air becoming warm from the body heat being emitted from their bodies, the clanking armor proving to be a great weakness as feet brushed against the back section.

"L-Leonhard..." a breathy cry. "I-I love you...so much...". It was pain to be apart from him. Gods, why couldn't the matron have been a pure maiden up until now? Never known the touch of man until meeting the Captain. Pursing those plush tiers to coo and inhale through the gap, hues finally formed heart-shaped pupils, gazing into the ceiling of the tent while living the fantasy of making love with the Captain as if it were her first time. Alas, it was only a matter of time before her first powerful orgasm would be triggered. Every nook and cranny of the old bear was squeezed in a vice-like grip, massaged by the experienced walls eager to milk him for more seed than it currently oozed out. The velvet petals adopted a hue of crimson, representing the abuse to match the inner thighs and midriff he freely irritated and scratched with the armor. Not his fault, of course. "I...love you..." whispered again with certainty. Platinum tresses fanned on the table like a decoration engraved upon it, creating the illusion of tasteful art. Drooling as the heart-shaped pupils glanced with an endearing stare, the porcelain-like cheeks continued to brighten, complimenting her beatific countenance with this newfound love for the Captain. No man in this world nor the campsite could satisfy the deity like Leonhard can, and none were even capable of getting the matron aroused despite their close proximity. No, the matron was absolutely enamored with the Captain; her body ached for him, her mind yearned for him, and her soul desired him! Should the mantle of mother nature of this world be bestowed, then Leonhard would become her King, the mortal who inseminated the deity! What a beautiful ring to it. Oh, please...the aged soldier should definitely marry the deity! "I love you...Leonhard..." another gasp as those heart-shaped pupils locked with his own.