the witcher yennefer

Carol hiked herself up on one ass cheek and rubbed an oily finger around her anus, depositing a bit of oil in her anal canal. She hopped off the island, grabbed my hand and the olive oil and headed for the living room. “It will be more comfortable in here. My knees are sore.” She set the oil on the coffee table and kissed me again, stroking my dick vigorously as she did. “We don’t have to do this. You can say no.”

“Because I was like you when I was young. My ego was as great as my powers, and I did awful things because I thought right and wrong didn’t apply to me. Then, when I was finally put on the right path and looked at myself, the guilt was unbearable, eating away at me like a swarm of goblins. My mentor, my predecessor as Light’s Emissary, helped me bear my pain and taught me to carry the guilt instead of dragging it behind me.

Still, she made me nuts. When the class would be working on an in-class assignment, she would float around the room, answering questions and offering advice. She always paused at my desk, squeezed my shoulder or rubbing it a little and ask if I needed help. I thought she kept touching me longer than she did with the other kids, massaging my shoulder or sliding her hand down to the middle of my hunched over back. I would break out in a sweat whenever she touched me, and my cock, which was in the teenage stage of always being semi hard, would become rigid and strain against the fabric of my underwear and pants.