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“Ah. Interesting. I don’t think I ever fucked a virgin. You know what to do.” We got to the kitchen, and Carol sat up on the kitchen island and grabbed my cock again. “Good. Your tall enough for this. My short ass husband couldn’t get his dick above the counter.” She laid back on the island, pushing my head down as she did. “Lick me for a minute. I want to be nice and wet when you stretch my pussy.” Carol put her legs on my shoulders as I bent over to lick her already quite wet pussy. I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked it into my mouth again, swirling my tongue all around her throbbing nub. “Fuck yeah. You just found my new favorite way to get eaten. Yeah. Don’t stop. Suck on my pussy.” My face was wet again, with her juices running down my chin and dripping onto the cold granite. I paused playing with her clit to lick up around her hole. I slid down and licked the wetness from her taint. She moaned and I lifted her hips a bit and ran my tongue over her nice clean butthole. She moaned again. “Ahhhhh! Bad boy! Save that for later. Fuck me now!”

This bounty hunter had spent years doing his job, hunting down criminals like they were beasts and putting his life on the line time and time again, bereft of fear. He had heard plenty of threats before, plenty of warnings about what would happen if he continued his endeavors, and shrugged them off. That said, the man before him was projecting so much hatred, so much sadistic killing intent, that he felt a chill crawl up his spine, a chill he wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before. It didn’t matter if the man before him was his target or not. He promptly turned and left, wanting to get as far away from the Knight’s Sheath and this rapacious lunatic as possible. Once he was gone, everyone in the bar applauded Noah’s performance, and he turned and bowed.

The fights continued, but they were becoming more and more drawn out. The weakest combatants had all been culled in the first three rounds, and now the remaining warriors were going at it with everything they had. Eventually, Noah’s first target entered the arena. He was a young man, spirited and garbed in plate mail, having won his fights with hard-won determination and effort. His name was Falco. Noah followed him outside, the warrior unaware of his presence. On the other end of the ring, his opponent arrived, another man, a few inches taller and years older, wearing dark clothes and an amused smirk upon seeing Falco. Both were brawlers, entering the ring without weapons.