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The Gamer Chapter 1208 – No Holds Barred Interlewd – Effort and Appreciation
🕑 Added 2022-05-02 18:41:39 +0000 UTC“Not here.”
John stopped with his hand on the handle of the halfway open bedroom door. On his heels, he halfway turned to shoot Nightingale a curious glance. The Disciple Perk was wonkily worded, saying only that he had to have sex with a willing goddess and make her orgasm, without a clear definition what ‘sex’ meant. For all he knew, fingering her could have been enough. Whatever the exact demands, they were in agreement that none of her first times should have happened out in the open. The elevator had taken them to the second level. From there, the Gamer had considered his apartment to be the reasonable destination.
“What’s wrong with here?” he asked.
Nightingale’s left wing brushed over the backrest of the Harem Couch. It didn’t react to her touch as she was not one of his women. Yet, as the harpy had practically demanded he try to prove himself to her after Delicia was saved. “This is the roost of your harem, it is not my place to dwell and love here.” Soft whispers of soft feathers over leather accompanied her folding her wings back. Their tips crossed behind her head, adding a backdrop to her ever so slightly purple tinted hair. “A less personal environment would be appropriate.”
Although John would have preferred to make this engagement more intimate than circumstances suggested, he agreed with her logic. ‘I’ll just have to put all the more effort into the act itself,’ he thought as he closed the door to the bedroom. “Well, I have a playroom,” he said and amusedly blew air out of his nose. “The proper title is Sex Dungeon, but I assure you it’s not that freaky – unless you want it to be.”
“I have no particular inclinations in that regard.” Nightingale took a step to the side, to let John lead the way. “You have a simple home,” she commented on their way out of the apartment. “I expected an unordinary roost.”
“I’m weird because I’m exceptional, not because I nail socks to the walls or something like that,” John joked. To walk beside her, he fell back a little bit and smiled. “Women of your calibre wouldn’t be interested in me if I was too much of an oddity.”
Nightingale responded to his flirtatious tone in kind. “You’re stable and exciting, a mixture to be appreciated.” Lowering her gaze just a little bit, the harpy carried herself in a way that felt ladylike in a way that was so overtly effortless that years of training in etiquette and body language must have gotten into it. Humility lay in her expression, the downcast eyes and the little smile, and confidence in every stride that carried her straight posture forwards. Although her leotard hid little below the waist, her wings were angled at all times to keep glances at her round butt to just that: glances.
His ogling was clearly noticed and neither of them commented on it. John did not feel like he owed an explanation as to why he would indulge his eyes in such a pleasant sight. After a minute of walking, they arrived at the Sex Dungeon’s door.
John led the way inside. On the surface, the room was largely plain. The floor was made out of black mats of similar firmness as those gymnasts used. All of that space was empty. The walls were claimed by shelves, most of them tall and each of their segments sealed by windowed fronts. A couple were only at hip height, giving room for chains and other tools to hang directly from the walls. Every surface was filled with sex toys, ordered by kind and size. The selection contained the simplest of vibrators and naughtiest of restrains and yet still did not cover the entirety of what the Sex Dungeon had to offer. So much more was hidden in its inventories.
“Do you want to freshen up?” John asked and pointed at the single other door in the room, leading to a sizable bathroom. Intercourse was an often messy affair, especially when reaching the excesses of a BDSM orgy, and even the women he had been with for over a year usually preferred presenting themselves in the cleanest state possible before they inevitably got stained by the events. “I’d prepare things in the meantime.”
“Hmm,” she hummed one flawless note, before nodding. “One last preening, before I lose what I felt no man earned before.”
John swallowed and let the weight of that expectation descend on him. No matter how many women he added to his harem, he never wanted to feel like his first time with them was just another entanglement. This was special. Doubly so when his first time with them was their first time period. A reputation and her initial impression of sex was on the line.
After opening the door with her talons, Nightingale stepped inside. It was still odd to see someone do everything he would do with his hands with their feet. He knew that she could turn her wings into arms, a minor shapeshifting ability accompanying her divinity. A remainder from her life as a regular harpy, no doubt.
John opened the settings of the Sex Dungeon and started editing the environment. Since she had no immediate interest in BDSM, he covered the shelves up with curtains of purple velvet. To counteract the emptiness of a room set for harem-sized orgies, he spawned in a number of plants. Some of them were typically romantic flowers, like roses, but the majority were flowers that bloomed at night, like phlox, jasmine, and wisteria, coming in bushes, patches and as vines, all of which were distributed across the room. At safe spots between the green, he placed clay pots filled with burning incense. Cherry and sandalwood mixed with the sweetness of the flowers into a rejuvenating fragrance.
Although it was still the Sex Dungeon, by the end of John’s work, it resembled more of a secret grove. Even the curtains were barely visible. Placing a bed in that environment felt out of place, so he instead created a spot in the middle of the greenery where piles of firm and soft pillows of varying sizes created a resting place worthy of a sultana. Nightingale was from Austria and as pale as one could be, yet John still felt the image fit her.
The final touch of it all was to dim the lights to the level of a starlit night. With that, he had made all of the preparations he could. ‘I’m really happy we didn’t just do it in the bed,’ the Gamer thought, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back again. There was just a twinge of nervousness. The kind easily avoided by knowing someone better. For all he knew, Nightingale may have had an aversion to sweet smells, ruining the effect of this entire ensemble.
After a total of fifteen minutes, the door of the bathroom opened again. A wave of hot, moist air, scented with lavender, hit John. There was no clear physical difference to before. Her hair may have been a little bit wilder, her skin the slightest bit flush, and her feathers a little bit fluffier, but Nightingale was still her jaw-dropping self. Her wings were wrapped around her, covering all below her collarbones.
The light of the bathroom shut down automatically after she silently advanced two steps. Immediately, the velvet curtain extended to cover the door, eliminating the last visual hiccup in the grove. Nightingale’s black lips were parted, revealing pearly white teeth, just a tad sharper than those of a regular human. “Lovely,” she whispered, her voice clearly reflecting that she was impressed.
John let the smile spread on his face. “Glad you appreciate my effort,” he said and moved to her side. Usually, he would have asked for her hand. Instead, he gently put an arm around her back and nudged her towards the hill of pillows. The invitation was taken and they walked to the edge of the pillows.
“Close your eyes,” Nightingale requested, her voice quivering the slightest bit. A hint of vulnerability, shown as a deliberate sign of trust. It was her way of showing that his efforts to make this arrangement a romantic one were working. At least, that’s how he read her, relying only on his intuition and experience.
“As you wish,” John obliged and felt her step away from his arm. He lowered it. Pillows rustled. A tiny sigh escaped Nightingale. In the soundless grove, her quiet breathing was audible. Was there a hint of excitement compromising the rhythmic in and out or was that just wishful thinking? The sound of feathers moving on pillows eventually stopped.
Then the harpy’s voice caressed his ears, dominating his senses with its sweetness and all its uncertainty. “Swear one more time, to what you hold dear, John, that you will be my suitor.”
For a moment, he considered making a joke to try and dispel some of the tension under her voice. He reigned himself in and responded with the seriousness she needed. “I swear by my harem and all else that I have built, that I will commit to knowing you, pleasing you and, if our fates align, loving you. You will have safety in my realm and my attention as your suitor.”
“Open your eyes.” John obliged and beheld the still wing-covered front of Nightingale, lying atop the mountain of pillows. “Behold, then, my suitor, what the eyes of many men covet. The body of the renowned songstress, who ascended to goddess of the night.”
As her wings unfurled, the darkness of the room grew thinner. The artificial silver light, made to mimic that of the stars, grew more intense in the absence, covering the naked skin revealed. Her slender hourglass figure was a balanced work of art, from the soft-looking thighs to her small breasts. Soft mounds, crowned by dark grey nipples, an unusual yet fitting colour on her moon silver skin
Two sickles of midnight blue started below her chest and curved towards the little depression that travelled down from her sternum, over her flat stomach, and ended with her navel. The sickles were at their closest there, the width of John’s hand between them, and before curving outwards again and ending at her hips. Eight sharp diamond shapes existed in the curve of those sickles, four on each side, symmetrically placed, the stars to the moon slivers. They, too, were midnight blue, an inversion of the nocturnal firmament. Only the subtlest hint of her muscles was visible under her smooth skin, glistening softly with the moisture that remained from her shower.
Between her legs, her virginal pussy lips stood out in their dark grey colour, the same as her nipples. She was absolutely hairless down there. The emptiness of her groin, between the sickles, seemed to practically beg for his mark. John could imagine it perfectly. Even the colour was the same.
A wish to fulfil at a later time.
“Gorgeous.” John channelled his feelings into that single word and took a step towards her. She looked up at him with enigmatic lavender eyes, then straight at him when he lowered himself onto the pillows. With all the reverence proper for the body of a beautiful woman, he approached carefully. Like an ageless work of art, he touched her skin and felt the warmth of the harpy. Gently, he traced the left of the two sickles with his fingers.
“You need not take time to explore me,” Nightingale told him.
He absolutely needed to. There was not a hint of wetness between her legs, beyond what the shower had left. Getting her relaxed was the first step towards changing that. “There’s over three hours left before the meeting, we have enough time,” he assured her. “I’m still down there in two other bodies and in contact with my familiars.” He paused to let the words sink in, then he shifted the topic, “Did these come with your ascension?”
“Yes,” Nightingale confirmed and swallowed when the journey up the mark brought John’s hand to her left boob. Progressively, her nervousness peeked through the ladylike exterior. It occurred to him that she perhaps had stayed a virgin not just due to her high standards but also for inexperience fuelled awkwardness. Her urging words clashed with her delaying behaviour. “Inquiries about my person can wait.”
‘How desperate was she to help her friend that she was willing to offer her body?’ John asked himself. He climbed over her and framed her face with his hands. He leaned down. Her eyes went wide. With his forehead against hers, he stopped, staring deep into the amethyst depths before him. “It will be alright, Nightingale,” he assured her. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me and relax. We’ll be at our best after this.”
As he pulled back, the goddess nodded softly. Tracing his way down, he soon bowed over her breasts. His fingertips travelled over the skin of the petite mounds, towards the centre. An aroused exhale escaped her as he made his way towards the grey crowns. Methodically, he stimulated the areola and watched the tips of her nipples harden. A first proper sign of excitement.
“How do you want me to continue?” he asked, continuously caressing her breasts.
“I trust you to make the right decision,” Nightingale whispered. “There is only one demand: strip.”
John chuckled and stood up. He could have obliged her with the press of a button, but there was no fun in that. Grabbing his shirt by the collar, he pulled the black top off in one swift and decisive motion. It landed over a metre away, in a part of the pillows where it wouldn’t get in the way. His exposed, toned torso caused an audible inhale. Albeit a thin one, he still had the body of a Greek god. With one seasoned move, he loosened his pants. “Help me with this,” he suggested. He knew very well how exciting it was to unwrap a partner.
Nightingale did not need to rise to meet his request. Extending a foot, she reached out to his waist. Without as much as a flinch, John let the sharp, polished talons take hold of the waistband. She got it in one attempt, pulling his pants down enough that gravity did the rest. Before the foot could retreat, John took a firm hold of it and moved it back up to the waistband of his undergarments. He held it for as long as they needed to exchange a long look. Firm and trusting, he held eye contact, until her gaze jumped to the very pronounced tent downstairs. Then he let go.
A held, long breath was pushed out from the harpy’s lungs. She inhaled through her mouth. Her pale tongue licked her full, black lips. Distracting her with his physique most certainly worked and her chest rose and fell visibly. Carefully, she hooked one of her talons underneath his tightly sitting underpants. She tugged. Too weak to move it at first. Then her delicious looking thigh tensed a little and she gave it a proper pull.
The fabric slid downwards, angling his erection until force overcame resistance and the full size of his dick bounced into plain view. “Ah!” the harpy gasped, her feathers puffing up in an excited wave. They quickly settled again, just like Nightingale quickly regained her concentration and continued to pull the last piece of clothing downwards. Socks and shoes, John had lost earlier.
Kicking the last of his clothes aside, John let Nightingale devour him with her eyes for a solid five seconds. His cock oozed a drop of precum from the excitement. Again, she licked her lips, and they remained softly parted afterwards. If he had learned one thing in his lifetime, then it was that women were perverts too.
In a manner that let him show off his muscles in the process, John first got on one knee, then on both, and continued where he had left off. His renewed touch of her breasts coaxed the first true moan from her. Loud, it spread through the quiet room, a wonderful sound that she was wrongly embarrassed for. When she hid her mouth behind her wing, John chided her, “Let me see and hear you.”
“A-as you wish,” she stuttered, the horniness unmistakable in her voice.
At first, it was clear that she was controlling the ensuing gasps in an effort to make them sound more pleasing. Rather than continuously give her the verbal stick, he offered her the proverbial carrot. Each time he heard a particularly honest moan, he went a little bit further. His hands utilized the sensitive spots he was learning about. His tongue got involved, circling her areola. He groped her tits aggressively, then corrected when the roughness caused a hint of pain in her voice. Bit for bit, he trained her to let go of the control and sing out her pleasure freely.
While he kissed and sucked on her left tit, one of his hands journeyed down her midriff. Gorgeous writhing was felt under his fingers, focusing into excited quivers when he reached her cunt. He rubbed her outer lips, appropriately wet, and she gasped sharply. While he travelled up and down her slit, he leaned up to her ear. “How do you usually masturbate?” he asked.
“I… use a dildo… in the shape of your cock, my suitor.”
John grinned. The first part was what he bargained for, but the extra detail was more than welcome. ‘God bless Scarlett,’ he thought. “Do you ride it?” An affirmative gasp. “And did you ever watch the videos of me and my girlfriend?” A nod, involuntarily strong from a jolt going through her body. “What did you think about them?”
“The kinks were too rough for me, yet I deeply… deeply enjoyed how attractive you two are.”
Letting out a pleased hum, John ended that line of questioning. It was just to indulge himself. There was something else he wanted to know. “Did you ever use your own fingers?”
“Ah- No.”
“There’s a lot to show you then,” he whispered. “There’s so much more that can be done by someone who is paying attention.”
His fingers curved inside. The reaction was a tiny gasp, nothing world-shattering. That would soon change. John probed her tight hole for all of its little secrets. Many of the usual tricks worked, some didn’t, and a few unusual ones had her spine arch. She looked so lovably ecstatic that John had to bite the inside of his cheek not to claim those dark lips of hers.
Instead, he concentrated on bringing her bliss of a level that would leave any man that tried after him pale in comparison. Not that he intended to let anyone else try. With each moan and each gasp of the harpy’s voice, he wanted her more. He heard her pitch rise higher and higher and then he suddenly stopped stimulating her sensitive areas. For a solid stretch of time, he fumbled arounder her outer lips or caressed less sensitive skin around her swollen labia. Then, when her breathing started to calm, he expertly aimed for her clit and had her scream out loud. Her hips shot off the pillows, all of her tensed in anticipation – then he raised his hand and left her wet and panting.
“W-why?” she asked.
“Because it might be over when I’m not careful,” he said, his voice a little deeper than usual. His dom was surfacing. “And I enjoy your bliss far too much, my beautiful songbird.” Neither the announcement nor the little name got any kind of direct reaction. Nightingale screamed, at the edge of ecstasy, when he penetrated her with two fingers. The tight folds gripped him, yet the drenched wetness allowed him to curve and wiggle inside her. “I won’t make you beg – unless you want to.”
“Please let me cum!” she shouted almost immediately. It was the only plea and it was still powerful enough that John felt his dick tense. Had he been inside someone, he would have unloaded before her orgasm finally came about.
A second time, her lower half bucked up against his palm. This time, he did not stop, and masturbated her to completion. Nightingale screamed, the sound barely echoing, swallowed by the foliage and the curtains. What John heard was barely enough to make a dent in his insatiable desire. Her pussy was overflowing around his moving fingers. He wanted to see a more intense reaction, to make her squirt, to have her eyes roll up and her body wracked by spasms.
Some edging during the first time fingering her was not quite enough to achieve that. Writhing, claws curling around smaller pillows, she kept shouting, her eyes closed. The prolonged sound was eventually replaced with bursts of moans between quick exhales, accompanying intense shivers. John’s fingers had stopped by now and he let her ride out her orgasm in peace.
There was one consolation to all of this. “It did not work,” he told Nightingale, when she was starting to get her breathing under control. “We’ll have to continue.”
“Horrible,” she pushed out a single sarcastic remark.
