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Erik the Pussy Slayer

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Erik had always dreamed of adventure. The wide road ahead of him, his foe’s blood on his blade and sultry maidens bringing him pints of ale after a long day of raiding forgotten ruins. He wanted to see the world, taste danger and explore the many curves and nooks the female body had to offer. Surely, there were helpless women out there just waiting to be saved by a dashing young adventurer, and in return give him a bit of their sweet gratitude…

Erik was an earnest, but naive lad. And a virgin.

The sleepy hamlet of Rorikstead offered little in the ways of amusement. Aside from long walks and listening to the bard’s songs at his father’s inn, Erik had few means of spending what little free time he had. Thus, he mostly kept to himself. And masturbated like crazy whenever he had the opportunity.

The shed was filled with the smell of hay, a few straws got into his red hair. His cock was firmly in his grasp, palms greasy from troll fat salve mixed with a pinch of fire salts. The mixture made the whole shaft feel pleasantly itchy. He was breathing faster with every jerk. His other hand was gently rubbing his scrotum. He wasn’t in a hurry, father was busy sharing local rumors with some wayward traveler. Erik had plenty of time to spare.

Underneath his eyelids was a vision. She was sitting on a stool, a bucket with a wash cloth placed next to her slender calf. Her rich skin was glimmering in the candlelight, soapy water dripping lazily from her jet-black hair onto soft breasts and belly, sinking into the silky black underbrush beneath. This wasn’t a fantasy, but a tender memory that always made him cum like a breeding steed. As a little boy, no more than three years old, he walked in on one of the guests at his father’s inn taking a bath. The woman was a Redguard slowly entering middle-age. When she noticed him peeping, she burst into laughter and beckoned to come closer. She lovingly stroked his flushed cheek and then sat him on her lap. To this day, Erik remembered the smell of the woman’s hair and her hard, dark nipple tickling his cheek. The Redguard was smiling and rocking him in her wet, warm embrace… He was too young to feel anything else than safety and blissful glee. Had he been there now, as a strapping young man…

There it was, that sudden mist before his eyes! His hand clenched tighter around his sack, whilst the other focused on the tip of his penis. Thick veins emerged on his neck and shaft. With a grunt that fell into a cry he came all over his abdomen and thighs. His body tensed, then relaxed as sticky streams marked his body. Semiconsciously, he muttered ‘Mara, save me!’ whilst his cloudy cum was sinking into his rough red pubic hair.

For a moment he kept on mechanically stroking his cock, eyes set somewhere into the distance. Finally, he reached for a piece of cloth, wiped the sweat from his brow and neck, then tenderly cleansed himself of the troll fat salve and cum. He never felt shame because of what he was doing in the privacy of the shed. Or his room. Or his father’s wine cellar. Or behind the thick bushes near the mill. He felt good and relaxed afterwards. Still, he longed to share his body with someone.

“Erik!” It was Mralki, his father calling him. “Where are you boy? The sheets for the guests won’t change themselves!”

“Coming, pa!” He called back, wiping his hands, oblivious of the pun he just made. He fastened his belt and tossed the cloth behind as he was exiting the shed.