Chapter 109: The Elf's Work 1
Chapter 109: The Elf's Work 1
A gentle touch brushed softly over my eyelids.
A faint, delicate touch that made my eyes tickle, as if I might burst out laughing at any moment. As I focused on that feather-light, unhurried touch, my shirt had somehow ridden up before I knew it.
"But I'm the older one here...."
At the same time, a tiny whisper prickled my ear.
The touch and whisper were so faint they barely qualified as stimulation, yet they made my face flush hot, like electricity coursing through it. The desire boiling in my chest screamed at me to flip my body over and crush the Unfading Giant Tree beneath me. But another part of me whispered to just watch and see what a maiden, about to know a man for only the second time, would do next.
Naturally, it was the latter whisper that I sided with.
The hand stayed over my eyes. The other hand clumsily stroked across my chest. A soft, warm hand moved slowly over my chest. It didn't feel lewd. The Unfading Giant Tree's touch, still unversed in sex, was less about seducing a man or sating her own lust and more like she was patting and soothing my chest.
No one sane would call a parent patting a baby's bottom obscene.
She wasn't tickling me with her fingertips. She wasn't touching my nipples or areolae to gauge my reaction. She simply pressed her palm firmly against my chest and felt my heartbeat.
That didn't mean she was unaffected. To put a hand on my chest, she obviously had to touch my clothes. As she stroked my chest in rhythm with my heartbeat, I felt my shirt ride up and expose my stomach.
Even with my eyes closed, I could feel her gaze fixed on my bare stomach. Maybe it was an elven racial trait, but looking at a slender stomach with no six-pack or flab, it seemed hard to tell a man from a woman.
Her curiosity piqued by that fact, I felt her hand slip subtly downward, from my shirt-covered chest toward my exposed navel.
Her palm rubbed my stomach in little circles, as if she were rolling a lump of clay into a ball. It felt like getting a soothing massage from a mother's hand. Of course, with the sensation of her thighs cradling the back of my head and the crisp forest scent blending with the soft touch, my cock naturally rose to attention.
She must have seen it pushing up against my pants while she rubbed my stomach, because her palm stopped dead.
From chest to stomach—and from stomach down between my legs. But going further down seemed to require a considerable amount of courage.
Agonizingly slow, her palm moved lower. From above my navel, pressing down over it, then down, further down. Either the position was awkward or she was tense, because I felt her upper body gradually lean closer. The amount of light seeping through my eyelids lessened, and long blonde strands of hair brushed softly against my face.
At some point, the hand covering my eyes vanished, but I had no desire to open them. The emotions I felt from her skin against mine were astonishingly vivid. Was this the difference between races, or the difference between Constellation and Incarnation?
Her pride and courage, mixed together, stimulated me like a well-made latte. Her entire knowledge of male-female relationships began and ended with her first time with me, but her pride as a woman and the older one kept her going. A tiny desire to forgo any clumsy appearance and lead me with the cool poise of a shoujo manga heroine.
Her desire was truly pitiful, but precious at the same time.
Perhaps she lacked the nerve to take off my pants entirely. She hooked one hand under the waistband and slipped the other inside, and I almost let out a laugh at the sight.
"I-is this okay?"
The moment her hand went inside my waistband, the first thing she felt was surely the tip of my rigidly upturned cock, trapped against my underwear, and its heat. I felt her slender fingers reach my lower abdomen, then flinch and pull back in alarm.
Maybe she remembered, from last time, how grabbing and shaking it got the pants in the way. The hand that had shyly retreated now grabbed my waistband, and I opened my eyes. Her cheeks were bright red as she took hold of my pants and pulled them down. Just the pants, that is.
What was so fascinating about my plain grey boxer-briefs? Her eyes pinned themselves to them as if nailed there. A bit of pre-cum had probably leaked onto the head after a few pokes from her fingertips. I wondered if that was what drew her gaze so much.
'And on top of everything, I smell sweet....'
It was a little funny, really. Instead of the stuffy, lurid scent of night-blooming flowers, or the smell of squid, I gave off the scent of wildflowers and grass. I was lying in the living room, but the fragrance made it feel like I was taking a bubble bath. And I wasn't the only one. The Unfading Giant Tree, a pure-blooded elf, was the same.
It was a decadent scene—a defenseless boy being touched however she pleased. The situation must have been unbearably arousing for her, because a fresh grassy scent wafted from her body. Like spring arriving in a tiny forest and making every flower bloom, a sweetness had begun to mingle with her crisp, natural body scent.
'If her chest was a bit bigger... no. That might look a bit strange.'
If she had leaned over and had a larger chest, she could have tormented me with her mouth while giving me a handjob. But breasts like that on her slender, girlish frame would probably look odd. Wasn't this the epitome of the slender model type? A body as beautiful as a well-carved plaster statue would look weird with breasts the size of a human head tacked on.
Maybe the term "race of beauty" wasn't for nothing. Even as she was now, her figure looked perfect, and my feeble imagination couldn't even picture her any differently.
Still, I could reach out my hand. It was a little awkward, but from where I lay with my head on her thighs, I stretched my arms up above me as if making a triumphant stretch. My target was, her pendant. Since her garment was a kind of tunic—a long piece of cloth wrapped around her body and fastened with the pendant—if I undid that, the whole thing would probably just slip right off.
Elven traditional clothing. Thinking about it that way made it seem incredibly lewd.
When I reached up, she seemed to take it as a signal to undress me. Just like last time, she pulled my shirt upward. My vision was briefly covered, and now I was down to my underwear. Considering how the head of my cock twitched and grew slicker with each little jolt of stimulation, I really wanted to get my underwear off fast. Honestly, it was getting gross.
The sight of the crotch of my grey boxer-briefs getting wetter little by little might look truly obscene to a woman of this world. But one thing was certain: I personally felt disgustingly gross.
Maybe she understood my feelings, or maybe she was just trying to copy our previous experience, but she immediately pulled my underwear down. The slightly cool air hit my angry cock, but it had already savored the sweet scent and soft touch, and it didn't wilt one bit.
"Wow, it's so sticky...."
She let out a tiny murmur of admiration and reached out with both hands. She seemed curious about the clear fluid leaking from the slit of my glans. She wanted to rub it with her palm the way she had rubbed my stomach earlier. She grabbed my bobbing cock with one hand and with the other started poking and prodding the sticky, wet glans before rubbing it in circles with her palm.
"Nn... n-noona?"
"Hehe, you're actually calling me noona?"
She giggled innocently, clearly delighted that I was calling her noona. She had no idea what it felt like to press and rub the glans in circles with the slightly concave center of her palm. Well, it'd be weird if a woman did know that feeling....
She appeared to have learned how to control her strength from last time. She gently squeezed the shaft of my cock while using the pre-cum like lotion, rubbing it around her palm in circles. The stimulation wasn't intensely pleasurable, but maybe it was the constant teasing at the tip—because I already felt the urge to cum building up. Given its size, she probably saw it twitch and swell just a bit more. She smirked at me and said,
"It's okay. You, well, last time it didn't end with just one time either."
Then, the hand that had been still around my shaft started pumping up and down, chak-chak.
Had I gotten too used to having near-limitless stamina? It felt like not holding back my orgasm had become a habit. Lying on the floor with my head on her thighs, I instinctively tensed my buttocks and my lower back arched upward.
'Wait, if I cum in this position....'
Those tiny hands weren't going to be able to handle the amount—
As if telling me to worry about such things later, semen naturally began to flow. A sharp, stinging pleasure zapped up from my tailbone along my spine.
The torrent of thick, gushing semen was, far too much for one of her hands to contain.
"Ah... oh, I see. The position...."
Milky-white semen splattered onto my lower abdomen, plop plop, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. And to make the whole situation even stranger, its scent was sweet again, so it felt like someone was spraying body wash on me.
She tried to cup the overflowing semen with the hand that had been holding my shaft, rather than just the one rubbing the head. But could spilled semen ever be cleaned up neatly with bare hands? I felt the sticky sensation of it sliding toward my pubic bone and the lingering lassitude of pleasure, and I was debating whether to get up and wipe it off. Then, a pale, soft pair of breasts suddenly loomed before my eyes.
It took me a few seconds to understand that this was the Unfading Giant Tree's attempt to clean me up with her tongue, since her two hands weren't enough.