The Dovah Syndel: A Skyrim Futa Tale

The sun was already high in sky by the time Syndel’s eyes opened to the world, greeting the day with a yawn as she sat up from the pile of fur and downy stuffed quilts that served as her bed. Strong hands flexed first outward at her sides before lifting up high above her head, drawing a long groan of satisfaction as her spine stretched out the kinks of sleep. Swirling orbs looked out of the clear glass of the bedroom window, assessing the time of the day. Nearly noon, she wagered, plenty of time still left in the day, a slight shift in the bed brought her gaze down.

Lydia, the Nord housecarl gifted to her many years ago by the Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun, still slept in peaceful bliss. Syndel let her gaze start at the mused rich black locks that framed her face, giving the typical pale Nord skin a greater alabaster look. Sharp features were a touch softened in her sleep, yet something stirred her in her dreams and her eyebrows knitted for a moment as she drew in a sharp breath. Syndel bit her lower lip, that was a look that she saw often and it stirred her deeply. She began shifting her position while she watched Lydia, letting her appreciation for such a view rise from between her thighs.

The Breton stretched out on her side facing Lydia, one leg cocked up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent up, leaving her lewdly displayed to her sleeping lover. While her swirling eyes raked over the nude and partially uncovered Nord warrior, her right hand grasped the firm shaft of her cock and gave it a squeeze.

Scars from battles and the harsh living of Skyrim life criss-crossed her smooth skin. Some were badges of honor or reminders of failures that should never be forgotten. The most impressive trophy of her adventures was currently griped by her right hand. The mast of flesh jutted from her mound, her grip spanning less than a third of it, its veins throbbed with early morning vigor as the split plum head throbbed. Many of the Nine gifted her as she championed their names, this gift had been bestowed upon her by Dibella in gratitude of her services.

Lydia awoke with a low whine, her amber eyes slowly focusing on the sprawled form of Syndel in front of her, drawing her whine into a choked moan. Her hand, larger than Syndel’s, gripped the shaft above the Breton’s hand and her eyes widened, as still nearly half of the cock remained uncovered. Syndel’s eyelids dropped to slits and her lips curled into a smirk. “Good afternoon Lydia, glad to see you’re ready for brunch.”

Lydia ‘s cheeks colored to a bright red as she lifted her eyes from the cock to Syndel’s eyes before following the Breton’s hand as it released her cock to tangle in her dark curls and pull her forward. Pink, pouty lips smeared against the large drop of clear nectar precum dribbling from the cockhead slit, a red tongue slithered out to lap it off her lips before it lathed over the crown and bunched foreskin behind. Lydia drew herself up and draped herself over the Dovahkiin laid out leg, letting her firm breasts hug the slim muscled thigh from both sides while free hand reached below the cock, filling her strong palm and fingers with the smooth skinned sack that held the twin factories that produced the sweet and potent seed of Syndel, her fingers gently massaging them to full production. Meanwhile she continued to lick and slicken the upper third of her cock with her tongue, her other hand using a firm slow stroke on the lower half of the shaft.

Syndel propped herself up on an elbow, giving her the best view to watch Lydia eagerly work her cock. Fingers tightened their grip and moved her back to the tip and with a flick of her hips, pushed the plum sized head past her accepting lips and into her warm mouth. Both women moaned low, though Lydia’s moan was distorted by a mouthful of cockmeat, and Syndel continued to pull her woman cl

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