A huge fire blazed behind her, illuminating the silhouettes of reveling figures. Farme, with eyes like shimmering ice, slowly ran her hand over her tongue and drew a long stream of saliva down her breasts, between her raised legs. In some way, he held her in the air, and the blowing heat unbearably scorched their bodies. He looked directly into her eyes and impaled her on his member. Her moans merged with the sounds of the cheering Orc-women. He sped up and was about to climax when suddenly one of them caught his attention. She had anger and pain in her eyes. The defiant Chechi, drilling him with her gaze and muttering some quiet words under her breath. The dream suddenly broke, and at this crucial moment, it began to drift far, far away from the boy. Most of its delicate substance vanished, and he could no longer keep that small, precious remnant under his eyelids. The morning mists, rising and slowly dispersing over the river where he lay, cooled his flushed face and body. He would have sworn he could still feel the heat of the campfire. He sat up, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. And then they caught him.

  He tried to reach for the stick, but Narma kicked his wrist. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing for the whip with his other hand. Darma laughed, made a short movement with her hand, and her own weapon instantly wrapped around his prize, burning and cutting his skin. His fighting spirit hadn't abandoned him, and Dorky kept the weapon in his hand, then yanked the surprised Huntress towards him. She allowed herself to be pulled, then performed a short shoulder roll and landed her knees precisely in the crooks of both his elbows. This was possible because during this brief exchange of blows, the second twin leaped behind him and knocked him onto his back, tripping him and unceremoniously pulling his face with strong hands. He tried to bite. She was devilishly fast. Now she held him by the neck with her teeth, partly lying beneath him, out of reach. He had to concede defeat.

  His crushed hands hurt unbearably. The huntress's shins pressed them to the ground, and her butt, covered in thin leather shorts, rubbed against his pants, under which his member, still fully engorged from his dream-induced arousal, returned the pressure. The warmth and closeness of their bodies evoked a memory of the fire that seemed utterly out of place.

  "A pleasant surprise. The Little Fox wants to fight." Narma rasped.

  "Do you know, our dear simpleton, how easy it was to find you?" Darma triumphed, shifting slightly up and down, still kneeling on him. "Your necklace just broke off when you pushed through the first holly bush."

  The wild fox bone necklace dangled before his nose. Beyond its shape, he saw Darma's radiant face, a small bull-ring in her shapely nose, her long-lashed eyes, a scar at the corner of one. Her fangs gleamed, completing the image of strange, wild beauty.

  Narma gently bit his neck. Some dam in his soul and body broke, and though he tried to hold it back with all his might, curling his legs, he nevertheless ejaculated, simply soaked his pants, with one infinitely long groan. Darma stirred restlessly, her eyes wide, and with her mouth agape, she shifted her gaze several times, from behind her to her twin sister's face. Her consternation was interrupted by a pearly laugh:

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  "Well, well. You have interesting tastes, young man." Then she turned, this time to her sister, "Listen, Narma. After we hand him over to Babeno, who knows when he'll be available for use. I've developed a craving, you understand. Would you be so kind and go for a little walk?"

  "My sister's famished?" Narma teased her. "You can't last? And do you think he'll have the strength?"

  "I'm not worried about that. He's a young Little Fox, after all. You know how they are. Come on, off you go," she laughed, helping her to hoist herself from under the boy.

  A few movements of her hands to dust herself off, and she was out of their sight.

  "To be sure, I want to clarify a few things with you, young human," Darma said, tugging his pants down with one hand and unlacing her corset with the other. "I'll only say this once: if you try to escape, I'll flog you unconscious. If you climax too quickly, also. You will lick me, and I will hit you. Is that clear?"

  He tried to answer, but she surprised him by spitting a sweet stream of saliva that disappeared into his mouth. So he just nodded vigorously.

  The Orc-woman narrowed her eyes, adjusted her hair, then, taking her breasts out of her jacket, slid off his hands and slowly began to lick the semen from his still semi-erect, heated penis. Dorky couldn't believe what was happening, yet he absorbed every second with his whole being. The inside of her mouth was hot and full of saliva. The bull-ring in her nose and the additional adornments in her nipples stimulated his frenulum, and her strong, sweaty hands held his scrotum and member firmly at the base. Finally, it was time for a change, but not the one he expected. She looked at him over her shoulder and slowly slid down her shorts. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the stream of slippery, crystal-clear mucus connecting the fabric and her femininity, shaved on the sides and bottom. With a dog-like whimper, he clung to her and plunged into her juices. After a few timid breaths, he lost control. He couldn't stop himself. He ran his hands all over her body, spreading mucus and his saliva. He put his tongue into her pussy and butt, fingered and fisted, groped and spread her buttocks to rest his face on the trembling and quivering jewel between her legs. At the same time, the wild woman, panting gutturally and emitting satisfied, leonine growls, sucked his cock with clenched lips, taking him as deep as she could, then tilted her head and released him from the corner of her mouth with a loud smack. Satisfied, she tossed her hair aside, turned, and kissed him deeply, then gestured for him to get on all fours.

  He thanked the gods he had already come earlier. Otherwise, he would never have been able to last so long with her. Her incredible backside, presented to him in all its glory, glistening with sweat, saliva, and juices, flowing in trickles almost to her knees, her narrow waist and the shape of her hips, so perfectly graspable, with all his strength, with his hands. The poetry of her wild movements, the overwhelming aroma of femininity, the gallop through the thorny thickets, the swirling thoughts, memories, feelings, the murmur of the stream, the hot breath from the wasteland, the embers cracking from the heat in the fire, the magma erupting from the depths of the earth.

  He climaxed for a long time, roaring and howling like a wild animal. Darma looked at him with approval, resting with narrowed eyes and a bent arm under her head.

  Dorky’s exhausted head found its rest on her thigh, gently kissing her salty, green, smooth skin. He sighed with gratitude and adoration. She didn't know it, but she was his first girl, and that morning she imprinted herself forever on his young heart.