"What can't we do Wade? Are you saying we can't dry you off?" I teased."Oh God! You know damn well that's not what I'm saying Mags!" he replied and once more I witnessed the look in his eyes as he momentarily examined the curves of my breasts."Then what Wade?" I whispered, quickly adding, "Did you not once tell me you favoured the older woman? Or was it you were telling me fibs?" No! That's not it at all." he replied."Then just relax.!" I whispered as my left hand began stroking the towel back and forth over his chest.He leant back into the wall, as if thinking by doing so he'd move out of my reach. His eyes closed. I looked down at the towelling to see it nicely tented. I couldn't resist. I slid my hand over his tented outline and began stroking the towelling up and down his growing shaft."Please Maggie! Stop!" he moaned again, this time making a real attempt at pulling away.As he moved so I followed until, with nowhere else to go, I had him pinned into the corner of the bathroom.. The naga trained them brutally, teaching them how to fight, how to give pain, and how to endure it. Some even learned dread arts, magics that manipulated shadows. My heart beat faster as I pressed my knife against the tent’s canvas while listening.Snoring. Deep and rumbling. The warleader slept.Perfect.The dagger’s sharp tip pierced the canvas with a rasping whisper. With patience, I cut down, working through the thick cloth. My knife whisked. I paused after each sawing stroke, listening to the snoring. It stayed the same. Inch-by-inch, my blade sliced downward, making my entrance into the tent.Finished, the cloth swayed, loose.I crept through the hole and crouched just inside. Movement froze me. In the corner, a form uncurled, painted in the light from a small lantern hanging from the tent’s frame at its apex. A pale-skinned female body sat up, bushy hair spilling about narrow shoulders. A pair of triangular ears, tawny like her hair, thrust up at the top of her head and twitched.
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