"Gobble me, my Lord."

Had he heard that rightly? He couldn't be sure. What did she mean? My Lord? Again? Then gobble me? The semantic stance of the word was not the problem. Twas pretty far from that. Twas more of the pain of the stance of its stray. Of course he was a poet and was familiar with quite the meanings of words. Gobble was not a mill around his neck. It shouldn't be. He tried to focus. He had simply been belatedly disappointed. He didn't know how to take it. Whether to take it with joy or to ignore. He was beginning to be the product of his own fantasy in the world of fantasy. Of course there was no stray to that. He actually was not new to that. He was just being a little bit of a faker skin upon the realization of what was happening. He didn't want to prune hypotheses. They weren't so apt and wouldn't be his best option. His patience was being smothered. His rage was being rusticated. The rage of it not being a test. He had thought that he had scaled through a test. Hell wrong he was. He wasn't even close it. Or to say, she wasn't meaning what he did have in mind. That made him feel a little stupid. Then her voice came again. Of course it met him unprepared.

"Have me to yourself."

He was beginning to make meaning of everything. He was beginning to understand the stance. He was beginning to see from what frame of reference the Nymph had been speaking. He didn't actually have a contention with what might be. The contention was whether or not he was really ready for. He didn't even know what he was ready for ever again. He was simply a pawn. He kept eyes on the Nymph. Her eyes were demanding. He could suck that from them. The urgency was real and of course not remote. He didn't know what to do. He had of course made meaning of what the Nymph meant. But he didn't know with what to start. He knew what the Nymph meant. That was her own way of saying, have sex with me. He actually didn't know on what stance. Sex for what reason? He couldn't really be sure. But of course he remembered that he'd fallen for her the first time he did see her. He'd simply fallen and didn't think anything wrong about it. Why would she want to have sex with him. As though his thoughts were transparent, she picked her discourse after waiting for quite the long time and snapped at his thought:

"I'll have you then. Don't you know that I know your thought. You want me but wouldn't say. And I want you more."

Before he could hewn some syllables, she was already all over him. Firstly her hand swept straightly under his hood and made for his erection. She had a feel of it as the erection, at alert, did awake to behold the intruder of course. She looked into his eyes conscious of whatever he wanted and kept on her voyage. As she removed her hand from beneath the hood she halted and spoke again. Well, he countered what she was going to say:

"You can read my thoughts? And you've fallen for me?"

She pushed him on the bed at those questions as she knelt over him, having his body between her knees. Her taunting tits drooped and were going to touch his lips. Of course his lips were hungry but he needed time to make sure he was sane and knew what time had supplanted and featured him into. He didn't want to be the pawn of time. Never again. She made for her words as she played her hands around the region of his erection. Of course she was taunting him. But of course twasnt outta purpose. She was doing it on purpose. She wanted to provoke him to squeezing the hell of her tits and driving his erections through her well. He knew he wanted it badly, but he was proving all strong. A part of him thought that was the best thing to do. Another part thought he was yet in the trance. Like he was being tested. Like twas some trained temptation. And he was caught in some claws. He didn't know which to believe. He was trying to help himself to his apt acumen, but efforts were mocked by the taunting Nymph. He kept ignoring the odds. He made himself savor so many a thoughts. He kept his thoughts upright. He had been with a priest all his life back on earth, that should count. He should be able to manage things of course. At least some of the tricks pricked would be elevated. Her words came again.

"Yes... No!"

Then why? She wasn't in love with him and wanted to have sex with him? Twas quite nauseating to him, but she was already at work. He used to think ladies were subjects of sex. Like they couldn't live without it. But he got to realize that the Nymphs were worst than the ladies. They were cougars. He could say that again. No sooner he made a stance in his thoughts, than she removed his hood and had her palms of his chest, running the blood surging through the spines. She was using her hands as the hose as she brought her mouth closer to his. Then he realized that he was no longer in some tamed trance. Rustic reality had caught up with him, and he simply couldn't deny that. Why would he? How could he deny that? She nozzled his lips her nose and and crooned. He had no idea what she was saying. But he knew that twas quite the coded. She sucked his cheeks with her lips. And then she sucked his lips. He didn't want to respond, but damn, she was trained. Her tongues were curious and ruthless. Twas as though she would cut his mouth out in a bite. He was obviously in an Utopia. Then she stopped! Damn! How cruel she was. Though she was still having him laying between her dripping wet knees.