InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hedonism ❯ You Can't Be Serious ( Chapter 28 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: abraxas_ren 
(Miroku/Kaede) [hj] S: Miroku's got a thing about old, old women/demonesses fondling him with their claws. Awarded 2nd Place @ Inuyasha Hedonism
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.10.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 460 | Visits: 592 | Status: Completed
(Miroku/Kaede) [hj] S: Miroku's got a thing about old, old women/demonesses fondling him with their claws. Awarded 2nd Place @ Inuyasha Hedonism
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.10.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 460 | Visits: 592 | Status: Completed
"You Can't Be Serious" by Abraxas (2008-12-06)
The very like was not the same but he learned to live with limitation. A stern, indifferent tone mixed with the humiliation of admonishment. A feeling that he - that it - was not special. Those parts of the act could be replicated yet others were beyond substitution.
Kaede sighed - she gazed at Miroku as if he were a wild, undisciplined child.
The monk's heart skipped a beat at the excitement the miko's reaction elicited.
"Put that away, Houshi, it'll get cold."
The man smiled. The woman was so unfazed it was incredible. The effect of age, he surmised, recalling the memory of that old, old woman. That demoness with her claws she seemed to understand everything and was not alarmed by his body.
Of course, she was the instigator - but - while he wanted to recapture all of it he settled with the essentials of the act. The rest were details.
"Does it offend you?"
She shrugged.
The monk laughed while the miko sipped.
He took her hand and placed it atop his soft, limp cock. She sighed then, as if to say 'there there' to a boy, petted it with the tip of her fingers. Rough, long nails scraped flesh. He trembled at the memory of claws. She watched the cock unfurl, little by little, growing into erection.
"Just...scratch me...scratch me like an itch," Miroku begged through groans of pleasure.
Kaede grunted confused by the fascination.
"I'm an old, old woman," she said.
"Yes - my fondest memories are of old, old women," he confessed.
"Maybe you want to be alone?"
Miroku gazed to watch Kaede's hand weakly almost shyly stroke the length of this shaft with her nails. He bit his lip to keep from wailing a moan to alert the village. She tickled his glans, probing its folds of flesh, exploring its shape, its function. All the while the nails worked like claws like when the demoness played with it.
"No, you're doing fine, Miko." He kissed her cheek. "Keep doing that...like that."
Raw with the marks of nails, Miroku's penis wept tears of red mix with drops of white.
Fragments of a moment, shattered by the fading of memory, that was all that was left of his very first time with a woman. The re-enactment was imperfect. But Kaede was the closest substitute of that demoness and with time and practice (and sharp long nails) it could be better.
(400)
The very like was not the same but he learned to live with limitation. A stern, indifferent tone mixed with the humiliation of admonishment. A feeling that he - that it - was not special. Those parts of the act could be replicated yet others were beyond substitution.
Kaede sighed - she gazed at Miroku as if he were a wild, undisciplined child.
The monk's heart skipped a beat at the excitement the miko's reaction elicited.
"Put that away, Houshi, it'll get cold."
The man smiled. The woman was so unfazed it was incredible. The effect of age, he surmised, recalling the memory of that old, old woman. That demoness with her claws she seemed to understand everything and was not alarmed by his body.
Of course, she was the instigator - but - while he wanted to recapture all of it he settled with the essentials of the act. The rest were details.
"Does it offend you?"
She shrugged.
The monk laughed while the miko sipped.
He took her hand and placed it atop his soft, limp cock. She sighed then, as if to say 'there there' to a boy, petted it with the tip of her fingers. Rough, long nails scraped flesh. He trembled at the memory of claws. She watched the cock unfurl, little by little, growing into erection.
"Just...scratch me...scratch me like an itch," Miroku begged through groans of pleasure.
Kaede grunted confused by the fascination.
"I'm an old, old woman," she said.
"Yes - my fondest memories are of old, old women," he confessed.
"Maybe you want to be alone?"
Miroku gazed to watch Kaede's hand weakly almost shyly stroke the length of this shaft with her nails. He bit his lip to keep from wailing a moan to alert the village. She tickled his glans, probing its folds of flesh, exploring its shape, its function. All the while the nails worked like claws like when the demoness played with it.
"No, you're doing fine, Miko." He kissed her cheek. "Keep doing that...like that."
Raw with the marks of nails, Miroku's penis wept tears of red mix with drops of white.
Fragments of a moment, shattered by the fading of memory, that was all that was left of his very first time with a woman. The re-enactment was imperfect. But Kaede was the closest substitute of that demoness and with time and practice (and sharp long nails) it could be better.
(400)