In the bustling city of Novigrad, where the scent of the sea mingled with the rich aromas of market stalls, an air of anticipation hung over the Grand Masters Gwent tournament. As the sun rose over the horizon, casting a golden hue over the narrow streets, players from all corners of the continent flocked to the prestigious event, their eyes gleaming with a fierce determination to claim the grand prize that awaited the triumphant victor.
The tournament, spanning over three exhilarating days, had drawn the attention of both seasoned professionals and ambitious newcomers alike, all vying for the substantial purse that awaited the ultimate champion. Within the confines of the grand hall of the Passiflora where the event was to be held, the unmistakable shuffling of cards and murmurs of strategy echoed off the walls, creating a backdrop that intensified as the hours ticked closer to the commencement of the games.
Among the throng of competitors stood Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher of legendary renown who bore the marks of a life steeped in peril. His steel-gray hair framed a face chiseled by countless battles. His yellow cat-like eyes, a result of his mutation, held a piercing gaze that unveiled he was a mutant. His fame, born of his enigmatic and vagabond nature, captivated the crowds.
As Geralt traversed the vast lands of The Continent, a lone warrior, taking on contracts to rid towns and villages of the monsters that plagued them, the mythology around him grew. The legend of Geralt of Rivia was a mosaic of contradictions, a reflection of the complexities that defined him. To some, he was a hero, a defender of the helpless; in a world where monsters destroyed villages and safe passage, Witchers were the answer, saving townsfolk and eliminating spectral threats. To others, he was a monster no different than the ones he hunted, a figure void of compassion with deeds bathed in money and blood. Geralt was known throughout the continent, far and wide, as a skilled fighter, a master of Gwent, and his notorious penchant for indulging in lecherous pleasures. His infamy became woven into the tales and songs that echoed through the taverns and villages of The Continent.
But Geralt was not interested in fame, he was on a quest to find Ciri, his adopted daughter imbued with powerful magical abilities. His intuition sensed she was in trouble, relentlessly pursued by the Wild Hunt, an otherworldly force with dark intentions. The spectral horde haunted Geralt’s dreams, he was determined to do whatever it took to protect Ciri from their clutches.
That is what brought him here to Novigrad. In an unexpected twist of fate, Geralt found himself forming an uneasy alliance with Emhyr var Emreis, the Emperor of the Nilfgaardian Empire…and Ciri's father. With a common goal to locate Ciri, Geralt found himself pulled into the political machinations of kings and kingdoms, a world far removed from the solitary life of a Witcher. A world filled with espionage and deceit. Emyhr’s spy network had indicated Ciri was last seen in Novigrad. As Geralt searched for Ciri, one clue leading to the next, he soon discovered that she had fled to the island of Skellige, a dangerous remote island that fetched a hefty purse to get to.
Amidst the chaos and dangers of his quest, Geralt discovered a gambling card game known as Gwent, which he played to earn additional coin for equipment. Game after game he honed his strategic prowess, becoming a formidable opponent in Gwent tournaments across the land. Villages would buzz with excitement when the white-haired Witcher arrived, not only for the monsters he would slay but also for the chance to challenge him in a game of Gwent. So when Geralt learned about the tournament and the large purse it offered he knew it was the key needed for passage to Skellige so he could continue his search for Ciri, a purpose that sharpened his determination to win.
On the morning of the Grand Master Gwent Tournament, his arrival to Passiflora was reacted to with a mix of suspicion and celebrity, earning him both wary glances and nods of respect from his fellow participants. But Geralt remained unphased, his stoic focus and meticulously organized deck reflected his preparation for the strategic battles that lay ahead. As he surveyed the competition, a glint of anticipation flickered within him.
Chapter 2: Sasha
"Mind if I join you?" a young woman asked, her voice carrying a hint of confidence as she eyed Geralt's meticulously arranged deck. With her dark hair pulled into a decorative bun and dressed with pearls and lace, she exuded an air of mystery that immediately intrigued Geralt. "I've heard you're quite the formidable player."
Geralt sized her up, impressed by her boldness. "I play some. You know your way around a deck, I assume?" he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. He gestured for her to take a seat. "I don't mind the company, as long as you don't mind losing to me."
She chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and determination. "We'll see about that," she teased, shuffling her cards with practiced finesse.
"Have you been playing for a long?" He asked, admiring the way her elegantly painted fingernails shuffled and cut the cards with precision and care.
Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Let's just say, I don't lose often,” she paused, taking in the handsome cat-eyed Witcher, “I am rather surprised to see a Witcher here. Is there an evil monster in our midst?" she teased, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of playfulness.
"I don’t detect any monsters but I haven’t ruled any of these stiffs out,” he joked motioning to the throngs of people in the inn.
Her laughter captivated Geralt's attention, drawing a smile to his lips in response. Her eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Geralt, I must say you have a way with words. My name is Sasha," she introduced herself, her voice a smooth blend of velvet and silk, each syllable delivered with a subtle, alluring charm.
“Nice to meet you, Sasha,” he said. “No ulterior motives here, I was I. Town for business and wanted to test out my new cards…. and my luck," Geralt replied, his eyes subtly taking in her regal attire and the alluring curves visible beneath her dress.
"The game is as much about the cards as it is about your opponents. Do you know about the other players at the tournament?" she inquired, her gaze shifting from the cards to Geralt's face.
He shook his head, a flicker of intrigue crossing his features. Turning around, he leaned against the bar, taking in the bustling atmosphere of the Passiflora. The low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses provided a lively backdrop to the intensity of the Gwent matches unfolding around them. The warm glow of candles cast a soft light on the elegant decor, adding an air of sophistication to the venue.
"Not really, tell me," Geralt replied, his gaze shifting to the other players who exuded confidence in their own unique ways.
Sasha leaned in slightly, her voice carrying the scent of a delicate perfume that entwined with the heady atmosphere of the room. As she detailed each player, her expressive gestures highlighted the significance of their unique strategies, drawing Geralt's attention to the intricate dynamics at play.
"Bernard Tulle, the halfling, might seem like a simple corn farmer, but there is clearly something he is hiding," she explained, her words accentuated by the subtle rise and fall of her melodic tones.
"Finneas, the elf, is renowned for his almost clairvoyant ability to anticipate his opponent's next moves, making him a force to be reckoned with," she continued, her gaze locked on Geralt's face, her intrigue mirroring his.
As she described Count Tybalt's undefeated reputation and his known strategies, Geralt found it hard to ignore the alluring scent enveloping Sasha, or the gentle sway of her silhouette that drew his eyes to her cleavage, stirring a dormant arousal within him.
He couldn't help but hope for more than just an engaging game of gwent as he absorbed the details of the competition, feeling a magnetic pull toward this enigmatic woman beside him.
"You seem to know a lot about your opponents," Geralt said. He eyed the enigmatic and beautiful woman suspiciously.
Sasha met Geralt's gaze with a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "It's always wise to know one's competition, wouldn't you agree?" she replied, her tone light yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of confidence.
As she leaned back in her seat, Geralt admired her. He sensed there was something special about this woman.
As the announcement of the qualifying rounds reverberated through the bustling inn, Sasha extended a genuine wish of good luck to Geralt, a subtle twinkle in her eye betraying a shared excitement for the upcoming challenge. Her words carried a warmth that lingered, prompting Geralt to act on his impulse before she departed.
"Say, how about a friendly game of Gwent later? My treat for dinner if you win," he proposed, a playful glint dancing in his own eyes as he made the offer.
Sasha's lips curled into a subtle smile, her amber eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and interest. "Ah, trying to get a feel of your competition, are we?" Sasha's voice teased.
“In more ways than one,” he said, his words tumbling from his mouth as his eyes traced the elegant curves of her body.
As her eyes connected with his, she felt heat rising within her, his directness catching her off-guard, making her blush. At that moment, all she could imagine was being in his embrace, his strong hands gently gliding over her skin. Her gaze met his with a mischievous glint. "You're on Geralt but a real gentleman takes a woman to dinner on their first date and when I play Gwent I always play for stakes, it makes the game more fun," she said.
Geralt chuckled, his lips curling into a wry grin. "Fair enough. You've got yourself a deal. Dinner and entertainment," he confirmed, enjoying the banter and the underlying excitement that seemed to thicken the air between them. With a subtle nod, they each returned their focus to the bustling surroundings, anticipation already building for their impending encounter at the card table.
In the ensuing hours, as Geralt deftly secured his place in the upcoming tournament, his attention would occasionally stray to Sasha, noticing her subtle yet deliberate glances in his direction. The air between them crackled with a tension that hinted at the possibility of something more than mere competition on the horizon.
Chapter 3: The Friendly Match
Geralt and Sasha's interactions were lighthearted and filled with subtle flirtation. After dinner, they sat down to play Gwent in a cozy corner of the inn, the atmosphere was charged with playful tension. The candlelight flickered, casting warm glows on their faces as they shuffled their decks of cards.
Geralt reclined, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he surveyed the cards in his hand, confidence radiating from his every move. "How about a little wager? If I emerge victorious, you join me for a drink in my room. But should you win, I'll present you with my finest bottle of wine."
Sasha arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Upping the stakes, are we? I do have a soft spot for a fine bottle of wine. You've got yourself a deal, Witcher."
Their eyes locked in a playful challenge as they embarked on their friendly match. Sasha's nimble fingers danced over the cards, her confidence evident in every graceful move. Geralt, typically a formidable opponent, found himself admiring her skill.
Sasha's laughter echoed like a siren's call, her teasing banter and quick wit keeping Geralt on his toes. "You're not as tough as they say, Geralt," she taunted with a sly grin. "Maybe I should take you for a ride."
Geralt responded with a low, rumbling chuckle. "I didn’t realize that was an option for the winning prize. Sounds like a lot more fun than just a drink in my room.”
Sasha blushed, her smile revealing a subtle play on words. “Oh my! I guess if I play my cards right I can win more than some wine from the Great Gerat.”
“So you think I'm great, huh?” he said, a playful edge in his tone. Observing her closely, he could see her blush, her face flushed and her heartbeat racing at his declaration. He watched as she shifted in her seat, refocused on her strategy as she arranged her cards. “I see you've got some tricks up your sleeve…but I have a feeling I will still end up on top when this match is over."
“I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?” she said, feeling the heat rise.
“You have no idea,” he responded, his gaze lingering with an undeniable intensity.
Their exchange was filled with playful jabs and flirty innuendos, making it clear that the Gwent game was just a prelude to a more intimate battle of wits between them. As the evening wore on, the chemistry between Geralt and Sasha only grew stronger, setting the stage for what would come next.
As the cards were laid and the final move was made, Sasha's victorious smirk told the tale. "Looks like your finest wine is mine," she teased, her eyes sparkling with triumph.
Geralt chuckled, his admiration for her growing with each passing moment. "I don't think I've met anyone with such skill in Gwent. You truly are something else."
Sasha leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly tapping the tabletop. "Oh, I have my tricks, but I think you were just being nice. You're not so bad yourself, Witcher. So when will I get this bottle of wine you promised me?" she asked, hoping to see him again as the night was nearing an end.
“I have it up in my room if you care to come up for a nightcap,” he said with a suggestive smile.
“Maybe you are bad after all, Geralt,” she said, eyeing him with suspicion.
Geralt's gaze held a subtle intensity, a magnetic pull between them. "You might find that bad can be quite enticing." The air thickened with unspoken desire as he stood, gesturing for her to join him.
As they strolled down the dimly lit hallway, Sasha's mind raced with anticipation. The closeness between them was palpable, each step carrying a growing sense of intimacy. When they reached his door, Geralt invited her in. The room was softly lit, casting a warm glow that enveloped them as they stepped inside. As the door closed behind them, she felt a surge of excitement.
Geralt retrieved the promised bottle of wine and returned with a glass of the same wine he decanted earlier, his hand brushing against hers as he handed it over. “Tell me what you think?” he said. Sasha took a moment to breathe in the atmosphere, the scent of Geralt's musk mingling with the faint aroma of the red wine.
She swirled the contents of the glass, the wine's long legs dripped lazily down the side of the glass. With a clink of their glasses, she took a sip of the silky smooth, rich, and, full-bodied liquid. “Mmm,” she said looking up at him, “This wine is as smooth as your touch, Geralt.”
Their eyes met, and in that instant, the tension between them reached its peak. With a gentle touch, Geralt guided her closer, his hand cupping her cheek as their lips met in a tender, sensual, kiss. In that embrace, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating energy that pulsed between them.
Sasha's gaze met his, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. "Are witchers any different from regular men?" her voice was laced with mischief.
Geralt leaned back slightly, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I suppose there's only one way to find out."
A naughty smile tugged at Sasha's lips as she bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze locked with his. Her delicate fingers traced the contours of his chest, eliciting a shiver of anticipation as they danced over the hardened muscles beneath his shirt.
With a boldness that matched her seductive allure, her touch traveled further, her hand lingering over his thick arousal, the heat of her palm searing through the fabric of his leather studded pants. "Oh, Geralt," she murmured between kisses, her voice a breathy whisper that betrayed her mounting desire. Her hands teasing and tantalizing as she continued to stroke him.
Sasha's hands worked their way across the intricate fastenings of Geralt's armor, each piece yielding to her touch with a soft clink, unveiling a layer of his chiseled, war-torn physique. As the last piece of armor fell away, the soft glow of the room's dim lighting caressed the rugged contours of his body, emphasizing his long jagged scars and chiseled muscles. Sasha's gaze lingered on the powerful lines of his chest, the rippling strength of his arms, and the hardened determination etched into every inch of his being.
Geralt stood before her, bared and vulnerable, his battle-hardened exterior a testament to the resilience that coursed through his veins. Sasha's fingers traced the hem of his underwear and slowly pulled them down as she descended to the floor. Sasha's sharp intake of breath betrayed her awe at the sight of his undeniable arousal, his impressive size and girth a testament to the raw power that pulsed through his veins.
Her gaze was fixed on his manhood, hanging low and heavy before her, as it slowly stirred to life in response to the heady atmosphere. The rhythmic pulse of arousal coursed through his veins, each vein tracing a path along his manhood like a map of passion waiting to be explored, her lips parting in anticipation as she hungrily took in the sight before her.
Sasha's delicate hands traced the lines of his thick flesh as it stiffened in her hand, her fingers exploring every ridge and contour with a reverence that betrayed her unbridled desire. As her lips found their mark, she placed gentle, teasing kisses along the length of him, each touch igniting a primal response within him. Geralt's breath hitched, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the sensation of her soft wet tongue licked his shaft teasingly.
Her tongue danced along his length, tracing each pulsing vein with a hunger that matched his own. Sasha's warm wet mouth enveloped him, her lips wrapping around his mushroom-tipped flesh creating a rhythmic dance that coursed through every fiber of his being. With each languid stroke, she savored the salty taste of him, the way the ridges of his thick cock opened her mouth, filling her senses.
“Mmm, yeah just like that, Sasha,” Geralt said as he stood watching her try to consume his entire manhood, her lips wrapped around his cock.
Geralt's hands moved to her head, his fingers intertwining with the soft strands of her hair as her small hands slid up and down his manhood, her head pressed deeper and deeper onto him. The sensation of her mouth, the heat of her breath, and the gentle press of her lips sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body. With each second, he felt himself growing even more taut, his muscles coiled with the intensity of the moment. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps as he surrendered to the dizzying sensations coursing through him.
Eager to explore every inch of her, Geralt beckoned Sasha to her feet. Gently he pulled her hair, her mouth breaking its suction from his cock. As the suction broke, Geralt let out a low, primal growl that resonated within the depths of his chest. His eyes fixated on Sasha, on her knees, and succumbed to her insatiable thirst for his manhood. He couldn't help but grin, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in satisfaction as he watched the thin ropes of saliva that still connected her wet lips to his glistening cock, a tangible representation of the hunger that burned between them.
With a hand firmly entwined in her hair, he guided her up to him, wordlessly communicating his intent. His other hand trailed along the delicate curve of her spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. The electric current that crackled between them only intensified as he tugged her closer, his mouth descending upon hers in a fiery embrace that left no room for doubt or hesitation.
Chapter 4: Unwrapping his prize
As Geralt’s skilled hands deftly slid the straps of her dress slowly off her shoulders, Sasha's breath hitched in anticipation. The fabric cascaded down her body like a silken waterfall, pooling at her feet in a delicate heap, unveiling the smooth, flawless expanse of her skin.
Her body was a masterpiece, each curve and contour of her milky flesh a testament to her femininity. Her skin, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly radiance. He marveled at the softness of her flesh, the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the gentle sway of her hips. With a tenderness that belied his strength, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly as he carried her to the bed.
The sheets welcomed her like a lover's embrace, and as he laid her down, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. Geralt's touch was deliberate, his hands tracing a fiery path along her skin, igniting a trail of longing in their wake.
"Gods, you're beautiful, Sasha," he murmured, his lips trailing a path of gentle kisses along her neck. His hands traversed the landscape of her body, each touch a symphony of pleasure that left her breathless with anticipation. His fingers found her firm breasts, their taut peaks yielding to his touch, eliciting a series of pleasurable gasps that escaped from her lips in a fervent chorus of ecstasy. As he explored the curves of her form, Sasha's body trembled with desire and need.
His hand traced a path down her thigh, parting her legs to reveal the pulsating heat that beckoned to be explored. Geralt's palm, resting at the apex between Sasha's inner thigh, felt the intoxicating heat of her arousal, the slick wetness of her sex coating his fingers in a silken sheen that spoke of a longing yearning to be quenched. With expert precision, he parted the layers of her arousal revealing her sensual secrets.
Her hips rocked in time with the passionate rhythm of his touch, her moans growing in both intensity and volume, each vocal exhalation a testament to the mounting pleasure that coursed through her veins. Sensations of overwhelming ecstasy overtook her, her body trembling with an urgent need that seemed to demand release.
As Geralt's mouth engulfed her firm breast, his teeth grazing her sensitive nipple with a delicate yet firm pressure, Sasha's body arched in response to the overwhelming surge of pleasure that coursed through her. Each tug and each suckle sent waves of pleasure rippling through her.
His fingers, slick with her arousal, found her entrance with skillful precision, slowly inching their way inside as she gasped in response to the invasion. With a deliberate curl of his fingers, he pressed deeper, her inner walls embracing his touch with an urgent need that bordered on a fervent plea for more. His fingers moved in and out of her faster and faster, sending an electric pulse through her core. His thumb gently caressed the space between her labia, the clitoral stimulation causing her to vocalize her pleasure.
“Oh…oh…mmm, you're so skilled with your fingers, Geralt,” she said, her body purring with satisfaction. “Oh gods, oh my…I’m…I’m…”
Sasha's scream pierced the air, her passions reaching a fever pitch as the waves of ecstasy crashed over her in an unyielding tide of pleasure. Her body convulsed in a whirlwind of sensation, every nerve alight with an overwhelming need that threatened to consume her whole, her voice a symphony of rapture and longing that echoed through the intimate space they shared.
"Gods, you're hot!" Geralt groaned, his voice thick with desire as he reveled in the intensity of their shared passion.
As her body trembled in the throes of ecstasy, Sasha surrendered to the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure that enveloped her, her voice rising in a primal chorus of moans and gasps that mirrored the relentless fervor of their shared desire. "Oh, Geralt, I need to feel you in me!" she cried out.
"I promise, you will feel me," he replied, his voice thick with desire as he rose before her, his commanding presence casting a spell of primal longing and unbridled passion. His cock, throbbing with an intensity that mirrored the fiery heat of their shared desire, pulsed with a potent urgency that seemed to demand her surrender.
Chapter 5: The White Wolf
Sasha reclined on the bed, the folds of the silk sheets she laid on scattered in different directions like rays of light shining on an angel. Her body presented to him in a mesmerizing display of wanton surrender. Her legs lay stacked on top of one another, bent at the hip, offering him unobstructed access to her round, supple rump. The soft, delicate skin of her ass seemed to glow in the ambient light.
His gaze traveled downward, tracing the gentle curve of her back as it gave way to the swell of her hips. Between her thighs, the delicate folds of her femininity, her flesh glistened with a sheen of anticipation.
As he positioned himself before her, his length poised at the brink of her eager entrance, Sasha waited in anticipation. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling in sync with the rhythm of her mounting excitement, her eyes locked onto his with a fierce intensity that spoke of her readiness to embrace whatever pleasures he had to offer.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed into her, the girth of his rigid flesh spreading her lips apart, her wetness enveloping him in a slick embrace. As the thick helmet of his manhood slid into her, Sasha felt her soft, velvety flesh sheath his thick shaft in a tight embrace. Her hips bowed to the force of his entry, her supple flesh yielded to him, her every nerve igniting in pleasure as her body quivered. As he filled her, inch by inch, Sasha felt every ridge of his unyielding cock, every pulsating vein along his girth, enveloping her in a whirlwind of sensation.
“Ohhh, oh Gerlat, I feel you in me! Oh gods, you're so thick!” she sputtered, absorbed in the pleasure she could not contain.
Her howl of pleasure echoed through the room, a symphony of ecstasy and longing that seemed to pierce the air with a fervent intensity. As he found his mark, his cock pressing squarely into her G-spot with an expert precision that left her quivering with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and need. Each thrust, each movement a testament to the unyielding ardor that pulsed between them. With every stroke, every plunge, he seemed to unlock a floodgate of ecstasy within her, her body arching in response to the unbridled pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her senses.
“Oh, fuck, oh yes, fuck me, Geralt!" she gasped, her voice a fervent invocation of desire that filled the air around them. Her hands, gripping the bedsheets above her head, clung to the fabric as if trying to anchor herself to the reality of the moment. Her body writhed beneath him, a dance of anticipation and longing.
Geralt answered her plea with a low, guttural growl that reverberated through his chest. "You want me, don't you, Sasha?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. His hands, rough and calloused, traced the delicate curve of her waist, the touch a testament to the hunger that burned within him. "You want all of me?" he teased.
"Yes, Geralt, all of you," she moaned, the words escaping her lips in a breathless cascade of need. Her body welcomed him eagerly, each inch of his girth met with a gasp of pleasure that rippled through her. "I want all of you in me, every last inch," she continued, her hips arching to meet his, a silent invitation for him to claim her completely.
With a primal need that matched her own, he positioned himself above her, "You're mine, Sasha," he declared, his voice a potent declaration of possession. As Geralt's thick cock plunged deep into Sasha's quivering depths, she felt him travel through her deepest depths, her sensitive flesh yielding to him with a fierce intensity. The suddenness of his entry took her by surprise, her insides being filled rapidly to accommodate his massive tool. With each thrust, she felt her hips opening to welcome him, her inner walls enveloping him in a tight embrace that seemed to echo the depths of her desire.
Moans deep from her core escaped her lips as she gripped the linens, her eyes shut, her hair sprawled out as she revealed in the ecstasy brewing between her thighs. “Oh yes Sasha, I can see it on your face. You love this don't you?”
In the wake of his powerful thrust, Sasha's voice rose in a crescendo of pleasure and raw sensation. As she was filled to the brim with his girth, her body trembling with a fervent hunger. "Fuck, yes Geralt, you feel so good inside me," she gasped.
"Beg for it, beg for me to fuck you harder," he commanded, his voice a potent mixture of authority and arousal as he allowed himself to be consumed by the fervor of the moment. The sharp crack of his hand meeting her ass reverberated through the room, a testament to the force of his desire and the intensity of their connection. She gasped, her body quivering in response to the sudden sting, a mix of pain and pleasure that only served to heighten the intoxicating fervor that enveloped them.
"Ah... oh, yes, yes!" she gasped, her voice a mixture of need and pleasure, each syllable punctuated by the rhythmic collision of their bodies. "Oh…yes..give me more! Fuck me! Fuck me harder with your big cock!" she begged, the words drawn out in a chorus of ecstasy as he delved deeper into her.
Sasha's moans grew more urgent, punctuating each of Geralt's thrusts. Their bodies moved together in a symphony of desire, the sound of their bodies colliding reverberating off the walls like a primal drumbeat. The slap of their flesh, the creak of the bed frame beneath them, the mingled gasps and moans that filled the air.
With every thrust, she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure that radiated from their connection, her moans growing in intensity as he drove her closer and closer to the brink. "Oh, Geralt, yes.. right there…I’m so close!" she screamed as he unleashed the full force, his hips pounding into her as he held her in place to receive him fully.
Each thrust sent shockwaves rippling through her. In the throes of passion, Sasha found herself adrift in a sea of unspoken longing and raw Desiree, drawing closer to the precipice of ecstasy. “Geralt, I am cumming!” Sasha screamed, her voice rose in an operatic chorus that filled the room, her voice reaching its pinnacle just moments before her body convulsed in an explosive orgasm. Waves of pleasure crashed over her like a relentless tide, her senses consumed by an exquisite rapture that threatened to carry her away on a wave of unspoken bliss. With each shuddering breath, she felt the intensity of her release wash over her.
At that very moment, with a guttural groan, Geralt's body tensed, every muscle coiling in anticipation of his climax. He buried himself deep within her, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he approached the pinnacle of his desire. A surge of pleasure coursed through him, radiating from his core and spreading outward, consuming him in a white-hot ecstasy that seemed to transcend the physical realm. He shuddered as his release overtook him, his body pulsing with each powerful throb, spilling into her in an eruption of pent-up passion. As he emptied himself, he collapsed on her, their bodies still entwined in the aftermath of their shared ecstasy. “I told you I would be on top,” he said with a smirk before showing her in kisses.