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Mother Knows Best

by Zalanthe


◊ Chapter 1

It is often stated that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but Zalanthe would have never believed such a notion could apply to her birthplace, Feathermoon Stronghold. Yet now, as she leaned out over the rail of the elven vessel that carried her across the waters from the mainland forests of Feralas to the docks of the Kal’dorei holdfast, she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of seeing old familiar faces, of the morning mists that drifted between the massive conifers, and of seeing her mother again after eight years of absence.

The wind shifted and set the sails above to booming as the boat coasted across the waves toward the island, and Zalanthe absently reached up to untie the leather thong that held her emerald-hued hair in check, letting it billow even as the sails did. The elf leaned into that breeze and breathed in deeply, her smile turning into an anxious grin; even something as simple as the salt tang of the ocean triggered recollection and sentiment – idly fishing from the docks, swimming by moonlight alone (or with a lover!), even pitched hand-to-hand combat amidst the crashing tidewaters with the Hatecrest naga that presumably still occupied the southern reaches of the island.

As the boat’s crew, elves dressed in the simple garb of ferrymen, brought their charge through its circuitous turn around the isle and straightened it for a final approach, Zalanthe tapped her fingers anxiously against the railing as the familiar sight of the undulating wooden dock came into view. Eight years… for how little time that was to one of her kind, she felt as though she’d been gone a lifetime. She had left as a skilled but nervous knife-fighter, anxious to venture forth, gain her independence, and prove herself. She returned now as a hired blade of (she hoped) at least some small renown, with the physical skills and know-how to take on all manner of contracts. Spying, murder, espionage, goods retrieval (whether her client truly owned the items in question or not), she’d done it all. Yet, somehow she felt… unfulfilled. As though she’d been counting time… or gold coins, for the work did pay well.

As the ship slid to a slow, creaking halt at the end of the dock, Zalanthe expelled her breath dismissively and dispelled her wandering thoughts. The time for idle introspection was past; she was home again. Slinging her lightweight, waterproof traveling pack over her shoulder, the night elf eschewed the gangplank and hopped nimbly over the railing to land lightly upon the weathered boards of the dock. As she followed it towards the town’s inn, to which it was connected, she nodded in passing to one of the two Sentinels on guard duty, then stopped as a flicker of recognition passed between the two. The latter’s eyes lit up, and she set her deadly glaive against a post and stepped forward with a happy cry, throwing her arms about the newcomer’s shoulders.

“Zalanthe! Elune be praised, you’ve returned!” the Sentinel exclaimed as she pressed herself close, her lightweight armor rustling and clinking noisily as she embraced the surprised elf.

Zalanthe, for her part, was momentarily confused, trying to place a face to a name. “Kaylinna?” she ventured carefully. “But… I don’t remember you being a Sentinel.”

As the newly identified elf pulled back, Zalanthe swallowed a bit nervously, her eyes traveling over the girl’s armored form. Those same high, perky breasts, those wide hips, more so than your average night elf’s, the thin lips that nevertheless pouted so wonderfully… not two minutes returned, and already she’d nearly tripped over a one-night stand. She tried not to let her embarrassment show, but privately she wondered if perhaps turning around and hopping back aboard that ship might not be a bad idea.

“I’m glad you remember me,” Kaylinna said in a voice that edged towards reproach, those lips pouting just as Zalanthe had remembered. “You bolted out of here so quickly after our tryst, I thought I’d seen the last of you.” Hands on hips, the Sentinel gave her a stern look that had her just about ready to bolt again, until she saw the twinkle in the girl’s eyes.

Laughing a bit uneasily, Zalanthe dragged one foot against the dock and replied, “Well, um… it wasn’t anything you did. I…” She searched for the right words, “I had to see more of the world than just this little island.”

Eyebrows raised as she gave the wayward elf a skeptical look, Kaylinna stepped forward and reached down with a gloved hand to drum her fingers lightly against the crotch of Zalanthe’s laced leather leggings. Her voice was breathy, “I see. Have you returned to us more… worldly?”

The amused smirk on her face was suddenly replaced by a look of surprise as she pressed her hand down firmly between Zalanthe’s thighs, feeling the already awakening hardness there, straining against the rough material. “Oh!” She tilted her head downward to look at what she had felt, noting that Zalanthe’s member was extending partway down her right leg. When her gaze rose again, her sly grin had joined it for a return engagement. “My, how you’ve grown,” she teased.

Zalanthe squirmed, feeling a blush rise that stained the wine color of her cheeks a deeper purple. Her mouth was open slightly as she searched for the words that would extricate her from this chance meeting with her dignity intact… and then fortune smiled upon her.

“Kaylinna” her guard partner snapped from her position on the other side of the dock, “quit shirking your post. You can have your fun off duty.”

Kaylinna snatched her hand back from Zalanthe’s crotch as though she’d touched a hot poker, and she looked abashed. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied weakly, her embarrassment matching Zalanthe’s as she stooped to retrieve her glaive and stepped back to her position. She glanced back at dumbfounded elf, however, the twinkle returning to her eyes, “You heard her,” she said, her voice carrying the sound of a wink, “I’ll have to have my fun with you off duty.”

Thoroughly discomfited, Zalanthe laughed softly to cover it, and nodded her farewell, her steps carrying her quickly toward the inn. As she made her escape, she heard Kaylinna’s voice call out from over her shoulder, “Sneak away again and I’ll hunt you down this time!”body on display for any who might pass through the woods.


◊ Chapter 2

“Now take them off.”

The feminine voice, more than a hint of command tinting it, drifted into Zalanthe’s consciousness, and she was suddenly aware of her old room. How had she ended up here already? She’d only just arrived!

Her mother Cellia sat on her bed wearing a simply-patterned green-and-brown sundress, arms clasped beneath her ample bosom, legs crossed at the ankles, looking at her expectantly. Zalanthe broke eye contact with her to look down at her body, and was surprised to see herself standing naked, save for a pair of simple white panties, a stark contrast to her smooth, unblemished, purple-tinged skin. The front of that skimpy underwear was already tenting outward, her girlcock betraying her again as it strained against the soft fabric, practically begging her to release it.

Swallowing hard, Zalanthe reached down and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down and outward. As the garment slid off of her hips, her member slipped free to stand proudly out before her, her soft, hairless testicles likewise released as she drew the panties down her thighs and then let them drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, her gaze was averted in embarrassment, but she could see from the corner of her eye that her mother’s was not; Cellia’s eyes focused on her cock, and a slight shifting of her thighs told the girl that Mom’s member was responding as well.

“My, how you’ve grown,” Cellia breathed, and she uncrossed and extended one arm, her finger beckoning, “Come closer, dear.”

Seldom the dutiful daughter, she felt unable to do anything but comply now. Her steps brought her to within an arm’s length of Cellia, and though she steeled herself and kept her arms firmly at her sides, her member betrayed her true feelings, fully hard and pointing outwards and slightly up. Before she could steady her trembling form, Zalanthe felt her mother’s fingers play ever-so-lightly over the sensitive skin of her shaft, and an audible gasp escaped her lips. Her cock twitched in response to the unexpected touch, and a drop of clear precum formed at the tip, dripping onto Cellia’s hand as she encircled the organ with her fingers.

There was a long moment where neither moved or spoke, and Zalanthe held her breath, waiting, anticipating, yet almost dreading. Then, inexorably, Cellia began to tug at her daughter’s shaft, sliding up and down, her movements slow yet deliberate. Zalanthe trembled as she felt waves of pleasure emanate from her groin; someone else was touching her, but… it was her own mother!

As she jerked her off, Cellia glanced upward under raised brows and caught Zalanthe’s half-lidded eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a smile. Her voice was teasing, “Does my little girl like how that feels?” Her hand was doing such amazing things, rubbing the underside of her shaft, squeezing, caressing it, and even though she knew it was wrong, Zalanthe felt unable to do anything but stand there, eyes closing now, heart thumping in her chest, and let it happen.

Whatever the expression on her face, Cellia must have seen something there that pleased her, because she giggled faintly and sped up, her hand pulling faster now, milking that throbbing organ. Zalanthe felt weak-kneed, dry-mouthed, and most of all, as though something was slowly building inside her. Her chest heaved as her breathing quickened, her breasts quivering, and that small movement only added to both her pleasure and embarrassment. The things her mother was doing to her girlcock were unbelievable, and it wouldn’t be long before she…

“It’s all right, dear,” Cellia reassured, her voice seeming to come from far away, “just let go.”

The words had their intended effect. Toes curling, butt clenching, Zalanthe cried out and…

…groaned softly and forced her eyes open, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from her mind. She felt groggy and… what else? Sticky?

As the room at the Feathermoon inn came into focus, she raised her head and glanced down. The bedcovers were a tangled mess, wrapped around her feet and draped between her spread legs. Her shaft, softening visibly even as she watched it, was resting on her stomach, and that sticky feeling that had registered in her sleep-addled brain turned out to be pools of warm cum that were splattered across her naked breasts.

Her mouth hung slightly agape for a few moments as she tried to come to terms with such a strange awakening. Then she remembered the dream, and what had happened, and all became clear. “My, how you’ve grown…”

“Well,” she grunted to herself, the slick fluid running between her breasts and down her sides, “I guess that’s one way to wake up.”

Since she’d arrived in the early evening, she’d opted to rent a bed at the inn for a few hours before her reunion with her mother – a prospect she still viewed with a faint feeling of unease that she couldn’t explain. On the journey here, her mind had tantalized her with thoughts of home-cooked meals, of dropping her carefully cultivated façade of hair-trigger deadliness, of simply relaxing and unwinding.

Once she’d arrived however, the chance encounter with Kaylinna had set her to thinking about what (and who) she’d left behind. The vivid memory that her dream had replayed still caused a faint blush of shame, but she wondered now if circumstances were different. Maybe things had changed.


Zalanthe departed from the inn an hour later, freshly washed and dressed, her damp green hair bound up tightly, her utilitarian leather armor eschewed for a tunic and leggings, nevertheless in her preferred color of black. She walked across the bare dirt of what passed for the village’s center square and followed the reverse of that familiar path that had spirited her away from her home all those years ago. Passing the Sentinel’s barracks, she quickened her step just on the off chance that Kaylinna was inside. That’s a reunion best saved for later, she mused absently.

As she threaded between the tightly-spaced dwellings towards Cellia’s home at the wood’s edge, in her mind’s eye she kept seeing her mother’s hand wrapped around her shaft, her eyes gazing up at her daughter’s trembling form with an inquisitive but knowing look, as if to say, “I know you want this, but how badly?” She felt a tremor pass through her body at the recollection – even now, so many years removed, her feelings were as mixed as that look. She was no stranger to sex, but with one’s own blood? That was different, wasn’t it? But… she’d felt safe, protected, and oh so satisfied.

Zalanthe shook her head, irritated. Hindsight was supposed to be 20/20, wasn’t it? Then why was this still such a quandary for her?

The Kal’dorei glanced up as she rounded the corner of a house and that familiar doorstep came into view: the carefully tended flower garden in front, the glimpse of the familiar posts at the side of the house where the grapevines were kept. She smiled despite herself; she was home again, these thoughts could wait their turn.

That respite lasted only a moment however, for a familiar voice emerged from behind the thin jade curtain that served as a front entrance, “Zal? Is that you?”

The curtain parted, and her mother stepped out, removing a pair of gardening gloves. Cellia was just as Zalanthe had remembered her – luminescent silver eyes, hair of a matching hue bound loosely back from her ageless features. She wore a working dress of grayish-brown, worn from long use and smudged with dirt in places, but it nevertheless served to show off her full breasts and soft, rounded hips as she paced forward, regarding her daughter with a delighted smile.

“I wondered how long it would take you to get homesick, dear,” she said with a laugh, drawing Zalanthe into a warm embrace that her daughter returned hesitantly, attempting to bury her previous misgivings as deeply as possible.

As they hugged, Cellia’s lips pressed to her daughter’s cheek in a chaste kiss, but her breath was warm against Zalanthe’s skin as she spoke softly.

“And look how you’ve grown.”


◊ Chapter 3

Home was just as she’d remembered it. The bare floorboards worn from years of traffic, the potted ferns and vines that adorned many of the open surfaces, the table made of ornately wrought driftwood with a solid oak top. It even smelled like home – like freshly-turned earth with a faint lavender scent pervading all.

Zalanthe took it all in as she stood two steps inside the doorway, the slanting rays of the setting sun silhouetting her, Cellia a pace behind her looking on in faint amusement. Smoothing the front of her dress, the latter broke the spell of silence after several moments, “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Turning to face her mother in a swirl of emerald hair, Zalanthe nodded, her eyes searching. “That it has,” she said hesitantly, a few fleeting thoughts still given to her earlier dream and its bearing on her return. Pushing it aside, she seized on the topic of conversation that her eyes alighted upon – her mother’s dress. “Still wearing that old thing?” she said, nodding at it, “I would’ve thought it’d be in tatters by now.”

Leveling an arch look at her daughter, Cellia fired back, “So anxious to get me out of it already, are you?” She laughed throatily at Zalanthe’s flustered, open-mouthed look, and took the opportunity to brush past her, pacing through the small entryway and through a doorway into her humble kitchen. As she disappeared inside, she called back, “Best not stay that way too long, or you’re like to catch a few flies.”

Snapping her mouth closed, Zalanthe struggled to regain her composure in the few moments of privacy she had before she trailed after her mother into the kitchen. There was little here that was unfamiliar as well, and it comforted the elf – the rack with many oddly shaped jars and pots of spices, both exotic and mundane, the milky glass windows that peered out towards the trees to the west and spread the rays of the setting sun in a dozen different directions. Even the worn, scarred countertop seemed like an old friend – how many times when she was a little runt of a girl had she strained, arm outstretched, to retrieve just one more freshly-baked pastry when she thought Cellia wasn’t looking?

As she ran her hands over the familiar wood, her mother turned to face her with a cup of something steaming and held it out for her. Taking it with a nod of thanks, she brought it to her nose and inhaled – white tea, it had been some time since she’d had something as simple and mild as that – then took a careful sip. Cellia turned back to draw water and heat enough for a second cup.

As her mother worked, she spoke conversationally, “So, what have you been up to all these years?”

Zalanthe took a second sip, then set the cup on the countertop and leaned against it, fingers interlaced across her stomach. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” she said evasively, wondering how understanding Cellia would be of some of the finer points of her line of work. “I travel around, taking contracts for various jobs.”

“Jobs,” Cellia repeated, her back still turned. “Somehow, I never thought of you as a manual laborer.”

“Well, not quite those kinds of jobs,” Zalanthe said, scrambling for a better explanation, “more um… dangerous.”

“I see,” her mother said evenly, a hint of expectation in her voice.

Zalanthe sighed and reached up to scratch her head; suddenly, her drying hair seemed to itch something awful, and she suspected that had as much to do with her rapidly deteriorating façade of nonchalance as any physical cause. “Well… information gathering, item retrieval… um, threat neutralization.”

“Spying, theft, and murder, you mean,” Cellia said as she turned back, her voice ominously calm. Her own beverage steeped idly behind her. “Don’t mince words, dear. I know I taught you better than that.”

Zalanthe lifted the cup of tea, taking another sip to cover a grimace as her mind raced. “You’re right, mother,” she said finally in a placating tone, abandoning the masquerade.

Folding her arms under her breasts, Cellia continued, “But I also had a hand in teaching you the skills in combat, stealth, and deception that allow you to do such things.” Her face softened into a knowing smile. “So I can’t very well chastise you for something I played as much of a part in as you.”

As she turned back to pour her own cup of tea, she added, “All that concerns me right now is that you’re back safely.” There was a long pause. “I’ve missed you these past eight years.”

The mounting tension she had felt approaching this reunion seemed to dissipate somewhat at those words, and Zalanthe felt a warmth spread through her. She was home, and welcome at that, and that was what was important.

Happily bemused for several moments, the night elf didn’t notice her mother drawing closer until she was in front of her, looking at her intently, her eyes catching Zalanthe’s and holding them through a long silence.

Finally, Cellia spoke, her voice soft, but intent, “I noticed something earlier, dear.” Her eyes traveled down her daughter’s body, past her perky breasts and taut stomach to the junction of her thighs. “You really have grown.”

If some dry committee somewhere in Azeroth kept world records for various outstanding achievements, they would have to add a new category for speed blushing. Zalanthe purpled prettily and stammered, trying to find a way to extricate herself from this new topic. “Oh well um… I just… that is…”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice,” Cellia questioned. She moved a pace forward and one hand extended to brush against Zalanthe’s loose trousers, her slim fingers finding the soft bulge she was seeking and trailing along it through the coarse material. There was a twitch, and the softness rapidly began to harden.

Zalanthe licked her lips as she felt Cellia’s touch, and she tried to force words out of her suddenly dry mouth but couldn’t. Her girlcock, unconstrained by underwear, was responding noticeably under her mother’s ministrations, tenting the fabric of her right pant leg to partway down her thigh. Her earlier arousal came rushing back all at once, and she could feel a faint tickling as a trickle of precum escaped the tip and ran down her sensitive skin.

Cellia was smiling faintly as she continued to brush her fingers against the rapidly hardening member. Her voice was teasing, “Why, my dear daughter… it feels like you’re just as happy to be reunited as I am.”

Zalanthe could only bite her lip in response, her buttocks and thighs tightening as her body betrayed her. She felt like one quivering mass of pent-up longing mixed with a heaping helping of hesitation and shame. All these years gone, and she still hadn’t come to terms with her mother’s attraction to her… or her own deep-seeded desires in return. She was almost too wrapped up in her internal conflict to notice Cellia hooking her fingers in the waistband of her trousers and pulling them down over her hips and thighs… until she felt the cool air brush across the sensitive skin of her girlcock. She gasped as it swung upward, freed from its constraints, and hung heavy out before her, fully engorged and dark purple.

Cellia knelt before her now, releasing her leggings so they fell loosely about her ankles, her eyes riveted on her daughter’s throbbing member. One hand slid beneath it to cup Zalanthe’s soft, smooth balls, the soft touch accompanied by Cellia’s warm breath as it washed over her exposed skin, eliciting a shiver. As she watched, more precum leaked from the tip, dripping onto her forearm and leaving a wet trail.

Zalanthe’s head swam, and she heard her mother’s voice as though through water. “My my…” Cellia breathed, her voice positively dripping with pent-up lust. A small corner of Zalanthe’s brain counted that as odd – in the past, her mother had always seemed detached, teasing, but in control, but now… the sight of her daughter’s almost painfully hard member had driven the woman into a state of single-minded desire.

The earlier “nocturnal” emission had not diminished Zalanthe’s sensitivity in any way; in fact, it seemed to have only increased it, especially in light of the fact that the events of her dreams were made real again. As Cellia leaned forward and extended her tongue to swab her cock’s leaking head, the elf nearly jumped from the touch. That was nothing, however, to the sensations that raced through her body when her mother took things a step further, scooting forward on her knees, her lips wrapping around the head and several inches of Zalanthe’s shaft and beginning to suckle. Moaning loudly, the younger elf braced herself on the counter lest she slide to the floor in rapturous delight. Though she tried to ignore the soft, wet slurping noises Cellia was making as she swabbed her tongue beneath the sensitive head and tasted her copiously flowing precum, her mind could not focus on anything else.

Encouraged by her daughter’s moan of pleasure, Cellia ramped up her stimulation. The hand that had cupped Zalanthe’s testicles now began to massage them gently, sliding the soft skin of her palms against the softer skin she found there, as if urging their delicious contents forth. Her other hand wrapped around the base of the girl’s shaft, squeezing and delicately pulling as her mouth continued to work its indescribable magic. The entire process was gentle and loving, and though the result was that her daughter was moaning and trembling, Cellia carefully and tenderly orchestrated her mounting pleasure.

Zalanthe gripped the countertop with white-knuckled hands as she felt an orgasm building deep within her; the sensations had power to them, but also a feeling of relaxation, of sweet release, as if her mother was urging her to let go, to accept the shameful nature of their coupling and to move past it, or even… to revel in it? The insistence was surely there as Cellia’s lips formed a tight seal around her shaft and began to suck harder, her tongue seemingly everywhere at once inside her warm, wet mouth. Her hands were insistent as well, guiding her daughter’s pleasure from its source to the focal point between her silky lips. Even as she rode the waves of exquisite pleasure, she could feel one of Cellia's hands slipping between her thighs; a single finger wormed its way between her cheeks, seeking the tight ring of her asshole and brushing against it, threatening to slip inside.

Driven to the edge and beyond, Zalanthe cried out and arched her back, her muscles clenched as a torrent of sticky cum gushed forth from her swollen member into her mother’s waiting, hungry mouth. Cellia swallowed and swallowed again, trying her best to contain the spurting girlcock buried within her mouth, but rivulets escaped her lips and dripped down her chin and into the lap of her dress. Finally, she could take no more, and pulled back, her hand milking her daughter’s throbbing organ as she came and came, splattering her hot seed across her mother’s surprised but smiling face. Her eyes closed, her face covered, Cellia directed the flow back into her mouth, several shots splashing upon her waiting tongue, which she swallowed happily.

Panting and shaking, Zalanthe finally came down from the cresting wave she had ascended, hypersensitive – she could feel Cellia’s hands still gently caressing her softening member, the muscles of her hands and thighs painful to the point of cramping from being held rigid for so long, even several strands of her green hair that had come loose as she had thrashed about tickling her neck. Opening her eyes, she tilted her head forward to gaze down at her mother, whose face was splattered and dripping with her seed. Cellia released her grip on her daughter and brought a hand to her face, her fingers gathering up some of the cum and slipping into her mouth as she breathed a contented hum. As she withdrew her fingers, she smiled back up at her trembling daughter and teased, “Mmm. As delicious as I remembered.”

Standing and moving forward, Cellia pressed against Zalanthe and sought her lips, her sticky face smearing against her girl’s as they shared a wet kiss, that still-leaking member trapped between them. Cellia even gave her daughter a pleasant surprise, passing some of the cum she still held within her mouth into Zalanthe’s as their tongues brushed against each other.

Finally breaking the sloppy kiss, Cellia drew back and regarded her panting, shaking progeny with a bemused smile, and Zalanthe noticed for the first time her mother’s hard member tenting the fabric of her dress as she stood before her, straining outward for its own relief.

Placing her hands on her hips and presenting herself before her daughter without a trace of shame, Cellia’s serene smile widened, “Welcome home, love.”


◊ Chapter 4

Later, upon reflection, the one thing that Zalanthe could remember the most about the early evening’s unexpected turn of events was the pose her mother struck: uncaring, unembarrassed, even proud. Cellia’s knowing look was penetrating as she watched her daughter lean against the counter, her seed now playfully smeared across both their faces. That look seemed to say, “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.” That was the damning thing, in Zalanthe’s mind. She had enjoyed that, much more than she wanted to admit to herself.

She took several moments as she held herself up with trembling hands to reflect. Her years out in the world had changed her, that much was apparent to anyone; she felt far less shame about her physicality, the fact that she possessed the sexual organs of both male and female. It was a rarity, to be sure, but one that had been surprisingly welcomed by most of the lovers she had taken over the years. Her feelings on the matter had shifted, from shame, to hesitancy, to acceptance, and finally to outright pride. So, the fact that her own mother also sported a hard, straining cock, which even now was leaking precum that left a spreading circle of wetness on the front of her dress, didn’t bother her as much as it used to. So, what remained was the fact that Cellia was her own flesh and blood. That part of the perverse pairing had her confounded.

Cellia interrupted her bemused reverie, apparently deciding that a further demonstration of her ability to leave her daughter breathless was necessary. As Zalanthe looked on, she slid her hands slowly down her hips to the hem of her dress and lifted, outward and upward, drawing the flimsy fabric away from her body. As she pulled the garment over her head and carelessly cast it aside, Zalanthe held her breath as her mother’s dripping shaft came into view, thrusting outward at her, her two soft testicles hanging swollen below. Droplets of gooey precum fell steadily from its dark purple head to splatter against the worn wooden floor.

Cellia’s smile remained, even grew, as she watched her daughter watching her, and she decided to give Zalanthe little time to further consider the intricacies of their pairing. Inching forward, she closed the distance between the two until their girlcocks touched, head to head, and Zalanthe jumped slightly as she felt the contact, as though electricity had sparked. Both of the women’s bodies reacted noticeably to the touch, fresh squirts of slippery liquid running free from the engorged heads to mingle and trickle down their kissing members. Zalanthe choked back a wanton moan at the renewal of her lustful outpouring as the two remained motionless for several moments, save for the twitching of their members against each other. Even that small motion, however, had both their hearts racing. All this was done in silence, save for the increasingly uneven breath of both mother and daughter.

Finally, Cellia’s voice broke the spell.

“You’ve been gone so long,” she breathed, moving her hips ever so slightly so their cockheads rubbed together. The sensation elicited a shiver from Zalanthe as she gripped the countertop, practically holding on for dear life.

“I’ve been alone all this time,” she continued, inching forward slightly so her shaft forced her daughter’s upward, slick precum lubricating every tiny movement.

“You want this as badly as I do,” she purred, her hands reaching out to grasp Zalanthe’s hips as her girlcock slid against her daughter’s larger one, both achingly hard and glistening in the soft light.

“Shall we?” With that, Cellia closed the final few inches between the two and pressed her naked breasts against Zalanthe’s, the two elves’ bodies molding to each other as their lips locked in a long kiss, breasts crushed together.

Zalanthe couldn’t help it. Wickedness be damned, she wanted this just as badly. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and moaned into her mouth as she returned the kiss. Her hips rotated back as she joined in rubbing her dripping girlcock over, around, and beside Cellia’s, their closely drawn bodies trapping their pulsing organs between them. Both heads oozed still more messy pre as they rubbed together, quickly leaving smears across both women’s stomachs. So close were they that their balls rubbed together as well, causing further squirming and moaning.

Cellia’s tongue swirled inside Zalanthe’s mouth as she felt her daughter respond, give in, and become swept away by desire. She squeezed her eyes shut, the exquisite feeling of their slippery members sliding together driving her to new heights of ecstasy. Her hard nipples poked and prodded against Zalanthe’s, their breasts mashed together as they wriggled their way quickly towards release.

Zalanthe felt her mother begin to hump against her in earnest now, all pretense of slow seduction abandoned for hungry immediacy. Her lips broke away as her head rolled backward and soft mewling noises emerged from her throat, her entire world narrowing to the unbelievable feelings emanating from between their two sweating forms.

It wasn’t long before neither Cellia’s nor Zalanthe’s bodies could take any more, the lust inside them rising to boiling. Clasping each other tightly, both mother and daughter tensed rigidly as they reached orgasm together. Their slick girlcocks twitched and bounced against each other as they released ribbons of hot, sticky semen all over each other’s stomachs, spurts of the white goo splattering against the bottoms of their heaving breasts and streaming across their bellies and down their thighs. Cellia matched and exceeded Zalanthe’s output, long years of waiting giving her climax legs to run with as she coated her daughter’s taut belly with her creamy seed, her teasing voice reduced to uncontrollable gasps and moans.

Zalanthe felt her knees weaken and her body start to slide inexorably downward as her third orgasm of the day threatened to drive her to unconsciousness, until she felt Cellia’s arms supporting her, holding her up, comforting her. Her mother’s voice emerged as a wordless comforting hum, her warm breath buffeting and caressing Zalanthe’s cheek and ear as she leaned into her daughter. Thus braced, she rode out the incredible feelings as they threatened to, but stopped just short of overwhelming her.

All good things must come to an end, even exquisite pleasure such as these two experienced, and after several more moments they both came down from their highs, panting from near-exhaustion. As Zalanthe slumped, leaning back against the countertop for support, still afraid that her shaking legs would betray her, Cellia reached between them, wrapping her long fingers around their slowly softening shafts. Smiling drowsily, she squeezed and drew her hand upward, drawing forth one final weak spurt from each, the warm fluid splattering across her hand as both women gasped a final time.

Cellia stepped backward on legs near as shaky as Zalanthe’s and drew that hand across her sopping midsection, spreading the sticky cum around. As she stared down at their mingled mess, she whispered softly, “My, where were we keeping all of that?”

Zalanthe could only stare at her mother, feeling both incredulous at their carnal acts and hesitant at what could follow. Not an hour home and she’d been thoroughly seduced, brought off not once but twice. What else could this return visit have in store for her? She found herself cringing internally at the thought, but at the same time… relishing the surprise.

As she felt her arms wobble from holding herself up, her legs threatening to cramp, Zalanthe realized that one way or another she was not soon to forget this trip home...


◊ Chapter 5

Kaylinna sighed and slumped, her chin resting in her hands as the gazed sullenly at the opposite wall. The night elf sat upon a carved wooden bench in the boarding room of the Sentinels’ barracks, her own locker directly behind her, one of a row of thin, painted cubbies. Her eyes pondered the intricacies of the rough wooden wall while her mind flitted this way and that. She was clad only in matching sky blue bra and panties, leaving the majority of her toned, pale body exposed, but her state of undress was the last thing on her mind.

“Zalanthe,” she muttered, preceeding another sigh and then a puff of irritated breath that blew an offending lock of her short, dark blue hair away from her eyes. “She appears out of the blue like nothing ever happened!” Her annoyance rising, Kaylinna let her eyes fall to the floor below her where her discarded armor lay, and she absently used a toe to nudge the gear, the clinking of the metal scales only distracting her for a moment.

It wasn’t that she was romantically inclined towards this erstwhile lover of hers. She certainly hadn’t spent the time since they’d unexpectedly parted pining and sighing prettily and fluttering her lashes like a maiden. She’d had other lovers since, some merely satisfying, some disappointing, a few above average. But the one incredible evening she’d spent with Zalanthe before the rogue pulled her disappearing act, well… Kaylinna thought back to the surprise that had registered as she’d pulled the trembling girl’s leggings down with her teeth, her eyes darting to the underwear revealed beneath as she drew them down, down… and stopped. “Yes, about that…” Zalanthe had quipped.

Kaylinna shook her head violently, blinking rapidly as she tried to clear the image from her mind, but not from disgust. She’d thought about that moment and those following it often in the past years, and they had fuelled many a fantasy since. Every man she’d slept with since, she imagined him possessing soft, heaving lavender breasts; every woman, a hard, throbbing cock (quite the feat of self-deception!). Each successive tryst only seemed to solidify the images in her mind, until she was… obsessed. It was maddening!

Then… this morning, Zalanthe herself had come frolicking off that ferry as though nothing had happened, like she had no idea the irritation she’d caused since. Kaylinna had put on a show of casual teasing, but her mouth had been dry and her heart racing, and she’d had to put all her concentration into keeping her knees from wobbling… and then! Oh, and then… it had gotten bigger somehow in the years since, she’d been able to feel it even through two layers of leather, wakening beneath her touch. Unbelievable!

Squirming her ample rear on the smooth wood of the bench, Kaylinna almost snarled in frustration as she felt the familiar wetness seeping into her panties like an old friend, called forth again every time her mind turned this way. Her hands gripped the edge until they were nearly white-knuckled as her pale skin flushed pink, and she could feel the familiar tightening in her belly, the rest of her body tensing. There she sat for several long moments, swallowing hard as she fought, struggled… and lost.

Leaning back suddenly against the lockers with a muted thud, the night elf jerked her thighs apart, one hand moving to the widening wet spot on her panties. She ground down with the heel of her palm, causing a shudder to run through her form and her legs to splay even farther out. Hunger, frustration, and above all, urgency; those were the feelings that flashed through Kaylinna as she rubbed insistently against her rapidly soaking panties, the wetness seeping through and onto her hand as she forced the slick cloth to brush across her sensitive clit.

“Damn you, Zalanthe…”


Alliance Trauma, Foothold Citadel, Theramore. Yashoda sighed girlishly as she went about the simple task of changing the sheets on another of the patients’ cots, her mind anywhere but on her task. The ivory-hued almost-Draenei pursed her lips as she bent over the foot of the bed, her immaculate white nurse’s uniform riding up in the back to expose the narrow patch of cloth that covered her rounded rear, her long sinuous tail flicking about nervously. Lifting the mattress with ease, she absently stuffed a fresh pillow beneath, adding to the two that had already been hastily crammed into that narrow space. That would have to do, she thought… she was running out of pillows already, and with a forlorn glance at the row of mussed beds to her right, she realized she still had a half dozen more to “finish.”

Straightening herself and giving the arrangement a satisfied nod, she retrieved a large wad of cloth from the wheeled cart beside her and placed it delicately atop the bare mattress. Yashoda smiled happily and clapped her hands as she looked at the finished product: the bed was lumpy as could be near the foot and the sheets had been knotted into an artful bow that now adorned the center. “Perfect!”

It was a slow day at the Alliance Trauma Center, the sailors and footmen somehow managing to avoid serious injury yet again; the only current patient was a man in a full body cast several beds away, bound up in traction by a dizzying array of crisscrossing wires. Yashoda pondered the lack of injuries… for that matter, there weren’t even the usual strains, sprains and cuts that needed simple patching up. It was almost as though the men and women of the forces stationed here were purposely avoiding the place! Well, there had been the blood-curdling screams several days ago, no doubt audible to most of the port’s inhabitants… No, that can't be it… Dr. VanHowzen said the man would be perfectly fine without his legs!

Sighing again, this time in boredom, Yashoda took several aimless steps, her ivory hooves clopping on the immaculate tile floor, until she tumbled bonelessly onto the next unmade bed in line. Her sweeping ivory horns nearly smashed into an overhead lamp as she fell, and the cot creaked ominously beneath her as her full-figured form stressed the thin legs. Her massive breasts were squashed beneath her as she rested her chin on her hands and bounced her legs against the mussed covers, her body as restless as her thoughts.

Those same legs would draw the eye of any passerby, marking her as anything but a Draenei – covered in hard scales from her knees to her hooves, with sharp protrusions behind her calves, they marked her as something not quite… normal. Of course, the curving, segmented horns, much longer than any Draenei’s and thrusting forward from beneath a mane of snow-white hair would further this identification.

Fortunately, no one was around to take a second glance at this strange creature as she sighed and cooed and pondered in the quiet ward. Finally, her eyes fell upon the bedside table and widened as a surprised smile overtook her face. “That’s right, I left it in there,” she exclaimed before struggling forward, her breasts acting as brakes as she stretched to reach the drawer. Opening it, she reached inside and retrieved a crumpled ball of soft black cloth, and with an excited gasp she shook it out, revealing it to be a slightly worn, very wrinkled under tunic. “Theeeere you are,” Yashoda whispered, and brought the garment to her face, inhaling deeply. The earthy smell of sweat assaulted her senses and sent shivers down her spine, giving utterance to an excited squeal as she squirmed around on the bed.

Her long tail swished around above her like that of a cat as she pressed the tunic to her face, the smooth appendage tapering from thick just above her wide bottom to a slender tip. Swaying back and forth at first, it almost seemed to have a mind of its own as it dipped down, the tip running sensuously along her bare inner thigh, moving steadily upward. Reaching her panty-covered crotch, it ran daintily across the white fabric, tracing the outline of her bulging labia before pressing gently at the center of that thinly-stretched cloth. Such movements and noises managed to catch the attention of the ward’s sole patient. Encased in plaster though he was, he could still watch from the corner of his eyes as this love-struck… demon? diddled herself.

Yashoda shivered and wiggled her hips lasciviously, a dreamy look in her eyes. Her thighs spread further apart, the sharp edges of her hooves dragging the tousled bedcovers as they moved. This gave her far more room to work with, and she used it well – her tail prodded insistently now against her panties, forming a small wet spot. Then, the tip moved sideways, gliding to where white fabric met equally white flesh, poking, lifting… and sliding beneath. Throughout, she continued to clutch the bit of clothing as though it was a life preserver, her long nails digging into the material as she breathed in more of the heady, familiar scent.

“Oh, Zalanthe…”


From the mist she came, clothed in the damp and nothing else, her eyes a shimmering liquid gold that saw and pondered and knew. Her bare feet made no sound in the springy moss and moist loam as she stepped across the clearing; even her breathing was hushed, only the faintest whisper of sound to mark her passing. Hair of the deepest emerald poured across her shoulders like a fall of vines, wisps brushing to and fro as she walked.

The elf reached a massive tree, her eyes turning upward as they sought its high reaches, lost in the cool mist that pervaded. Would it be safe? Could they be above? She could not say for sure, but she possessed the will and the power to drive them off if need be. Yet… she knew, without knowing how she knew, that all would be well.

Arms reached out, hands finding the bark, her fingertips dislodging bits of detritus to scatter at her feet. One hand found a knot, the other a shallow gash where a bear had sharpened his claws once. She tensed, relaxed, breathed… and began to climb.

Up and up, hands finding handholds, feet finding purchase. She was graceful, her body tensing and flowing. As she moved higher, branches and hollows helped her ascent like rungs of a ladder, each shake dislodging dead leaves that twirled and fluttered as they fell out of sight. The ground grew distant, hazy, lost, as though she had passed above the clouds.

The elf could not say why she picked any branch in particular, but her climb halted at one. It was strong and sturdy; it yearned out towards other trees and slightly up, straining for the few shafts of sunlight that penetrated the canopy, dappling her skin. She stepped out onto it, her hands leaving the trunk like a lover’s last caress, her look fond as she silently thanked the great old thing for seeing her through.

Outward she walked, the branch wide enough to ease her passage if she walked one foot in front of the next. The leaves were all around her new – some newly budding, fresh and green, some autumn-hued and brittle. More of the latter broke free to join their brothers below, silently drifting down, yet she took little notice. It was the nature of such things.

As she walked, she reached a fork in the branch. Stopping, she lowered herself down to sit, and then to lay back, her feet sliding along the forked paths. Her hair draped down, the tips glistening with collected dew; her arms similarly hung free in the empty air to either side. Her breathing slowed, her eyes closed, her thoughts turned inward.

Some time passed; she knew not how much. She felt her hands brushing across her skin almost as though they were not her own. Her fingers traced whorls and patterns across her stomach, drew gently along her flanks, and teased faintly at the undersides of her breasts. Then, oh so slowly, they glided downward, down, lower, passing over her belly and between her parted thighs. Her thatch of mossy green deterred her for only a moment before her fingertips brushed across her lips, sending a tremor through her body and bringing a warm smile to her face.

Those same fingers swirled in the sweet nectar there before one gently began to press inside as her toes curled, her hips shifted, her eyes closed. In her mind, she could see another elf near to her, limned in a faint light and surrounded by the same mist, a shape, a form and nothing more. Yet she knew her name. As her finger slid deeper and deeper inside, her mouth opened to call out to her, yet no sound emerged to break the silence…


Kaylinna would have presented quite the sight to any of the other Sentinels who happened to venture into the room: her legs were spread lewdly, bent at the knees as she practically laid across the bench, her head propped up by the cubby behind her. Her hand was stuffed into her panties, two fingers shoved inside her dripping cunt, sliding forcefully in and out as her other hand mauled one breast through her bra, pinching the nipple savagely. Her moans had a savage quality as well, edged with both passion and fury as she fucked herself and silently cursed Zalanthe.

This is her fault, the night elf thought, shuddering as her thumb brushed across her clit unexpectedly. The contact sent jolts through her body, the muscles of her thighs tensing and flexing. Her feet slid against the cold stone of the floor, quiet shuffling sounds that would give no clue to someone listening of the lustful abandon taking place. The steady thudding of her ass bouncing against the bench, however, might have been slightly more telling.

“Nrrrgh…” Kaylinna’s back arched as she pushed her fingers deeper into her cunt, filling herself up as Zalanthe had filled her up so long ago. It wasn’t the same, could not be the same, but fingers and memories nevertheless drove this frustrated Kal’dorei to new heights. Fresh trickles of juices soaked her digits and seeped out to further dampen her already sopping panties. The tremendous effort expended as she masturbated formed a sheen of sweat, adding to the powerful musk that her lithe elven form was generating.

She’s not sneaking away this time, Kaylinna promised to herself. Her other hand departed from her breast to seek other more sensitive locales. It slid between her thighs as she pushed her ass further off of the bench, one finger slipping beneath the taut fabric it found and worming between her clenched cheeks to prod at her rear hole. Even though she was expecting it and orchestrating it, the sensitive touch at her pucker made her toes curl and her eyes water. She grunted and slipped her fingertip past the tight muscle, worming it inside.

Too much. Far too much! With a loud cry, halfway a sob at the amount of pleasure she felt, Kaylinna came hard, her ass and cunt clenching down on her fingers. Sweat ran in rivulets as she shuddered uncontrollably, nearly sliding completely off the bench as a powerful orgasm wracked her body. Several squirts of hot liquid splashed across her palm and ran down, leaving her underwear a sopping, drenched mess as a puddle began to form on the floor beneath her.

It took quite some time for the trembling night elf to become aware of her surroundings again. Her finger had slipped from her ass, allowing her to hold herself up by the edge of the bench again, but she left her other fingers inside herself for several minutes as she panted and shook and tried to bring herself back under control. The release had been astonishing, and yet… unsatisfying. Kaylinna knew why.

Finally extracting her tired digits, she pushed herself back up to a sitting position one-handed as she brought the dripping appendages to her mouth. Her breath was ragged as she slipped them between her lips, tasting them, sucking them clean and yet barely even noticing. Her eyes were speculative, her mind elsewhere.

I need a plan…


Lying on her stomach (or, more accurately, her enormous breasts), Yashoda closed her eyes and positively purred as her tail deftly slid in and out of her damp pussy. The appendage, looping from just above her rear to between her quivering thighs, had dragged the tight cloth of her panties aside, allowing it to push between her prominent lips with ease. Those mammaries acting as supports, her rear twitched in the air and waved to and fro as she pleasured herself and dreamed of her One True Love.

It wasn’t difficult for her to form an image, either. The under tunic, no doubt not-so-innocently swiped from Zalanthe’s belongings at some point before they had parted, lay in a heap just beneath her chin. This left her hands free to reach above her head, grasping at the headrail as she stretched her body out and shudder at her own touch. A curtain of pale hair surrounded and enclosed her face as she sniffed at the garment, giving the act the quality of a private show with a hint of desperation.

“Mmmm…” Yashoda breathed, her mind far, far away. It was not her tail that was pushing in and out of her, but Zalanthe… that sardonic smile, that striking figure, the way her eyes flashed passionately when confronted by danger. Her hooves clanged against the metal frame at the foot of the bed, the noise ringing out like a bell tolling – it was a very good thing that the ward was relatively empty, else she might have had quite the audience!

As it was, the unlucky man, covered head to toe in thick, hard plaster bandages, could only look on in longing and dismay at this strange, voluptuous woman with her alabaster skin and her massive horns. He was treated to quite the eyeful – facedown, spread-eagled, Yashoda seemed to be having some sort of minor seizure, save for the tail that very clearly filled her pussy, her body rocking fore and aft with its motions in and out, in and out. He was getting an earful too! Yashoda was all girlish mewling and cooing and seemed almost on the verge of delighted giggles as she nuzzled against some balled-up wad of cloth or a rag or something. Despite that oddity, the entire tableau was enough to make the man curse his current state, as he could feel his member begin to harden, only to stop with nowhere to go!

Several moments later, the man would only have increased cause to swear. With a keening cry and a shudder, Yashoda’s tail wormed its way deep inside her and twirled about as she came, her arms and legs stretching to their utmost as she squirmed atop the rumpled bedcovers. She buried her face in the tunic, muffling her moans and cries as images of Zalanthe drove all other thoughts from her mind.

Slowly, as she came down, Yashoda’s tail emerged from her pussy and curled upward, flicking daintily as it dislodged several droplets of her fluids. With a happy sigh, the milky demoness pushed herself upwards and slid off of the bed, a final shiver running through her as she stood upright. Smiling fondly, she gathered up her memento and carefully crumpled it again, stuffing it back into the bedside table drawer and quietly shutting it.

As she retrieved her cart and began to wheel it towards the exit, her gaze was drawn by the man in traction, whose eyes, the only bit of him actually visible, stared at her with a mixture of panic and astonishment. “Oh,” Yashoda exclaimed, her blue eyes wide as she looked upon his clean, white form, “that’s dreadful! Have you had no one to visit you?” She nodded emphatically at his torso, “Your cast is completely blank! Here, I can fix that…”

Fishing in her pocket, she produced a grease pencil as she stepped around her cart and over to his bedside. Leaning down, one of her huge breasts covered his plastered face, causing a muffled, pained moan as she furiously scribbled on his encased shoulder.

“There!” she cried, quite pleased with herself as she pocketed the pencil and stood with her hands on her hips, admiring her work. “Now you won’t feel so lonely anymore, Mr. Bandages.” She gave him a gentle pat on the leg and twirled, her tail swishing behind her as she clopped off to the next bed, humming happily to herself.


Wordless, she slid her finger in and out, coating it in dewy wetness each time. The rough bark of the branch beneath her was of no concern, nor her precarious perch, nor anything save the warmth that emanated from her core and spread throughout her body. Her eyes slid closed in rapturous content as she pleasured herself gently, lovingly. She could feel the delightful tickling of her breasts leaking warm milk, droplets sliding across her skin to drip, drip, drip into the emptiness below her.

The mist felt cool against her skin, a faint breeze brushing across her that gave her goosebumps as she lay there, her mind fixed on that image of an elf. She knew the name, but could not say it. That should have bothered her, and yet… she was not meant to say it yet. The saying would have power, power she could not control, and it was not time, not yet…

Instead, she focused as much as she could on the
now, on her body’s reactions, her hedonistic response. Knees flexing, back arching, she had never felt more alive and present than at this moment. Each time her finger dipped between those soft petals, she floated higher, and higher still.

Then…yes! Her mouth went wide in a silent cry as an image of that familiar elf turning to embrace her burned itself into her brain. Forgotten sensations awoke and thrilled her anew as she felt her heart beat faster, her muscles tensing and relaxing rapidly, her finger oh so perfect right there. Nourishing milk ran from her nipples like rainwater, joining the nectar that flowed around her finger and outward.

She couldn’t hold back anymore, the time was upon her…



Zalanthe felt a tremor run through her body, starting in her legs and resonating all the way up to her shoulders, as though someone had taken hold of her and shaken her vigorously. It was so sudden and unexpected that she nearly dropped the cup of tea she’d been blowing on. Setting it down quickly but carefully on the table in front of her, she shook her head several times and experimentally flexed her arms and legs, giving herself a once over.

“Well, that was odd,” she muttered, looking around suspiciously to see if anyone was watching her. She’d gotten these kinds of feelings before, like somebody might be looking over her shoulder or watching her from afar, and yet they’d never been that strong. But there was no sight of anyone in the kitchen, only the familiar surroundings and still air as her eyes swept across the room.

Retrieving her tea, she took a careful sip, the liquid having cooled enough in the long moments that passed while she pondered the strange occurrence. Humming contentedly, she savored the flavors of berries while her thoughts wandered aimlessly. Cellia was sleeping off their… thing, and if not for her earlier nap Zalanthe would have been collapsed in a boneless heap as well. As it was, it was all she could do to prepare herself a cup of tea and think straight.

Thinking straight, that was a tall order these days. She’d left Stormwind to search for answers to a dozen questions, most of them given substance by her lover Yashoda. Primarily, who was she? Was there more to her than just being a simple Kal’dorei? What about her father, where was he? Most importantly, why did she have… THAT? Zalanthe took a mouthful of tea and gulped hard, her eyes narrowed. She’d come a long way from the confused, unsure girl that had left this island; she no longer felt shame or unease over her difference from other women, and yet… the damn thing was no end of trouble at times!

“Why can’t people just treat me like anyone else,” she exclaimed, her voice louder than she’d intended. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she glanced furtively back over her shoulder towards the hallway that led to Cellia’s bedroom. That was the last thing she needed right now, to wake her up. She wasn’t sure she could handle her mother’s come-hither eyes and knowing smiles for much longer. Sighing with resignation, she took another sip of tea and swirled it around in her mouth as she slumped, elbow on table, chin on hand, sullen.

The night elf remained there in stony silence for several long minutes, staring out of the window that overlooked Cellia’s vegetable patch. Her eyes busied themselves tracing the paths of vines as they wound up and over the wrought iron archway that adorned the garden path, until she heard a knocking at the front of the house. She noted the position of the moon – only recently risen – and pondered that. Who would be looking for Cellia so early in the evening? She pushed her chair back with a soft scrape, careful not to make too much noise, and went to see who it was.

Parting the front curtain, she stuck her head out to find an unfamiliar elf garbed in the armor of a Sentinel, her warglaive strapped to her back, standing rigidly at attention. Her deep violet hair was bound up tightly under the steel halfhelm she wore. Odd… why would a…

“Zalanthe, I presume?” Her thoughts were cut off unexpectedly by the elf’s voice, her tone formal and businesslike.

“Yes, yes,” Zalanthe replied in a whisper, holding her hand out to indicate silence. “My mother’s sleeping, so keep it down please.”

Ignoring her caution, the Sentinel extended her arm, presenting a mailed fist that grasped a carefully folded note, the wax seal still fresh on it. “Shandris herself wishes to see you,” she said, her volume unchanged. When Zalanthe took the note, she continued, “It’s urgent, so please do not keep her waiting.”

Giving a stiff bow, the Sentinel turned on her heel and paced away, leaving Zalanthe standing there holding the note with a dumbfounded look. Now what in the world could this be about?


◊ Chapter 6

“You ought to know,” Shandris had said, leveling a speculative gaze at Zalanthe, “that Cellia hasn’t been entirely honest with you.”

Stepping out of the Sentinels’ barracks, Zalanthe shut the carved wooden door behind her and leaned against it for several moments, her eyes distant and her thoughts elsewhere. Clad in her simple black linen tunic and trousers, she would be difficult to see in the dim moonlight, and the night elf preferred this – after the conversation she’d just had with Shandris Feathermoon, the last thing she wanted was to be set upon by someone else demanding her time and attention.

So, Cellia was once a Sentinel, she mused, her eyes alighting upon a nearby tree branch, watching as it swayed to and fro in the night breeze. The leaves seemed as restless as her thoughts, and she blinked several times, trying to organize them into some semblance of order. The discovery that her mother had once been a member of that martial order of guardians and defenders, only to be summarily dismissed for some unspeakable transgression, was reason enough for concern. What else hasn’t she told me?

Pushing herself away from the door, Zalanthe began to carefully retrace her steps through the darkened paths of Feathermoon, cognizant of how late it was. The sun was still several hours from rising, and even that struck the elf as odd – only two days home, and already she’d seamlessly transitioned from the daylight schedule of the outside world to the nocturnal life of her people. But little else felt familiar about her trip now. As she walked, she began to replay Shandris’ words within her mind.

“It’s been a bit over a century since her dismissal,” Shandris explained, her hands folded atop the ornate wooden table she sat behind. The leader of the Sentinels had long been associated with a reputation for being cool under fire, but Zalanthe was practiced enough at reading others to note the tension in her posture and voice as she related this untold tidbit about her mother’s past.

“I’m guessing before I was born,” Zalanthe mused, her mind working quickly, “since I don’t recall any duty assignments, at least as far back as I can remember.”

“Yes, before then,” Shandris had responded after a moment’s hesitation, one that did not go unnoticed.

Zalanthe wondered why she needed to be told this now, especially on top of everything else she’d had to deal with on her trip home. She’d come here to relax, to ease her mind, to escape the complexities of the outside world, and now life seemed content to pile one mess atop the next (figuratively and literally). On top of that… why had Shandris been so evasive?

“So, why did you dismiss her?” Zalanthe asked, folding her arms in front of her as she tried to process all of this. She felt as though she’d been put on the spot, and she intended to return the favor at least a little. It was to no avail, however.

“Best ask her yourself,” Shandris replied shortly, her tone brusque, final. “I’m just telling you because I know she won’t, and it’s important that you know.” The older Kal’dorei stood and nodded towards the door, a clear dismissal, “It’s up to the two of you now.”

As Zalanthe sorted through the last of their interaction in her mind, she reached the front entrance to her mother’s house and paused, taking a deep breath that carried with it the scent of herbs and greenery, of tranquility. She silently wished that she felt near as calm as the early morning air. It seemed as though each sunrise and sunset brought with it more problems to deal with. Shandris was right, though; like it or not, she needed to confront her mother. It was obvious that Cellia’s past had some bearing on her own… and besides, in Zalanthe’s line of work, secrets were a liability.

Steeling herself to face down her unassuming yet formidable mother, the night elf stepped forward and was poised to part the front curtain when she heard Cellia’s voice, muffled and indistinct, floating to her slender ears from inside. After a moment, another voice, similarly faint but clearly also feminine, responded. Then her mother again, the words inaudible… but the throaty moan that quickly followed them certainly wasn’t. At that, Zalanthe blushed dark purple, frozen in place, and endured the faintest twinge of jealousy. Good goddess, am I not enough for the woman?

She quickly quashed that ugly emotion, however. What right did she have to Cellia’s attentions being gone for so long? Aside from that… she’s my mother, for Elune’s sake! Who in their right mind is that kind of possessive about their parent?! Embarrassment warred with curiosity however, that intense desire to know who Cellia had occupied herself with while she’d been away. There’s nothing wrong with simply finding out who it is and then leaving them be. After all, Zalanthe was practiced in the art of deception, and that certainly included self-deception as well.

Slipping inside, she moved on silent feet through the front hallway, sneaking into and through the kitchen, past the cup of tea she’d left half-finished a scant hour before, still where she’d set it down on the table. Another moan, louder now that it came to her ears unimpeded by several rooms, sent a tingle down her spine and stopped her cold for a moment. Was it right to be doing this? Then again… the fact that Cellia had kept secrets from her made her bolder, more daring. At this very moment, Zalanthe felt as though she had the right to know… quite a lot! Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she quickly tiptoed into the hallway, towards the faint glimmer of candlelight that seeped out from the entrance to her mother’s bedroom. Drawing up to the doorway, she paused a moment before peering inside.

Sitting on the bed with her eyes closed and her mouth drawn into a smile of pure contentment was Cellia, her silvery hair draped behind her in a shimmering wave that almost seemed to catch and reflect the flickering candle on the bedside table. Her pale blue nightgown was bunched up around her waist, leaving her free to spread her legs widely, her full breasts barely contained by the silky material. Her hands, splayed behind her, palms down, trembled as they held her up, but otherwise she was the picture of absolute bliss as she received the full, unwavering attention of the room’s other occupant.

Facing away from Zalanthe and kneeling between her mother’s spread thighs was another elf, her focus completely consumed by Cellia’s painfully hard shaft, which the unidentified girl had buried fully halfway in her mouth. As she watched, the mysterious female rose slightly, changing her angle and sliding Cellia’s cock further between her lips, steadily swallowing inch after soft, heated inch until her lips met her mother’s groin, the head of Cellia’s member buried somewhere deep within her throat. There she paused, obviously teasing the older woman, allowing Zalanthe’s wide, unblinking eyes to take in the girl’s nude, pale-skinned form. As she utterly swallowed Cellia’s , this late night visitor’s ample, shapely rear was on full display for the peeping elf.

“Mmm,” Cellia breathed, her breasts rising and falling with hastily drawn breaths as she quite obviously relished the feelings she was experiencing, “you simply must try this on Zalanthe.” Cellia licked her lips slowly before continuing, “Disappearing on you after one night together, I think… she needs more convincing to stay this time around.” The only response she received was a soft, low-pitched hum of agreement as the girl nodded, her shoulder-length, dark blue hair concealing her identity… but not for long. “All this time waiting, Miss Kaylinna,” her mother continued, languidly lifting her hips, “I can… definitely relate.”

Kaylinna!? What… how… As her one-time lover began to gently bob up and down on her mother’s cock, Cellia’s next words floored her.

“I would be sorely disappointed if you didn’t show Zalanthe your technique,” she breathed, uttering a soft moan that dissolved into a faint giggle. “My little girl wasn’t ever nearly this good.”

That did it! Kaylinna’s gurgled note of surprise was almost immediately drowned out by Zalanthe’s indignant exclamation, “Mother!”

As Zalanthe came bursting out of concealment to stand in the doorway, Cellia’s gaze raised to meet her daughter’s, her eyes bright with desire. “Why, Zalanthe,” she said almost conversationally, “your ears must have been burning. We were just talking about you!”

Kaylinna swiftly drew Cellia’s member out of her mouth and turned to face the true target of her desires. Her lips hung open in an almost comical expression of surprise, the slender fingers of one hand still wrapped around that cock that moments ago had been buried to the hilt in her throat. “You… you two…” she began, trying to come to terms with what she thought she’d just heard.

Cellia was unashamed. “Why, of course, dear Kaylinna,” she said with a warm smile, her shaft glistening in the soft light, dribbles of precum escaping from the swollen head to trickle downward across the girl’s fingers. “Wherever do you think she learned how to please you so well. She was quite the attentive student.” A bright blush stained Kaylinna’s pale cheeks as she considered the implications. Her imagination was not required for long, however.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Cellia purred, that same inviting smile on her lips, “come give your dear mother a kiss.” There was a long moment following where none of the three moved, spoke, even breathed. Embarrassment warred with desire in Zalanthe’s brain as she came to grips with their dirty secret being out in the open.

Then, with a grunt that seemed equal parts urgency and acquiescence, Zalanthe was moving, her arms quickly drawing her thin linen tunic over her head, baring the rich purple of her heavy breasts. Several tugs and a delightful wiggle of her hips and her trousers and panties followed, leaving her nude, her own lengthy cock standing out proudly before her, betraying her arousal even if her speed in disrobing had not.

As Zalanthe stepped forward, her eyes intent, it felt as though something had given way in her mind, the last vestiges of her shame and dismay departing. Their secret was out… and truly, had it ever even been a secret that needed keeping? Whatever else happened, she knew her mother loved her unconditionally. She’d always felt safe with her, comforted, and even the mysterious revelation delivered by Shandris earlier seemed to pale in importance to returning that love wholeheartedly.

Brushing past Kaylinna, who quickly extracted her hand and watched with wide, disbelieving eyes, she climbed into her mother’s lap, straddling the older woman. As she wrapped her arms around Cellia, their breasts pressed together, their shafts sliding against one another as they were trapped between their heated bodies. Zalanthe gave her smiling parent a wordless, smoldering look before leaning in and locking their lips together. Her tongue immediately slipped out, seeking Cellia’s, and the two dueled, their breath quickening as they ground softly into each other.

Kaylinna was not long idle, however. Quickly recovering from the discovery of this incestuous pair, she dipped between their parted thighs and extended her own tongue, lapping teasingly at first Zalanthe’s dangling balls and then Cellia’s, swabbing gently at the sensitive skin and causing shudders and fresh globs of precum from both women, the slick fluid slowly trickling down to her waiting mouth as the two shared their all-consuming, forbidden kiss.

Cellia broke away first, her lips wet as she smiled up at her daughter, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Far be it for me to come between two young lovers, however,” she breathed. “I think it’s long past time the two of you got reacquainted.” Gently, she pushed Zalanthe off of her lap and stood herself, stepping aside and allowing the two all the room they would require.

Kaylinna wasted no time. Quickly returning to her feet, she wrapped her pale arms around Zalanthe’s form and pressed herself close, delivering her own knee-buckling kiss to the surprised rogue. Their breasts mashed together as Kaylinna unleashed years of pent-up lust in that one kiss, her hand quickly worming between their bodies to wrap around Zalanthe’s dripping cock and squeeze it insistently, as though saying, “[b80]Mine[/b80].” For her part, Zalanthe could only utter a soft whimper as she was unavoidably confronted and speedily conquered.

Taking control easily, the Sentinel carefully maneuvered Zalanthe as she kissed her, positioning herself so she could easily fall backwards onto the bed, pulling the wine-skinned beauty with her. As her tongue explored the intricacies of Zalanthe’s mouth, Kaylinna quickly wrapped her legs around the other girl’s waist, further asserting her dominance over the object of her desire.

Zalanthe flushed with surprise at Kaylinna’s deft “capture” of her, her eyes squeezed shut as she shared the kiss. Her hips were already rutting softly almost of their own accord as her leaking shaft was expertly fondled and squeezed, and she moaned into Kaylinna’s mouth in pleasure at the touch. She knew without looking that her mother was watching them with that same gentle smile, and this only made her hotter. Kaylinna was clearly thinking about other things, though, and with a start Zalanthe realized that the younger girl had maneuvered painfully hard organ to the entrance of her wet cunt.

Breaking the kiss, Kaylinna gave Zalanthe an arch look, her silvery eyes flashing with longing. “Just because I’m on the bottom,” she said, punctuating her words with another squeeze of Zalanthe’s cock, “doesn’t mean I’m not in control.” As she finished, her legs, locked around the rogue’s waist, pulling her closer, and with shared moans of blissful surprise, Zalanthe’s meat sunk halfway into Kaylinna’s slick hole. Both girls tensed as they locked together, relishing the feeling of Kaylinna’s internal walls stretching around Zalanthe’s thick shaft as each hard, veined inch was fed into her body.

Lewdly impaling herself on her former lover’s member was only the beginning though; as Zalanthe began to withdraw for a thrust, Kaylinna’s slimly muscled thighs exerted surprising leverage, and the wine-skinned girl gave a yelp of surprise as she was forced back inside that steamy hot cunt, her lover proving just how much she meant her earlier words. Each time Zalanthe withdrew, Kaylinna would apply that same pressure, forcing their groins back together, punctuated by the fleshy slap of their bodies colliding and Zalanthe’s smooth balls bouncing against Kaylinna’s wide rear. As the speed of her forced thrusts increased, Zalanthe swallowed hard and bit her lip, her mind a whirlwind of fleeting thoughts and heady feelings. For all that she had avoided Kaylinna, she couldn’t imagine this moment being any hotter.

There was a change in pressure on the bed as Cellia climbed on behind her, and with a start Zalanthe could feel her ass being spread wide, exposing her tight pucker to the open air before her mother’s finger trailed its way up her sweaty crack. One fingernail teased with the lightest of grazing touches around her asshole as she halted in her plowing of Kaylinna, her back arched and her eyes wide. Even that faint touch redoubled her eagerness, and she felt with surprising clarity a fresh squirt of precum force its way out of the head of her cock and into Kaylinna’s already sopping pussy. Her ass wiggled in the air almost of its own accord as she swallowed hard and slowly turned her head to regard Cellia, her emerald hair framing her questioning gaze.

“I said I wouldn’t come between you,” Cellia said with a wink as her finger traced another lazy circle around Zalanthe’s rosebud before slipping away, “but I didn’t say I’d stand idly by.” In full view of Zalanthe, having slipped out of her nightgown, Cellia took hold of her own hardness and aimed it at the entrance to her daughter’s exposed ass, quickly feeding the swollen head inside, sending ripples of pleasure through both. She could feel Zalanthe’s tight rear squeezing hard in response, exerting almost impossible pressure, but she pressed onward, carefully forcing in more of her slick, throbbing shaft. Zalanthe’s bottom quivered as her mother filled it, each steady push eliciting a tiny, plaintive yelp from her throat. Finally, Cellia could go no further, her cock swallowed by Zalanthe’s tight asshole, and with a final desperate moan, Kaylinna completed the tableau by flexing her thighs again, driving Zalanthe’s own member deeply into her cunt once again.

There the three women paused for several moments, locked together, both mother and daughter hilt deep, the trio shuddering in unison with barely controlled desire. Then, as if on cue, Zalanthe began to withdraw for another thrust, relishing the feeling of her mother’s dick shoved deeply up her ass. Cellia wasted little time enjoying that unique sensation though; as Zalanthe slid her cock halfway out of Kaylinna’s cunt, she drew back out of Zalanthe’s ass partway, only to ram back home insistently, the combined force of her thrust and Kaylinna’s flexing thighs driving Zalanthe deeply back inside with a choked gasp that was nearly a sob. Caught between those two urgently horny women, Zalanthe felt like a toy for their pleasure, able only to moan and revel in the feeling of being driven deeply into Kaylinna’s hole as her mother pounded her rear.

“Mmmmm,” Cellia breathed, her breasts jiggling softly as she pumped her member into Zalanthe’s ass, nipples achingly hard, “I should have done this a long time ago.” She laughed, a throaty chuckle filled with contentment, and added, “Believe me… this won’t be the last time, though.” As if to demonstrate, she slammed deeply inside Zalanthe’s ass again, their balls bouncing against each other as her daughter was forced into the depths of Kaylinna’s slippery cunt once again. Their thrusts and movements were picking up speed, all three women panting and moaning together as the pace increased, surrendering themselves to the carnal desire all three felt.

Kaylinna was not idle, either. Her eyes were treated to the wonderful sight of Zalanthe’s heavy breasts dangling above her, and with a wet slurp she lifted her head and sucked one of those hard nipples into her mouth, her teeth grazing across the sensitive nubbin as she suckled persistently, one hand rising to cup and massage the pliant flesh of Zalanthe’s unoccupied breast. The purple-skinned elf let out a fresh moan as she was fondled, and she could feel her belly flexing and her body shuddering as her orgasm approached.

All at once, it was upon her. Cellia drove herself deeply into Zalanthe ass with a powerful thrust, forcing her own cock completely into Kaylinna’s hole, while at the same time the Sentinel worried Zalanthe’s nipple between her teeth. Arching her back, Zalanthe screamed out into the night as she came hard, her long shaft pulsing inside Kaylinna’s cunt as she filled it with her thick seed. Spurt after spurt of cum forced its way out of her member, quickly overflowing and running down the crack of Kaylinna’s ass to the tousled bedcovers below. The delectable feeling of being filled by Zalanthe’s creamy ejaculate drove Kaylinna right over the edge with her, her cunt clamping down as Zalanthe’s nipple popped out of her mouth so she could cry out lustfully, squirts of her own slick juices joining the river of semen that poured from her molten pussy.

As the two girls writhed in orgasm below her, Cellia smiled warmly, her eyes closing in bliss as she felt her daughter’s ass squeeze tightly upon her own member, waves of orgasmic pleasure milking her thick shaft as she held it fully inside Zalanthe. She remained motionless, simply reveling in the pleasure of these two being reunited at her behest. As Zalanthe and Kaylinna began to slow in their rutting, however, Cellia wrapped her arms around her girl’s tummy and pulled the weakened elf away from Kaylinna, still leaving her dick firmly buried in Zalanthe’s rear. Shifting and turning, she used surprising strength to lift her daughter until she was sitting on the bed, Zalanthe perched in her lap, facing away from her.

“Does my little girl like how that feels,” Cellia questioned in a teasing voice, flexing so her enveloped shaft twitched deep within Zalanthe’s bowels. Zalanthe could only moan and wriggle in response, the words echoing her earlier dream, knowing Cellia delighted at the chance to make her child squirm. Her own member still pointed proudly up from between her thighs, hard as ever and sodden with the cum and juices from her coupling with Kaylinna. She’d already crossed the threshold, however, climbing atop her mother earlier and delivering a intimate kiss, signaling that she finally accepted the incestuous pairing and in fact delighted in it. This seemed but a small step in comparison.

“Y-you know… I do,” Zalanthe breathed, leaning back against Cellia’s body. The two elves glistened with sweat in the candlelight despite the cool early morning air, and Zalanthe relished the feeling of her mother’s pendulous breasts sliding against her back, nipples dragging against her flesh. Planting one hand on the bed, she began to leverage herself upward along her mother’s cock, only to sit back down upon it, her ass and breasts quivering. Her balls trembled heavily between her thighs, still swollen despite her orgasm, and she furthered her own pleasure by wrapping her free hand around her throbbing womanhood and pumping it urgently as she bounced up and down on Cellia’s member.

Kaylinna could only watch in awe as Cellia sodomized her daughter, her hips lifting upward each time Zalanthe came down, forcing the two to join tightly each time. The sounds of slick flesh slapping together filled the room as parent and child consummated their unspeakable lust for one another, Zalanthe riding her mother’s shaft with wild abandon as they sped toward release. Frozen and completely enthralled, Kaylinna slid two fingers into her pussy, squishing through the cum Zalanthe had already deposited there, worming them around inside her sloppy hole as she watched.

Cellia’s hands cupping and supporting Zalanthe’s breasts, and her tongue playing teasingly along the damp skin of her throat, were all too much for the poor elf. With a final thud downward, her cock rippled as she exploded in orgasm again, shooting ribbons of creamy seed out several feet in front of her, the gooey liquid splattering against the richly toned wood of the bedroom floor. The sight of her daughter giving in brought Cellia right along with her. Throwing her head back, her mouth worked silently as she delivered a thick, juicy load into the depths of Zalanthe’s ass, her member spewing an unbelievable amount into that tight bottom.

As their panting softened and their spurts lessened and finally stopped, silence fell over the room as the gravity of what had occurred washed over Zalanthe. There was a long moment where none of the three spoke or moved, but she ended that by leaning her head back on her mother’s shoulder and letting out a contented sigh. “Mmmm,” Zalanthe breathed, her eyes distant as they gazed unfocused up at the ceiling, “that was nice.” Cellia responded by simply hugging her daughter closer, her hands still full of Zalanthe’s sweaty breasts, and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“On the other hand,” Zalanthe said after a moment of silence, her lips quirking downward into a slight frown, “we need to talk.” Now that the lustful moment had passed, she was reminded of her introspective walk home and the secret that Cellia had kept from her all these years. Worming her way out of her mother’s lap, the cock popping out of her ass with a slight dribble of leftover cum, which in turn caused her to blush hotly, Zalanthe nevertheless rounded on her mother with an intent gaze.

“Shandris tells me you were dismissed… kicked out of the Sentinels,” she said evenly, placing her hands on her hips, her softening shaft dangling between her thighs lewdly, the reminder of their copulation moments ago taking some of the heat out of her words. “Why?”

Kaylinna could only shift her gaze blankly between the two, clearly not expecting a confrontation to immediately follow their acts. Cellia, on the other hand, looked genuinely surprised for one of the first times in Zalanthe’s life, her eyes widening slightly as her shoulders slumped. She was silent for several moments as their eyes met and regarded one another, and then she spoke.

“I suppose you had to find out sooner or later…”