Read Online Got MILF? by Laura Lovecraft - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Lovecraft
Tags: Fantasy, blowjob, oral sex, teacher, Cougar, Rite of passage, hardcore sex, outdoor sex, student, milf, sexy older woman, nature spirit, Eternal being, Russian folklore
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sense at all, she would have had them burned. Instead, he found a heavy pair of dark trousers, which fastened at the waist with metal buttons rather than a zipper. A bright red shirt with bone buttons followed, overlaid by a vest embroidered with intricate patterns of green and blue. Thick wool stockings and a pair of light boots lined with fleece were set on one side, ready for his feet. He put them on and grinned. He had thought he would never walk without pain again.
He took care of his hair with a wooden comb he found laying on a tray, then brushed his chin with his fingers, feeling the ragged growth of two weeks' worth of beard.
This, he thought, will have to go. There was no sign of a safety razor anywhere in the room, but he did turn up an old straight razor, still sharp. Coating his face with the soft soap from the tub, he lathered his whiskers, then carefully shaved, scraping his face clean.
When he was finished, he examined his face, startled to see a reflection that reminded him of how he had looked in college, before a sedentary lifestyle as a weatherman had put too many pounds around his waist. His hand dropped to his ribs, feeling the prominent bones, then the solid muscles in his abs. His chest and arm muscles were also much bigger than they had ever been, he found to his pleasant surprise.
He snorted. You could make a mint off this. Want to lose weight and gain muscle definition, guys? Just survive a helicopter crash in the Russian Arctic, then haul a sledge made of a door mechanism fifty miles across a frozen sea. No problem. Supplies are limited, call now.
He cut off his giggles before they could mount to full-fledged hysteria. He took one last look in the mirror, then went in search of something to eat.
~~~~~
Mother Snegurochka was satisfied so far. A quick perusal of the kitchen had turned up some dried grain, which she was busily making into porridge. The icebox gave her bacon, which she was frying with potatoes from the pantry. There was even honey to sweeten the porridge.
She glared at the kitchen. It hadn't given her honey for nearly thirty years, and it had been at least ten since she had tasted bacon.
You know the rules. You are given food and clothing and resources that match the world's faith in you.
She decided to forgive the house, knowing it was bound to the same laws which governed her. She smiled slightly, running her tongue inside her mouth, delighting to feel all of her teeth back where they belonged. They felt slightly straighter than they had been just a few moments ago, when she had checked on the young man in her care.
He was a happy surprise so far, she thought. Too many of the sacrifices had been hulking brutes from the native tribes, rancid with the reindeer fat they wore to keep off the cold, angry with their fate and violent. Others were small children, left out to die when starvation and plague stalked the land, terrified of their new home. And far too often than she cared for, the sacrifice would be an unwilling one, a terrified young woman, bound and bleeding. Or dead.
She did the best she could for all of them, but not many survived for long here in the World Below. The children, torn away from all they knew, soon pined and died. The men, too often, went mad with hate, seeking to kill her or to take their pleasure on her unwillingly. None of the women had survived a season with her, their life force giving out against the opposing forces which bound Snegurochka here.
Every so often, one came who was able to survive. Usually a young man, inclined to poetry and music, with a supple mind that could learn to live apart from all that he had known. Snegurochka sighed as she remembered the last such, a young shaman who had given his life for his people in the years before the tsars had united the quarreling peoples of Rus into one nation.
She sighed at the memory of his touch, and one hand groped at her breast. She stopped and snarled, hating the thick dress, hating her
He took care of his hair with a wooden comb he found laying on a tray, then brushed his chin with his fingers, feeling the ragged growth of two weeks' worth of beard.
This, he thought, will have to go. There was no sign of a safety razor anywhere in the room, but he did turn up an old straight razor, still sharp. Coating his face with the soft soap from the tub, he lathered his whiskers, then carefully shaved, scraping his face clean.
When he was finished, he examined his face, startled to see a reflection that reminded him of how he had looked in college, before a sedentary lifestyle as a weatherman had put too many pounds around his waist. His hand dropped to his ribs, feeling the prominent bones, then the solid muscles in his abs. His chest and arm muscles were also much bigger than they had ever been, he found to his pleasant surprise.
He snorted. You could make a mint off this. Want to lose weight and gain muscle definition, guys? Just survive a helicopter crash in the Russian Arctic, then haul a sledge made of a door mechanism fifty miles across a frozen sea. No problem. Supplies are limited, call now.
He cut off his giggles before they could mount to full-fledged hysteria. He took one last look in the mirror, then went in search of something to eat.
~~~~~
Mother Snegurochka was satisfied so far. A quick perusal of the kitchen had turned up some dried grain, which she was busily making into porridge. The icebox gave her bacon, which she was frying with potatoes from the pantry. There was even honey to sweeten the porridge.
She glared at the kitchen. It hadn't given her honey for nearly thirty years, and it had been at least ten since she had tasted bacon.
You know the rules. You are given food and clothing and resources that match the world's faith in you.
She decided to forgive the house, knowing it was bound to the same laws which governed her. She smiled slightly, running her tongue inside her mouth, delighting to feel all of her teeth back where they belonged. They felt slightly straighter than they had been just a few moments ago, when she had checked on the young man in her care.
He was a happy surprise so far, she thought. Too many of the sacrifices had been hulking brutes from the native tribes, rancid with the reindeer fat they wore to keep off the cold, angry with their fate and violent. Others were small children, left out to die when starvation and plague stalked the land, terrified of their new home. And far too often than she cared for, the sacrifice would be an unwilling one, a terrified young woman, bound and bleeding. Or dead.
She did the best she could for all of them, but not many survived for long here in the World Below. The children, torn away from all they knew, soon pined and died. The men, too often, went mad with hate, seeking to kill her or to take their pleasure on her unwillingly. None of the women had survived a season with her, their life force giving out against the opposing forces which bound Snegurochka here.
Every so often, one came who was able to survive. Usually a young man, inclined to poetry and music, with a supple mind that could learn to live apart from all that he had known. Snegurochka sighed as she remembered the last such, a young shaman who had given his life for his people in the years before the tsars had united the quarreling peoples of Rus into one nation.
She sighed at the memory of his touch, and one hand groped at her breast. She stopped and snarled, hating the thick dress, hating her
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