You watch the mantis go for a long moment -- long enough to make sure that she isn't circling back around. Satisfied you aren't about to suffer a counter-attack, you turn back to the prone harpy in time to see her groggily rising up to a sitting position. She rubs at her head with her feather-shrouded hands and groans, looking up at you with big, golden eyes.
"W-who're you..." the harpy groans, blinking. "Oh! You saved me!"
You walk over and offer her a hand, careful to keep your staff close at hand. Harpies are well known to jump travelers -- especially those with dicks -- after all. She takes your hand gingerly and you haul her up, ending with her wobbling on her leg-talons a little closer than you'd intended. You're left suddenly aware of how naked she is: aside from the little patch of down around her sex and the feathers of her wings, she's bare as a babe, leaving broad egg-bearing hips, a plump behind, and perky breasts all on display; the latter so close now that her rosy little teats brush against the front of your robe, stiff as spearpoints after her encounter with the beast.
"What was that thing?" you ask, slowly peeling your gaze off the harpy's chest. It's not easy, especially with tight bulge forming in the front of your robes to match the dampness still staining the other woman's thighs.
"I don't know," she shrugs. "Been here since before my sisters and I moved into the castle, though! Makes it real scary to go anywhere on your own, knowing she's stalking around. Guess I got careless!"
The harpy manages an uncertain laugh and chews on her lower lip, not quite meeting your gaze. "I'm Tyroa, by the way. Thanks for saving me... the last thing I needed was to get pumped full of her eggs before I got any of my own."
"Remielle," you say, tapping a claw to your chest. "You said you and your... sisters... live in the castle there?"
"Uh-huh! We got driven out of our old nest by a bunch of nasty cat-folk, but Queen Miria found us a new place to live in the ruins. Nobody bothers us there... except the minotaurs. And sometimes ogres. But none of them can climb up the towers, cuz there's no stairs anymore, so we're safe there!"
Ogres and minotaurs? Uh-oh.
Before you can think too much on the new problems you'll be facing, Tyroa takes a step back and bounces expectantly on her avian legs, which does some truly amazing things to her jiggly behind and unbound breasts.
Your attention is suddenly and completely drawn back to the stiffness in your loins. You can feel your pierced crown grinding urgently against the soft fabric of your panties, mere inches away from the dampened, steamy flesh of the harpy's spread sex. You shift your legs uncomfortably, but can't quite hide your growing bulge before the harpy's gaze wanders down.
Her eyes go wide. "O-oh! You..."
Awkwardly, you rub the back of your head and mumble something about salamander battle-lust. As if that's the cause, and not the perky, naked ball of feathers so close that you can feel the heat of her nethers on your legs, not to mention having gotten to see her all but split open on the mantis's strange organ mere moments ago...
"No, I mean, wow!" Tyroa beams, bouncing giddily. "All my sisters said there wasn't anything but nasty monsters for miles around, but I didn't believe them. I told them I could totally find a really good egg-daddy and look!"
Before you can blink, one of her feathery hands is pressed against the front of your robe, groping at your turgid 'mander-cock through the sheer fabric. "Well, egg-momma in this case. Even better! Why don't you let me thank you proper for saving me, Remi? How about it?"
"W-who're you..." the harpy groans, blinking. "Oh! You saved me!"
You walk over and offer her a hand, careful to keep your staff close at hand. Harpies are well known to jump travelers -- especially those with dicks -- after all. She takes your hand gingerly and you haul her up, ending with her wobbling on her leg-talons a little closer than you'd intended. You're left suddenly aware of how naked she is: aside from the little patch of down around her sex and the feathers of her wings, she's bare as a babe, leaving broad egg-bearing hips, a plump behind, and perky breasts all on display; the latter so close now that her rosy little teats brush against the front of your robe, stiff as spearpoints after her encounter with the beast.
"What was that thing?" you ask, slowly peeling your gaze off the harpy's chest. It's not easy, especially with tight bulge forming in the front of your robes to match the dampness still staining the other woman's thighs.
"I don't know," she shrugs. "Been here since before my sisters and I moved into the castle, though! Makes it real scary to go anywhere on your own, knowing she's stalking around. Guess I got careless!"
The harpy manages an uncertain laugh and chews on her lower lip, not quite meeting your gaze. "I'm Tyroa, by the way. Thanks for saving me... the last thing I needed was to get pumped full of her eggs before I got any of my own."
"Remielle," you say, tapping a claw to your chest. "You said you and your... sisters... live in the castle there?"
"Uh-huh! We got driven out of our old nest by a bunch of nasty cat-folk, but Queen Miria found us a new place to live in the ruins. Nobody bothers us there... except the minotaurs. And sometimes ogres. But none of them can climb up the towers, cuz there's no stairs anymore, so we're safe there!"
Ogres and minotaurs? Uh-oh.
Before you can think too much on the new problems you'll be facing, Tyroa takes a step back and bounces expectantly on her avian legs, which does some truly amazing things to her jiggly behind and unbound breasts.
Your attention is suddenly and completely drawn back to the stiffness in your loins. You can feel your pierced crown grinding urgently against the soft fabric of your panties, mere inches away from the dampened, steamy flesh of the harpy's spread sex. You shift your legs uncomfortably, but can't quite hide your growing bulge before the harpy's gaze wanders down.
Her eyes go wide. "O-oh! You..."
Awkwardly, you rub the back of your head and mumble something about salamander battle-lust. As if that's the cause, and not the perky, naked ball of feathers so close that you can feel the heat of her nethers on your legs, not to mention having gotten to see her all but split open on the mantis's strange organ mere moments ago...
"No, I mean, wow!" Tyroa beams, bouncing giddily. "All my sisters said there wasn't anything but nasty monsters for miles around, but I didn't believe them. I told them I could totally find a really good egg-daddy and look!"
Before you can blink, one of her feathery hands is pressed against the front of your robe, groping at your turgid 'mander-cock through the sheer fabric. "Well, egg-momma in this case. Even better! Why don't you let me thank you proper for saving me, Remi? How about it?"
