Scar delicately dipped his hands into the waters of the quiet, slow-flowing stream, cupping and raising his them to his lips to draw in a cold and refreshing sip of water, splashing the rest across the soft features of his face to revitalise him after a long day scouting out the city before him. He looked down as the water settled once more, his gaze settling upon his own reflection, he pursed his lips in a moment of concentration, brushing a loose strand of his silky hair back behind one long, pointed ear.

Scar was an Elf. Not a unique trait, there was, after all, a race of the slender, pointy eared things, hiding in the woods in places far off and secluded, but Scar stood out among them as being different, a self-proclaimed outcast and wanderer.

The Elves of the world were a reclusive sort, for most races and people seeing one was in itself a rarity and interacting with one was unheard of, save for the luckiest of trusted traders. Elves, when they travelled outside of their enclaves, went about as quietly and stealthily as they could, content to mingle only with themselves, trading with outsiders only when completely necessary and even going so far as to conducting such tasks with the minimum of contact and conversation.

This reclusiveness had fueled all manner of rumour and speculation about their kind, about their future plans, the means and motives of whatever government they had if any, and in the less reputable communities, of their sexual prowess which was less a rumour, likely due to how surprisingly well documented it was.

There was, according to the histories no species more sexually skilled than those of Elven Sirs and Ladies. Legends went so far as to tell that in ancient times and early civilisation humans bred solely for the propagation of the species, until they met the race who taught them the elvish arts, which brought about the discovery of sex for pleasure through secret techniques that humans still use today, though in a less graceful form, adding their own crude, somewhat animalistic twist to things.

This certainly hadn’t helped the Elves opinion of the other races. When required to interact with other species they often found themselves the targets of pathetic but determined flirtation and harassment. Despite the fact that in hundreds of years not a single Elf maiden had given herself to anyone outside of Elf society, it didn’t stop them all from constantly trying it on with them.

The same, however, could not be said for the males, for whom it was almost certain the legends and histories of their races prowess were solely based on. Once in a generation, an Elf male would find themselves spurred by a spontaneous urge for adventure and irresistible wanderlust. They would set out to explore the world, interacting with the ‘lesser’ races, to learn all he could with the ultimate goal of returning to his people and teach them about any new methods, philosophies, and news from exotic far-off lands.

While these males were somewhat frowned upon for their lack of conservative tendencies and for not following the traditions, the knowledge they returned bore an untold wealth for a secluded people and upon returning, if they returned, would often be regarded as wise masters, forgiven of their trespasses in lieu of the value of what they returned.

It’s often noted that the paths these wanderlust-driven males took could be easily tracked by recording the age of the sudden crop of half-elves that sprouted up in each village, town and city they had passed through, with many a broken marriage and guilty woman accompanying the young half-elflings with their slightly pointed ears and often mischievous glint in their eyes. Though the elven traits diluted quickly down the generations, having a half-elf in the family was often considered a charm of good health and longevity.

Scar, in his youth, had been gripped by this wanderlust. Each second he spent among the trees of his people was an oppression which weighed heavily on his willowy shoulders. Each lesson a bore, each courtship a passing fancy. The day of his adulthood, when he was officially declared on his name day to be a full adult in Elven society he announced his intentions and ambitions to leave. To travel the lands, to learn the news and to seek new technologies to help their kind.

His dreams were met with speculation, but could not be denied.

So he set out wandering the lands, keeping primarily to himself. He observed, watched and read, easily picking up the language of the common folk from overheard conversations and papers. He soon learned that several of the other races had been at war, only recently coming to peaceful terms, bringing a desire for trade and prosperity to the war-torn populaces, forcing co-operation despite the distrust between the races. A city, Yulani, due to its location, had become a sort of de facto capital for all inter-race mingling. It was said that within its walls Yulani had every species, every trade good and probably, every crime.

Scar had pondered upon this for some time. The races had always been separate, interacting with each other, yes, but maintaining the integrity of their borders through regular small skirmishers small claim warring. There had before never been a city of such a mix of peoples and prospects.

He questioned why he would spend almost all of his time travelling the lands and camping on roads when all of the world had been brought together for him in this crockpot of a city? Where all the news, discoveries and peoples mixed? Well, not all of the peoples actually. They were missing an Elf.

Following his decision to use the advantages of the city, Scar had spent weeks exploring its streets and it’s secrets, seeing in his discoveries all manner of new and terrifying races. Humans, orcs, dwarves, goblins and gnomes he was all previously aware of, but there were wolves, nagas, arachnids, creatures he couldn’t even identify, all speaking the common tongue for common gains.

He had spent a long time debating with himself how he would occupy his time here, how he would make the coin he would require to put himself up in any form of decent accommodation that would allow him the time to speak and listen to the peoples of the land, not to mention cause a small population boom in half-elves, as was only tradition, of course.

Following much time and thought he found himself settling on the Thorned Rose, now hiring. An old tavern, situated between a stable and a smithy it provided the ideal location for your middling patron to sleep, drink and generally be merry.

The landlady was a formidable blonde, mature woman, perhaps in her early forties with a plush, full figure that to him seemed enticingly exotic given that elves were at best lithe and at worst basically sticks, save for the occasional exceptional specimen, which he supposed he was, with his thick thighs and butt.

He reckoned as a barman he would be at the forefront of conversation with all those who came in, able to overhear any form of conversation and all manner of news from across the bar with his superior hearing, Elvish ears weren’t just for show after all.

Despite his lack of training and experience in the area, he was sure he could persuade the landlady that having the only elf in the city pouring her drinks and serving them food would be a surefire way to attract a steady stream of newly intrigued customers. With his reasoning sounded and his arguments prepared, his mind was made up. This would be his adventure, Scar, the Elf Barman of the Thorned Rose Inn.

In some time he found himself waiting outside in the dark, wearing a black and hooded robe to disguise his nature and leaving him to blend seamlessly into the shadows of a doorway. He watched her, her top, as was typical with women of her trade, was displaying a generous portion of cleavage, her blonde hair tied back with a few stray wisps of hair loose around her, eyes fierce as she wielded a broom, all but sweeping her drunk and apparently all female clientele of the night out onto the street, shouting at them as she did to keep them moving, but treating them fairer than they probably deserved given their state and her level of frustration. She ensured their coats were on and their pockets secure, a woman of some morals, then.

She stood in the doorway for a few long moments, watching as her drunk regulars gravitated towards each other, forming a ball of mixed race women that all leaned on the other for support, one hoisting a bottle she had hidden under her coat, raising cheer and then raising song, a tune that brutally offended Scar’s delicate ears. The ball of drunkards rocked down the street, passing the bottle and singing with one another.

The woman shook her head with a small smile and stepped back inside, the evening becoming quiet. Scar steeled himself, this would be his first real interaction with a non-Elf since his adventure began. His previous extreme forays of, ‘I’ll buy blank. Here’s the money.’, didn’t really count in his mind as being as important as what was to follow.

After pausing to make sure she wasn’t ushering anyone else out of the tavern he stepped forward, pushing open the almost shut door and letting himself inside. The smell of beer and sweat hit him like a wall, overpowering him for a moment and causing the opening words on his lips to falter.

The landlady let out an audible sigh, “I told you fuckers to go home!” she called out as she wiped down the bar glancing over her shoulder and seeming surprised, she eyed the dark, hooded, mysterious figure with some disdain, leaning forward casually, masking the motion of her hand as it reached under the counter, likely towards some weapon he imagined. “…Room and board mayhaps?” she asked, voice casual, but with an air of, ‘You don’t want to mess with me.’

“Actually..” Scar started in his politest of tones, voice light and almost musical, “I was wondering about that ‘for hire’ sign?” he asked, lifting his head and throwing back his hood, a dramatic flourish he had practised.

The landlady, Mayla, stared at the impossible sight, before her stood a beautiful elven maiden, her hair long, flowing down to her waist, red like amber and fire intertwined in strands, her skin pale and flawless, her eyes a vibrant forest green. She was flat chested sure, but everything else about her screamed of her femininity.

Her face was oval shaped, with delicately arched eyebrows and a straight but small nose, wide eyes, defined cheekbones and plump lips. Her body was slender, narrow shoulders lessening into a tight waist before flaring out into broad curving hips, she didn’t doubt her ass and thighs would be perfectly sculpted too.

“Er..” Scar interrupted, he knew his presence often put humans off a little but they usually still tried to converse with him. “Are you okay over there Miss?..”

And the Elf’s voice! So sweet and heavenly, it brought a blush to Mayla’s cheeks.

“An Elf lass? Looking for work here? You’re joking me on, right?” Mayla asked, hands no longer reaching for a weapon, instead clutching the side of the bar as if to reaffirm her reality.

Scar blinked, standing up a little straighter and pursing his full lips into a pout. “I’ll have you know I’m a male.” he stated, indignantly, his cheeks blushing a little out of embarrassment, “And I’ll have you know I’m a particularly masculine male for my kind!” a lie, but she wouldn’t have any comparison to draw off of, he thought and hoped.

A male? Even after he had stated it she couldn’t see it in his voice or in his body. Usually, with the more androgynous of forms, you could tell the true sex of any given person based off of their mannerisms, the way they moved, the way their tone inflected certain sounds in the voice. But even with this in mind, and a lifetime of experience dealing with people everything about this newcomer seemed to shun the moniker, ‘masculine’.

She lifted her hand to try and tidy up the stray strands of blonde that scattered about her head, “If you say so, sir.. But the question still rightly stands, you want a job? Here? You? Really?”

He swept off his cloak, revealing the fine elven clothing beneath it, study and made with travellers in mind it was designed for requiring the minimum of maintenance on extended journeys through wood and forest. He was indeed, as she had suspected well gifted below the waist. At least in the terms of his more feminine assets of his alluring curves, no bulge was forthcoming to his proclaimed masculine attributes.

He moved to place his hands on his hips, again an alluringly feminine action, even as he defended his masculinity. “I do!” this was proving to be a long conversation for him. He kept his responses short now so when she grilled him with questions and queries he would be fit to provide the answers required to secure the job.

She eyed him over critically, this made no logical sense to her, she had heard stories, of course, about the travelling elves, the half-breeds that lingered paid testament to the validity of the tales, but that was happening here? To her? And he wasn’t even simply passing through. He wanted to work here.

The money that could bring in, the revenue and interest alone would make it a worthwhile venture, if only for a week, even if he spent the whole week slacking off she would earn more from him than she would spend on any salary.

“…..You’re hired,” she said, simply. “You work second-noon bell to the last bell. Your pay..” ..Would he know what a proper pay would be? She had to keep him close, if she could try, even just a day would have her tavern flooded with patrons, “…Your pay will be room, board and any tips you make. It’s more than a fair deal for you.” she said, tone flat.

He stared at her, it was well known that the elves were masters of deception and understanding, a fact they themselves encouraged to be known. It was about as true as his masculinity, however.

“No good,” he said, simply, causing her to visibly deflate, thinking she had been caught. “Not just any room, I want a room with a bed in it. With a pillow too.” he hesitated, “Though that last point is negotiable.”

She stared at him, incredulous. Every room in every tavern had a bed. Usually with two pillows, unless you were in a particularly cheap and rough part of the town. She could see in his eyes that he thought she was mulling the deal over. Like she would walk past a gold brick in the street and hesitate to pick it up.

“You drive a hard bargain. But you have a deal, Mr…” she prompted, her voice leading.

“Scar.” he declared, proudly. A strong name in any race, he knew.

“Scar..” she repeated, rolling it over her tongue and finding it had a bitter taste. She would resolve that soon enough. “Well Scar..” could she push her luck? She had to. Once in a lifetime opportunities were just that after all. “The room I’m going to give you is currently occupied by a guest, but you should stay here tonight anyway. It’s…” she hesitated, thinking up a suitable lie, “It’s customary for us to spend the night together anyway. As my new worker, we should.. Get to know each other a little better.”

Scar tilted his head, making a mental note of that. He was already learning much of human customs that were obscure his him and his kind. Though he hadn’t expected his impending conquests to begin quite so early, her thick, curvy form allured him. All the elvish girls were so skinny it drove him to despair. Sometimes he just wondered what it would be like to lay with someone in an embrace and not be poked by bones.

“If that is your custom, I will politely accept.” he nodded curtly, brushing his hair back behind his shoulders, using his long pointed ears to pin it in place.

“Very kind of you, my name is Mayla and welcome to the Thorned Rose.. You’ll start tomorrow as a barmai- er.. Barman. You’ll do as I tell you when I tell you and the work won’t all be glamorous. But if you do a good job I reckon you’ll enjoy it?” she phrased that as a question, unsure as to what his motives even were for wanting a job here.

“Mayla! A beautiful name for a beautiful human..” he pursed his lips, thinking back to the journals he had read of previous elves adventures, where he spent many an evening pouring over the more lurid contents of their sexual conquests. ‘Pay attention to their actions, women will often try to hide the features they are most self-conscious about around you, focus on complimenting these.’

He glanced up a little and tilted his head curiously, “I must say Mayla, your hair is simply divine, it must take you hours to style it in the morning to come out quite so perfect.”

Mayla felt herself blushing as she stared at the gorgeous elf, that had to be one of the corniest attempts at flirtation she had come across in quite some time, but damn it all if it didn’t work. She swallowed, feeling herself stir beneath her long skirts.. “N-no I just.. I just tie it back..” she answered plainly, cursing herself inwardly.

He gasped, a tad too dramatically, “You mean to say you merely tie it back and yet you produce such an effect?” his eyes all but sparkled in the dim light and Mayla felt herself flush even brighter.

She panicked, flustered by his words, so crap but so impactful, “A-ah! I need to go clean the thing with the thing at the place.” she supplied as an excuse, truly a masterclass in the art if ever there had been one. As she darted towards a small room behind the bar, a kitchen and storage area she motioned back to the stairs. “My rooms are upstairs and at the back!” she said in passing as she all but fled into the back room.

Scar watched the delightfully thick human retreat from his compliments and smiled in self-satisfaction, glancing down the way she had motioned. He shrugged lightly to himself and made his way down the corridors. He didn’t have much in the way of belongings, a dwindling pouch of gold at his waist had seen him this far and the only outfit he needed was the one he wore, which he cleaned regularly. He arrived at her quarters and eyed her bed with some reverence! Spacious and seemingly soft, to his delight it had multiple pillows. Perhaps this wouldn’t be quite so bad after all.

Mayla watched herself in her own reflection, a small mirror in the kitchens she often used to check her appearance throughout the night displayed the slightly frayed and very flushed woman before her. She wasn’t quite the youthful splendour she had been, she supposed, age affected them all eventually, but she was by no means unattractive. Where she had been almost waiflike in her early years she had filled out slightly in her middling, not enough to be fat, but enough she supposed to be of a fuller figure, to hide the onset of any wrinkles.

However, even now, flirtatious patrons trying their luck were no new thing, in fact, it was a daily occurrence, one, in her line of work, you got used to and learned to brush off. But this elf had gotten to her, she could see it in her own gaze. His compliments, pathetically weak really, had made her act like a giddy girl with her first boy crush.

She blinked. “Oh.. Shit..” did she really say all that? Had that really been all real? Had she really just talked an Elf into her bed? What was she thinking? She hadn’t been. That had been the trick. She had just.. Just wanted him. She blushed glancing down, thinking about how the hell she would proceed. She didn’t just want him in her bed, she wanted him on the end of her cock.

Mayla went back to tidying the tavern, closing up for the night and cleaning any messes that were too obvious or sticky to leave for future Mayla to sort out, all the while the thoughts of what she had done were spinning around in her head.

There’s an Elf. In my bedroom. Waiting for me. Mayla. Me. What?

The day had started, continued and had almost finished up until that point like any other, but now she found her comforting routine of work hampered by a tent in her skirts. The feminine beauty of an elf had proclaimed to be male, quite defensively too. How was she going to turn that, and him, so he would be the one taking and not the one giving, as she assumed he presumed to do.

Well, he hadn’t even known about beds. Weren’t elves supposed to be all knowing? But she didn’t get that sense from him. She started to form a plan in her mind. But she would have to be cool and casual about it. She would have to not freak out, again anyway, she would have to disarm him as he had disarmed her, with her words. He seemed eager to fit in, to the point where he had agreed to work of all things, and here of all places.

As she finished up she again checked herself in the mirror. She used some cold water to reduce her flush and clear her thoughts, looking at herself and brushing down her top and skirts, adjusting her corset to better display her bountiful cleavage. Though, if her plan proceeded as she intended, any adjustments to her clothing would matter only briefly before adding to the decoration of her floor.

Mayla stepped out into the corridor and glanced down between the rooms, there were only a few guests staying here, mostly tired travellers just looking for a place to rest that wasn’t too expensive or too grimy. A niche she was only slightly proud to occupy.

She pushed open the door to her room, almost cautiously, half expecting the Elf to have been a figment of madness brought on by her work and to find her room empty, but no. He sat on the edge of her bed, looking down curiously, bouncing up and down ever so lightly, testing it.

Taking a deep breath she stepped into the room, his ears twitching as he looked up at her, cocking his head to one side as she closed the door, she looked at him, displeased!

“Any particular reason you do me the rudeness of still being clothed?” she asked, adding a curt tone to her voice as she bolted her door and glanced across at him, sitting on a stool to remove her shoes.

“Wait… Should I not be wearing clothes?” he asked, his voice light and surprised, not in the least bit apprehensive.

“Well it’s your first night and you’re staying with me, so what do you think?” she asked, glancing at him, speaking as if the right answer was common knowledge, playing on his seeming need to be on the correct side of an answer.

“…No?” he wagered, sounding a little unsure.

“Well if you know the answer, why are you still wearing clothes?” This was probably wrong she thought, coercing a vulnerable Elf into her bed. But it was easy to justify, on a wider scale of things her actions might just prevent another outbreak of those cursed half-elves. On the smaller scale, she wanted to see if the legends regarding the elvish arts in bed extended to the famed males being on the receiving end for a change.

He eyed her, a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but as she started to move her hands behind her back, beginning to unlace her corsetry he realised that if she was undressing to him, a total stranger then it must truly be the custom. These humans were such fickle creatures. It seemed in the years since the last elf had returned from his adventures their customs and mannerisms had all but completely changed, unless, more likely, this was a custom saved only for employers and employees, no elf previous to him had ever been an employee to a human after all.

Shrugging he too started to undress, humming casually as he did so, not noticing that Mayla’s eyes followed him like a hawk. The blonde woman couldn’t believe for an instant that that had worked. If only she could keep this up, not lose her cool, maybe, just maybe..

He untied the ties to his top, letting fabric shuffle off his narrow shoulders to lay on the bed beside him, his hands casually moving to his waist to start fiddling with the ties there. Mayla watched entranced, his porcelain skin revealed to her, his flawless body reminding her of a piece of art she had seen in her youth, although that sculpture of a goddess had nothing the view of a shirtless elf.

She swallowed, she had stopped undressing in her distraction and tore her gaze away from him, focusing on her own clothing, her hands were shaking, making the loops of her corsetry a nightmare to deal with.

She hadn’t heard him move, hadn’t even noticed a shadow play across the room, she just felt his hands on hers causing her to jump in surprise!

He laughed a little, urging her hands away as his own hands deftly and skillfully moved to help her. “Here let me.. That thing looks like a nightmare.. I can’t imagine why you would encase such a perfect form inside such a thing, it must hide your true beauty..”

Mayla felt her cheeks flush once more, what was it about him that was making her so susceptible to his words? She faced this sort of thing day in day out, what was it?

“There we go..” he said as he finished, his hands moving unashamedly to help her off with her top! She found herself blushing at his brashness, but then again, why wouldn’t he be so bold after what she had told him?

She felt the clothing that had been tight around her all but peel away from her skin, wincing as she did, she was never at her best when undressing from a hot, long work shift, she knew her skin would show red lines where the corsetry had dug into her and doubted she smelled of roses, wondering just how sensitive the elves senses really were.

Scar set the clothing aside and let out a worried little murr of noise, his silken soft hands pressing into the backs of her shoulders, concerned with the red lines. “You couldn’t be more perfect if the Lai themselves had made you..” he said, but his voice was soft, his fingers tracing the marks on her skin.

His words about her echoed her own thoughts about him and it was then that she twigged what it was about him that was making her knees weak. His words were cheesy, yes, but the way he said them were just so genuine, so honest. Everyone before had said them in jest or in an over dramatised way, but the way he spoke made her almost believe him when he spoke of her.

She looked over her shoulder at him and his concerned expression brightened into a smile. “May I fetch some hot water? You look like you could use the relaxation of the heat..”

“I… I.. Sure?..” she responded meekly, again finding herself on the back foot.

He smiled broader and nodded, standing and making for the door to her rooms, casually unbolting and walking from her room, topless, his back obscured by the lengths of his hair, cascading down his back.

She sat on the stool, arms folded beneath her substantial breasts, supporting them as she tried once more to compose herself. It felt like every step forward she took to claiming him he knocked her one step back with a mysterious charm.

She bit her lip, constantly losing the initiative like this wasn’t doing her goal any favours. She would have to bring her plans forward, take a risk..

Scar returned to the room after a short while, having found his way to filling a bucket of water, heating it and bringing it and a clean cloth back to her rooms. He pushed open the door, humming a sweet melody before setting the items down and closing the door again behind him.

He turned his attention to Mayla who sat in the stool, fully unclothed now, her legs crossed modestly and her arms under her breasts. She looked delicious, breasts among elves were rarely more than bumps of flesh, they could never fill out a dress like this woman did, her maturity and her figure pushed him to lust for her, so exotic to him, too beautiful.

He set the items down near her and stood in front of her. He was shorter than her by a few inches, but with her sitting she had to look up at him, his hands at his waist, untying his trousers and urging them to the floor, not in a flirtatious way, not striping seductively for her, simply undressing as he thought was appropriate.

Mayla watched as his pants were worried over the fullness of his hips and thighs, falling to the floor and revealing himself to her in all his glory. He was undoubted a beauty, without going any further she knew the legends of an elves prowess must be true although..

“Oh?..” she said, a little surprised as her eyes drifted to his manhood.

“What?..” he asked curiously, not noticing the line of her gaze as he dropped to his knees, wetting the cloth and looking up to her with a disarming smile, charming and enticing all at the same time.

“Nothing it’s just… Well, it’s just part of me was hoping to receive tonight.. But it seems I’ll have to give..” she said, voice demure as he took the heel of her foot in one delicate hand, the other starting to wash her with the hot cloth. The penetrating heat felt heavenly.

“..I don’t understand?..” he asked curiously, sliding his cloth and fingers up the smoothness of her legs, caressing and cleaning her, letting the heat work into her muscles, relaxing her.

“Well.. You know? When two people get together? In a bed together?..” she asked, causing his ears to perk up, a sly smile playing at his lips.

“Like we’re going to?”

She blushed at his forwardness, even as it fed into her plans, “W-well.. Yes. It’s just the.. Well. The -larger- partner,” she motioned towards the elves groin with one foot, “Tends to give and the smaller tends to receive..”

He furrowed his brow some but smiled, eying her curiously, “Well yes? That’s how it goes.. The large male..” he too motioned down to his own member, which wasn’t exactly small, but didn’t exactly fit with the word large either, “..Puts himself into a female. Who I guess you could say is smaller in that department?”

She looked relieved and smiled as he started on her other foot and calf, “Oh good. It’s good to know humans and elves have some customs in common.”

Scar shook his head with a soft chuckle, what had she expected they do if not that? “Do you mind uncrossing your legs so I can clean higher?..”

“Oh, of course.” Mayla replied casually. Well, if ever she was going to take a risk in life..

Mayla uncrossed her legs, her cock, which she had pressed between her thighs and held in place by sheer force of will more than anything sprung free. Painfully erect and desperate for attention it stood full and proud, far larger and thicker than she assumed his could muster.

From the shocked expression on his face, she could tell her suspicions were correct. She tilted her head, looking down at him. “Everything alright?..” she asked gently, trying to keep her nerves from her voice.

“I.. You.. We?..” None of the books he had read spoke of this!! Why had such an important fact been kept secret? Was this usual? Had the other elves encountered the same and simply not spoken of it, or lied for the benefit of their reputation?

“What’s wrong Scar? You look lost.” she prompted again, watching as his eyes drank in the sight of her length, twitching slightly as she, in turn, was enamoured by the sight of him before her.

“N-no I just.. Ah.. Nevermind..” he blushed as he took up his cloth again and returned to washing her, working up her legs towards.. It.

This wasn’t going at all like he had planned. Like that his night of making passionate love to this gorgeous human had been flipped around, would he really be on the receiving end of that? What were his other options?

He could of course just leave, just collect his clothes and vanish into the night. But where would he go? He had spent a long time singling this place out as being perfect for his needs and anywhere else could be just as fraught with the dangers Mayla now presented to him. By the way she acted, it seemed what she was doing was the norm. If that was true, he could only really stay here or go far, far from here. The idea of again hitting the road did not fill him with hope.

He cleaned up her thighs and across her stomach as he thought, avoiding that thing for now, though she didn’t seem to comment, relaxing and enjoying as his hands explored over her body, he enjoyed the sensation of her form under his fingers, just as much it seemed as she enjoyed his fingers pressing into her body, judging by her persistent hard-on for him.

She hadn’t relaxed this much after a days work in longer than she cared to admit. Company wasn’t that much of a rarity for her, but nothing and no one compared to the luxury she was bathing in right now, and that was before the fun even started for proper.

She found herself moaning some as he moved around her, working at her back and sides, his fingers working magic on her tired muscle, the combination of his firm but feminine hands and the hot water relaxing and unwinding her, it seemed more a massage than anything.

She was like putty in his hands, his skilled fingers able to elicit a moan or squirm of pleasure from her even as he just cleaned her. He dared imagine what he could do if he..

“Mm.. Now do down there..” she said, voice low, urging, her eyes opening a crack to look over her shoulder at him. He could see the hunger in her eyes.

He didn’t reply, hesitant, but eager to make her happy. He sank back between her knees and dipped the cloth in the now warm water, soaking it and wringing it out once, twice, he was stalling.

“Please?..” she asked, gently, urging herself forward an inch on the stool, her twitching cock pushed ever so slightly closer to him.

“I’ve. I’ve never..” he started, wanting to confess that the only cock he’d ever seen let alone touched was his own.

She looked at him with a soft look full of warmth, “Oh Scar.. I didn’t know you’d never been with a woman before.. Please.. Let me teach you?.. You’re so perfect.. You could score a different girl each night working here, you know.. You’d always have company, in your bed, with pillows..”

That prospect in full allured him. Even with her addition, he couldn’t deny his attraction to the exotic human. He thought back to the myriad of races he had passed on his way through the city. To bed them all. At the very least he would be able to return to his people with several valuable journals on anatomy.

He nodded ever so slightly, reaching out with his hands to caress the hot cloth up the length of her member, looking up at her from between her thighs as he started to wash her length. The blonde woman was biting her lip in the light of her candles around the room, her hips moving ever so slightly forward, eager to feel more.

He obliged her, running the hot cloth up and down the length, letting the heat and wetness drive her on, even if it was clear she wanted more from him, so much more. With a little reluctance he set the cloth down, it was nothing more than a pretence at this point anyway. They both knew what she wanted, the look she was giving him was pretty universal.

He slowly wrapped his hands around the hot thick rod of her shaft, feeling it throb and pulse between his fingers. He felt her fingers caress through the fineness of his hair, he looked up from her cock to make eye contact with her, looking deep into her desperate eyes.

He squeezed the cock in his two demure hands, wrapped tight around her he started to slowly stroke, the thick tip on display, pointed towards his face, her hand urging him down.

Scar couldn’t believe this, his plans, his night, it had all change so quickly, he..

“Mfm!” he complained as Mayla curled her fingers in his red hair, impatiently tugging his head downwards, pushing the tip of her cock in past his lips and into the confines of his mouth.

“Oh.. Oh sweet gods.. The stories do you no justice.. You feel.. Ah..” she held him there, letting him grow accustomed to the thick, hot tip pressing down against his spongy tongue, letting him learn what it felt like to have a dick in his mouth. Something she would ensure he became well versed in.

“Don’t stop stroking… Ah.. Ah yeah.. Just like that.. Jack me off into your mouth..” she moaned softly, staring down at him, his deep green eyes, she thought, perfect for looking up at her submissively with her cock stuck in his mouth.

Something instinctive about him kicked in. Little was known about elves and their ways, but their sexual prowess was extremely well documented and evidenced by their offspring, something in Scar told him to pleasure her, even though she wasn’t entirely what he had expected, he had seduced her successfully, or so he thought, and now had to fulfill her understanding of elves. Even in this bizarre, turned around situation, he couldn’t not be an Elf-slut.

He started to suck, his tongue beginning to move, twirling and dancing around the tip as his cheeks visibly caved in, hugging the cock head as he sucked on it, pressing his shoulders forward and sinking his mouth down around her shaft, drawing her in deeper, his hands adjusting, squeezing, stroking.

Mayla shuddered, her hand resting on his head, her other limp by her side as her mind went white with pleasure, it was unreal, every movement of his lips, every twitch of his tongue, each draw on her cock seemed to be intricately woven threads to a single action, it was what every blowjob should be, each aspect complementing the other in a rising crescendo of pleasure.

She couldn’t understand, as she watched his plush lips roll up and down her cock how she hadn’t already cum, the pleasure was too intense, too masterfully orchestrated to excuse why she wouldn’t peak.

As Scar let out soft feminine noises around her length he focused on his task, kneeling nude between his first boss, his first lover, his first of many things. He could bring her climax at any instant he desired, he knew. But he didn’t hesitate out of fear of what such an event would bring, no, he was totally engrossed in the act of pleasuring her. It was an art, an art his people were famed for. A perfect blowjob wasn’t a race to the finish, it was an experience, from start to finish, tantalising, encouraging, magical.

He twisted his hands as they glided over the smooth firmness of her cock, from root to tip following the movement of his lips. He didn’t move to take her into his throat, he didn’t need to and didn’t know if he could. He didn’t want to spoil his tempo by gagging or choking on her.

He let her cock pop free of his mouth, tongue running down the length, wetting every inch of it as his hands never paused, always in action, if they weren’t stroking her shaft they were caressing her thighs, cupping her balls, squeezing, massaging, just simply loving every inch of her fleshy form that he could reach.

Mayla had to make a concerted effort as it was not to relax too much, sitting as she was on the stool if her body went as limp as he was making her feel she doubted she would remain upright, though a part of her wondered what he would be like once she got him into her bed and got herself inside of him. She wanted that, wanted that bad, but just couldn’t bring herself to stop him from giving her the best head of her life.

“A-ah.. Yeah, just like that Scarlett.. Suck my cock..” she urged, chewing on her full lip as she watched him, watched the confusion, and then the dawning realisation in his eyes over her words. She had confused him for a girl when he had first entered her tavern. Now here he was, servicing her like a girl, being treated like a girl. A creeping doubt set in that he wouldn’t be as much of the barman he had thought.

He slowly lowered his pace and lessened his movements, eliciting a whimper of need from his partner, he was going to work her towards completion, but for that long last push he wanted her as far away from climax as he could, to make the build up and eventual release for her all the more spectacular.

She watched him, unsure as to what he was doing with his lessened pace, but unwilling to disrupt him, the long deep strokes of his mouth and tongue along his cock might not have been as frantically pleasurable as before but it was still leagues above what she had experienced before.

He shuffled on his knees, back arched somewhat as if presenting himself, though from her angle Mayla could see little apart from his splay of fiery hair and those greedy green eyes that seemed to hold her gaze captive. Scar, or Scarlett now, repositioned himself for the final stretch.

His hand wrapped around the root of her cock, encasing the rigid base in the soft warmth of his hand, his other dipping lower, massaging and caressing her heavy smooth sack, coaxing her load from it as his full plush lips, slightly swollen from their work wrapped tightly behind the head of her cock, the thick mushroom tip filling and dominating his mouth.

He looked up to her as he sucked, hard and soft, tongue swirling around it in tight circles as he drew his lips up the thick tip and back down, focusing all of his efforts increasingly on that single point.

The room filled with the lewd noises of her needy moaning and the wet, squishing noises of his sucking, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t spent his whole life doing this, he was just so absolutely perfect at it, so soft and eager, skilled and always, always maintaining his eye contact, like he had spent a lifetime in training to bring him to his solitary task.

“A-ah.. Scarlett.. Scarlett, I’m getting close..” she warned, though he didn’t change any of what he was doing, he knew she was getting close, he could feel it in the way her cock twitched and throbbed in his mouth and hands, in the way his sensitive ears picked up the change in her breathing and even in the subtle change in the beating of her heart.

He lavished the head of her womanhood in the luxury of his mouth and tongue, lips rolling over the sensitive tip as she started to gasp, hands tightening unpleasantly in his hair, holding him in place, forcing him to take what she was about to give, although he had no intention of pulling away regardless.

“Scarlett… Scarlett.. I.. I.. Ah!” she erupted between his lips, his highly attuned taste buds assaulted by the sudden influx of hot, thick cum. The salty, tangy fluid poured into him, forcing him to gulp and swallow mouthfuls of the stuff down into the core of his being.

He stared up at her, wide eyes doe-like as she watched him drain her, tongue dancing over the tip, drawing out every iota of pleasure and drop of cum that he could from her tired body.

Mayla watched him swallow her cum, could just make out his slender neck shift and expand each time he swallowed, tracking her cum as it flowed into him, the pleasure arcing through her body like little jolts of electricity.

Scarlett felt her cock slow, her pulse lessening, knowing that she was spent as he nursed, suckling gently on the tip before letting it fall free from his mouth with a pop. Her cock was flagging, only half hard in his hand, as he hefted it, full, swollen lips kissing the now overly sensitive tip, gently caressing it, licking the length, caressing her, giving her the aftercare she deserved from him..

“Oh.. Oh gods.. Scarlett.. You.. Gods.. The stories were true.. All true..” she panted, hands moving from his hair to grip the sides of her stool, offering support as he delicately loved on her softening cock, his head dipping down, kissing at her smooth sack, as if thanking them for their gift. “You’re never going to have an empty bed again..” she promised, causing him to blush and smile a little.

Scar had entered the room, excited at the prospect of fucking this curvy mature tavern owner, his mind had been filled with the thoughts of what he would do to her, he knew now that Scarlett would be leaving this room, full of thoughts of what she, and others like her, would do to him. And that made him equally excited. He guessed that the legends about elves were truer than even he had expected, that his people were so sexually skilled that they would adapt to any scenario to give their partner pleasure. Or perhaps it was just his own personal wanderlust and drive for new experiences extending into an even newer aspect of his life. Whichever it was, he had enjoyed that.

“Just glad I could help you unwind after a long day..” he said in a soft, almost sultry tone, even he could hear the slightly feminine tones to his voice now, or maybe he was just adapting further to the feminine position she had put him in.

She smirked some and ruffled his hair, her cock now soft and spent between her thighs. “Come.. Get into bed Scarlett.. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, bar wench.” she smirked broader and winked at him, standing up herself, albeit on shaky legs.

Scarlett nodded and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his hands moving up to run through the long red strands of his hair, settling them after her ruffling. “Yes, Mistress.” he said simply, obediently.

A warm spark of satisfaction settled in Mayla’s chest as she watched him stand, his knees a little red, something he would have to get used to if she had any say in things. She watched him, nude and glorious as he sauntered towards her bed.

His ass was a legend in itself, after his slender waist his body blossomed out to what could only be described in her mind as child-bearing hips, tapering into thick full thighs and a doughy, enticingly pillow-like heart shaped ass.

Looking at it, her cock twitched and stirred a little, begging to be planted inside him, but after his skilful cocksucking even she was too spent for that. At least for now. The morning would come soon and with it, energy..

She followed him to the bed, a bit of a youthful swagger in her step, a bounce she hadn’t felt in many a year. She blew out her candles and slid into the bed behind him, spooning him. Her hands wrapped around his slender, slight body, holding onto him possessively, her cock pressed to his fleshy cheeks. She. Mayla Rein’s, had an Elf in her bed, pressed to her cock. Her parents would be proud, her sisters would be jealous and if everything went according to plan? Her patrons would pay handsomely for a night with the Thorned Rose’s newest wench.

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