Fun time in the spring time

like kings, indeed. a drunken jaeger would groggily crawl underneath his slowly rotting cervid, shimmying her over his shoulders and purring contentedly. she felt like heaven, draped over his emaciated figure and fitting snugly against his ribs. but even a boiling tar pit would feel nice to a man high off of a woman's forbidden fruit, let alone two women. he would rise, listening halfheartedly to the others' words as he brought himself to start off in a leisure pace toward the cover of the trees. if anyone would have spoken to him, he would not have heard it.



-exit-