ayah and dasa (prince vaxis (copyright)) created by totesfleisch8
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Description

©Totesfleisch8, Dasa & Prince_Vaxis 2018. All rights reserved.

Story

The heat on the sand was scorching. One could see mirages frolicking across the horizon, giving fake promises of nearby shores of drinkable water, a cruel display that was the every day life of the two muscular bodies sparring in the nearby arena. Dasa and Ayah had been sent on a joint mission to the outskirts of Draq'Nara to cull a band of marauders terrorizing the trade depot near the Pit. Out this far from the main city, no oasis had been dug and no plants grew. It was as desolate as desolate can be, which suited both Dasa and his daughter just fine; Dasa thriving in volcanic temperatures, and Ayah both inheriting that resistance, as well as having grown up in this climate.
At this time, the duo had opted for heat of the moment sparring, and Therions being Therions, the battle quickly began to feel...tense...

"Move like you mean it! Stop worrying about harming me! I've told you, when I'm your opponent, I am not your father, I'm an enemy out to take your life! Defend yourself!"

Ayah's swings begin to embolden, hurling a warcry and beating against the shield Dasa held. Her job was not to get around the shield, but to prove that she could tear straight through it. The ceaseless clanging of Ayah's swords against the metal shield was like a bell from hell echoing its rings into the void, and despite sweat falling in cascades of drops from her brow with sudden movements, she didn't let up, and finally, with one final two-handed swing, the shield shatters, leaving Dasa with nothing but the handle in his hand.

"Good...Now...Prove you can withstand the same onslaught."

"Wait, wha-"

Ayah never got to finish her sentence before her reflexes hijacked control of her body in defense of her life. A swing had come from Dasa's massive halberd, pulled from the ground behind him and without warning, swung at her. The swing clanged against her twin swords, a black and red glow of magic shining from the blades upon impact, sending Ayah sliding backwards on her hooves along the dusty sandstone. Her father was upon her in seconds, and now it was his turn to exclaim warcries as his halberd swung again and again at her, her blades furiously parrying deflecting and redirecting his blows. Naught but the ancient magic in the twin swords of Destiny kept the blades from shattering like glass.
Eventually, Ayah had begun fighting back, and in a maneuver of Dasa trying to pin her down to force her to surrender, Ayah instead held on and pulled him down with her, using her Therion strength to haul a man several times her size. He ended up on top of her. Dasa's tense expression met Ayah's tired, panting, dazed one, and suddenly, without warning, the building tension between them finally snapped their inhibitions in half. It began with Dasa kissing Ayah, and Ayah not only welcoming it, but took it further by wrapping her muscular legs around her father's waist.

***

The sun was getting lower on the horizing of golden sands, and within the dusty arena, a wholly different symphony than what it normally experiences could be heard reverberating from it. Dasa had Ayah pinned against the ground, her legs in the air, quivering and twitching with each thrust of his titanic manhood into her forbidden sex. Her cries and screams of pure delight mixed with his grunts and growls of bestial, carnal pleasures. He had orgasmed, again, and again, and again into her, until both their bodies were matted with sweat, and Ayah bubbling her father's seed from her womanhood like a fountain. They both knew it was wrong. They could both feel it despite the intensity of it. The twinge of taboo hanging in the deep vestiges of their minds, but it never amounted to more than that. Still they continued until night was rapidly swallowing the desert, leaving both spent, bathed in a sinful cocktail of Ayahs fluids, Dasa's seed, and their joint sweat. In that afterglow, Ayah was the first to speak.

"Father..."
"Hmmf?"
"Did I win the spar?"

The final sound heard in that sparring arena that day, was laughter.

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