Artemas didn’t know what to make of the man’s expression and couldn’t tell if he were joking or not. She blinked a few times in confusion before...answering. ‘Uh, let me hear one of your tunes so I can decide.’ The minstrel nodded gravely and sat down on one of the benches. He extracted a finely carved Irish lap harp from the thick canvas bag and set it in place, plinking at a few strings to test if they were still in tune. Meanwhile the woman with him had pulled a tambourine out of her pack and. His tongue flashed out and into her mouth to dance around her tongue, teasing, tormenting, luring her out.As her tongue lightly touched his teeth, he sucked down hard. He trapped the pink, agile little tip between his lips making sure his teeth held her firmly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep her from escaping. Then he teased her tongue tip with his. Light, flickering motions soon reduced her to quivering mass begging to be fucked.Releasing her tongue allowed her to gasp out, "God, you. More

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