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ows. "I don't know where to go from
here," he said.
"I remember touching," I replied. I reached out and stroked his broad
chest, feeling the scales sliding under my fingertips, feeling the caress
of his skin. Dragons have hearts, despite the legends, and I could hear
his beating. His breath, hot and musky, poured over me as he watched my
hands relearn the feel of his body.
People don't believe me when I say that Dragons, if they have any
relation to other animals, are more like the centaurids than humanoids.
But it must be so because Dragons have six limbs. They have standing legs,
flying wings, and holding arms, although in full Dracoform these arms end
in three-fingered hands that require close care to keep the nails short
enough for them to handle anything.
My dreams and fantasies roiled in my head and I wondered how many of
them I could fulfill in one night. "If I touch you hear with my finger," I
said, caressing the underside of his chin and neck, "and then do it again
with my lips, do you feel an
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