plant wubbox

He attacked Ingram, and the two went at it again, exchanging kicks and punches while the audience cheered them on. The winged fighters were throwing everything they had at each other, with adrenaline flooding their veins and the blood steaming as it flowed from their wounds. Every lesson they had ever learned, every technique they had acquired, every spark of experience they had, they directed into their moves, punching and kicking as hard as they could, with mana roaring around their limbs.

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

I might have been able to fight my way to a second one, if I'd really worked at it, but I didn't see much point. I just relaxed, enjoying the sensation of that big, thick knot tugging against my entrance with every rapid thrust, the one part of getting doggie-fucked that Daddy's cock couldn't replicate and do better.