ratatouille horst

Getting to her feet, covered in dirt and sweat, Thera cracked her whips and wrapped them around Cain’s neck and wrist, then pulled. The surface of the water, solid and smooth like polished stone, became rough and sharp like a cheese grater, and as she pulled, it ripped across Cain’s skin. All of her previous opponents had suffered this fate. At best, they received epidermal abrasions similar to a bicycle accident, and at worst, their flesh was peeled off like an orange. However, Cain laughed and snapped the liquid coils. His flesh had been scoured, but it just barely. It wasn’t just the muscles and horn of a rhino; he also had their tough skin.

As carefully as she could, she untangled herself from his legs and slipped out of his bed and made for the door. As she walked back to her room her mind was doing somersaults.What was she thinking?Why did it smell so good?What if he woke up?How would I even explain myself?Did I taste it?I need to smell it again.Why can’t I get the taste out of my mind?

“Yeah maybe.” My spent cock slid out of Carol’s ass with a wet pop, followed by a creamy gush of my cum. I flopped onto the sofa. Carol plopped down beside me, an instant wet spot started oozing onto the leather cushion. “Should I get a towel or something? That’s quite the mess.”“I’ll lick it up before I go to bed. Or not. Don’t care. I’ll flip the cushion before my husband gets home.”“You never did that before?” I asked.