spitter left for dead

“Please, Rachel, please!” I swallowed nervously, but there was no point resisting, not anymore. “Please, give me your cum! I want it so bad! Please, fill my sissy faggot ass with your hot, thick cum! I want it so bad, Rachel, please!”

Noah rocketed towards her, and for one brief fraction of a second, he saw the shock in Valia’s eyes from his boosted speed. He, too, was surprised, feeling like he was wearing his anti-paladin cloak. It was natural to feel lighter and faster after removing weights, but removing the headband was a new definition of liberating. Valia intercepted his attack, but only just, and Noah rained slashes and stabs upon her, putting her solely on defense. She was forced back, unable to maintain her position with such a ferocious chain of attacks hammering her defenses. Finally, Noah slipped past her guard and held the tip of his sword up to her throat.

He’d already showered so his short messy hair had been combed back and was still damp. He was wearing his slacks and belt, but no button up shirt on yet. He liked to wait until his hair was a bit drier before he put it on. As he pulled cups and the coffee tin from the cupboards above, she couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles shifted on his back, the sparse long hairs that sprouted from his back and shoulders. He only got to the gyms on the weekends, but he walked around job sights a lot for his work, so he had a nice balance between muscle and leanness. Before last night she wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but now she sat there with her mouth open, staring like a dead fish.