nailsmith and sheo

After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.

With his superior speed, Roc eventually got the drop on Ingram, attacking from above. His hit landed, but Ingram twisted in the air and kicked Roc in the gut. Roc lost his balance in the air and hit the ground, rolling over a hundred feet across the rough street. Thinking he had seized victory, Ingram turned and flew back to the arena, but Roc, although spitting up blood and covered in bruises, wasn’t ready to quit yet.

“Right here.” Carol knelt on the sofa, elbows on the back of the cushion. She bent lower, pushing her ass towards me. “Keep the oil in reach in case we need more.” If she was worried about oil stains on her leather couch, she didn’t show it. She laid her head on the back of the sofa and spread her ass with both hands. Her asshole, now pink from the stretching, was beautiful. “Fuck me.” I stepped up behind her, cock in hand and laid the head against her anus. I started to push. Her asshole was tight, but began to spread against the pressure.