sindel mortal kombat

“Awww…fuuuccckkkk! Geeeezzzzuuuus fuck!” Carol’s body convulsed in pleasure as her hips ground onto my tongue and finger. “Yeah! Yeah! God! Oh God! Yeah! Fuck!” She dropped down onto her elbows as the waves of pleasure subsided. Goosebumps rose on her muscular ass. “That was fantastic. Do it some more. Please.” I put my fingers on either side of her asshole and pulled, trying to open her hole a bit for my tongue. I wiggled my tongue a bit into the tiny opening. Her sphincter and ass cheeks tightened reflexively at the attempted violation. Carol giggled with delight. “That feels so good. Weird. But so good.”

“All I ever wanted was to change the world, to make it a better place where the weak wouldn’t be stepped on and enslaved, where freedom was a right instead of a privilege. I pushed myself, I struggled, I suffered, all for that goal, and survival is the best I could accomplish? If I have to focus only on survival, to be grateful just for staying alive, then how am I supposed to change anything? How am I any different from those who do nothing to fix this broken, corrupt reality?”

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.