fisto fallout

“You can say that again!” I agreed, nuzzling into the side of her breast. “But Mom... don't tell Grandpa about any of this, okay? At least not yet.”

Sarah swallowed; her mouth suddenly dry with nervousness. She was sweating from the strain of holding herself in place, but that sudden slickness gave her an idea. Easing her pressure on the bed her body weight now mostly fell on her father, her breasts crushed against his chest. Pushing forward with her hands her body slipped an inch down her father, and that inch translated to an inch down below. It was more sudden than she intended, her father’s tip pushed fast and hard past her lips and into her dripping pussy. She moaned in ecstasy, unable to hold it in. She could feel him inside her now, stretching her opening and with it, feel the beat of his heart in her most sensitive place. She was on fire.

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.