satin chenille trolls

“Oh, take it you little whore!” she squealed, her hips jerking powerfully against my ass, the hot, molten flood of her seed making me gasp as I felt it shooting deeply up my ass! “Take it! Take my fucking cum!” Wave after wave she gave it to me, her huge, amazing cock pulsing and throbbing in time with the unbelievable pounding of her hips. Then suddenly she stopped, almost as if somebody had thrown her switch, buried to the hilt but completely immobile. She stayed there for a long, slow moment, eyes closed in rapture, barely even twitching but utterly lost to the ecstasy of her release. She pulled out slowly, leaving me strangely empty and wanting, supporting herself with her hand on my stomach as she tottered unsteadily around to my side in her heels. She bent low over top of me, her huge, amazing tits pressing warm and heavy against my chest.

The two former brothers then charged towards each other and began their fight. Falco hurled punches with the skill of a trained boxer, every attack carrying the energy of a sledgehammer at full swing and relying on blocking with water for defense. Viktor replied with animal-like slashes, each finger capable of burning right through armor like it was cotton, and banking on his agility to avoid harm.

I don’t remember a lot about the next couple of days. I couldn’t shake the image of Mrs. B. on her knees gazing up at me while my cock pulsed a geyser of cum into her mouth. Not that I wanted to shake the image. I do remember beating my cock like it owed me money for days after the closet incidence.