The air in the hut was thick, suffocating, charged with the scent of sweat and damp earth. My breath hitched as I watched Kerry and Mitt adjust the flimsy leaves covering their bodies, the fabric clinging to the curves of their hips, the shadows between their thighs.
Kerry's fingers lingered at the edge of her covering, her movements slow, deliberate—as if she were teasing me even now. Her eyes flicked back to me, dark and knowing, her lips curling into that infuriating smile that never quite reached her gaze.
"Don't worry, Dexter," she murmured, her voice a slow pour of dark honey, rich and intoxicating. "Aunt Kerry will find you a beautiful girl. One who will follow you. One who will take care of that... problem of yours."
Her words struck me like a blade twisting deep in my gut. My cock, already painfully hard, throbbed in response, the weight of it heavy against my thigh.
