Still hard. Still thick. Nestled between their bodies, pressing into her soft belly like a hot iron bar, the shaft trapped between them, throbbing with each heartbeat.
She could feel it pulse. Feel the heat of it even through his robes and her dress. Feel how it curved slightly upward, the head pressing just below her breasts.
'Oh gods oh gods oh gods—' her mind chanted, face burning crimson. 'He's—it's—I can FEEL it—'
Her late husband had been... adequate. Small, honestly. Maybe four inches when aroused. It had been enough to conceive Lin Feng, but never particularly impressive.
And since becoming a widow, the only thing that had touched her there was the wooden dildo she'd carved herself in a moment of desperate loneliness—maybe six inches, crude, something she used in shameful privacy when the ache became too much.
But this—
