She gestured wildly at the scene, and her eyes finally focused on Cang specifically.
On his face. His body. His scales.
And then—
Lower.
Because his robes had shifted during the commotion, and now—
His cock was visible.
Not fully exposed. But the outline was obvious through the thin fabric, standing at full attention now, the shaft thick and long, creating a massive tent that pointed upward obscenely.
Both women—mother and daughter—saw it simultaneously.
And froze.
'That's—that's his—oh gods—'
She'd felt it against her belly. But seeing it—seeing the clear outline, the size, the way it throbbed visibly through fabric—
Her late husband's cock had been maybe four inches. Small. Adequate for procreation but never impressive.
The wooden dildo she'd carved herself in desperate loneliness was six inches. Thick enough to fill her, though she'd never used it without guilt and shame.
But this—
