His fingers continued kneading her leaking breasts like she was a cow being milked.
The jar between her thighs was filling with her essence—clear fluid tinged faintly pink, warm and slick.
"Unlike my other wives," Viktor continued, his filthy words pouring into her ear, "even your ass leaks lubricant. Like you were designed to milk my cock dry from every hole."
Elara whimpered, overwhelmed.
"No matter how many times I fuck you," he went on, grinding his hard cock against her ass, "your pussy grips me so tight. Like you're trying to trap me inside. To keep me buried in your body forever."
The carriage hit a particularly rough patch of road.
Everyone jolted.
The movement drove Viktor's tail deeper, pushed the jar harder against her pussy, made his hands squeeze her breasts roughly.
Elara's vision whited out. Another orgasm crashed through her, smaller but no less intense.
More fluid gushed into the jar.
