Four women. One man. The bed had become a living, moaning tangle of limbs and mouths and wet sounds.
Aspira and Soha stayed lower, both of them still devoted to his balls, licking, sucking, occasionally kissing each other around the heavy sac when their mouths met.
Every time the succubus slammed down, the force jostled them, making their tongues press harder.
Aspira's spider legs shifted restlessly on the mattress, the silver fur of her lower body already damp with her own arousal. Soha's pregnant belly pressed warm against his side every time she leaned in.
Cruxius's hand found Aspira's small breast again, the one he had bounced earlier in the street. He rolled the stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger, then pinched harder. She whimpered against his balls, the sound vibrating through him.
