Chapter 5: The steam parts to reveal Jasmine's round ebony cheeks spread obscenely wide, Mystique's golden-marked backside twitching with anticipation, and Astrild's pale perfect asshole already glistening with her unnatural silver slickness - all three chanting 'Worship us properly, husband' in unison as Bruce's cock throbs with divine need.
Steam coiled like living serpents, thick and perfumed with the impossible scent of stardust and jasmine blossoms. It hung heavy over the shimmering celestial baths, obscuring the distant waterfalls of liquid light that cascaded down obsidian walls. Bruce pushed through the humid veil, the warm, mineral-rich water sloshing around his thighs as he moved deeper into the cavernous chamber. The soft glow of nascent stars embedded in the vaulted ceiling cast shifting patterns on the swirling mist. Then he saw them.
Three figures. Three impossible curves rising above the low marble benches at the pool’s edge. Steam wreathed them, clinging to glistening skin. Identical poses: knees on the bench, chests lowered, foreheads resting on folded arms. Three perfect asses arched high in the air, presented with breathtaking defiance. Jasmine on the left, her deep ebony skin gleaming with moisture, the powerful, rounded swell of her hips and the magnificent curve of her ass – a rival to Lena’s legendary form – demanding immediate worship. Mystique in the center, taller, her dark skin like polished mahogany, muscles taut beneath the sheen, her ass a powerful, sculpted masterpiece honed over centuries in the time chamber – wider than Jasmine’s but somehow sharper, more defined. Astrild on the right, her pale skin luminous against the dark marble, her ass high and round, smaller than the others but perfectly formed, taut globes offering a stark, enticing contrast.
The air crackled. Not just with steam, but with raw, competitive energy.
“Took you long enough, husband,” Jasmine’s voice, low and smoky, cut through the humid silence. She didn’t turn. Her green eyes, flecked with temporal gold, seemed to shimmer even in profile. “We were debating whose hole would claim you first. Mine’s been aching for that fat cock since yesterday.”
Mystique chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing slightly in the chamber. Her eyes, swirling sapphire, violet, and flecks of gold, glanced back over her shoulder. “Aching? Please, Jazz. Mine’s been clenching empty air since we left the feasting hall. Feels fucking hollow. Ready to be stretched wide open by that monster.” She deliberately flexed her powerful glutes, the muscles rippling under damp skin. “This ass can milk godhood dry. Bet it’ll choke you before you finish.”
Astrild remained silent for a moment, her violet eyes fixed on Bruce, burning with an intensity that bordered on desperation. Her breath hitched slightly. “…My Lord,” she whispered, the words trembling. “My… my entrance is slick. Slicker than theirs.” Her pale skin flushed deeply. “Cold and silvery. Like starlight. It… it needs your fire.” She pushed her hips back higher, her smaller ass trembling with the effort. “This hole… was made for you. Only you. It needs to be ruined.”
Bruce’s breath caught in his throat. His swirling hazel eyes blazed molten gold. His cock, thick and heavy even at rest, surged to impossible hardness against his stomach, throbbing with each heartbeat. Twelve impossible inches, eight inches of brutal girth, demanding immediate relief. The sight, the filthy promises, the sheer arrogance of their presentation – it was a volcano of need erupting within him.
He moved through the water like a predator, waves sloshing against the marble. He didn’t hesitate. Jasmine was first. His large, calloused hands slapped down possessively onto the high, magnificent swell of her ebony cheeks. She gasped, a sound of pure satisfaction. “Finally,” she hissed, pushing back hard against his grip. “Stretch me, Bruce. Split this black ass wide open.”
He leaned in, his breath hot on her lower back. His fingers traced the deep cleft, finding her tight, dark pucker already glistening with her natural slickness and the steam. He pressed the broad, leaking head of his cock firmly against it. “Take it,” he commanded, his voice gravel.
“Give it!” Jasmine snarled, pushing back fiercely.
He thrust. Not slow. Brutal. His immense girth breached her resisting sphincter in one relentless drive. Schllorrrrp! Jasmine screamed, a raw sound of shock and instant, overwhelming pleasure-pain. Her body bowed, muscles locking rigid as he forced his impossible thickness deep into her bowels. He bottomed out with a final slam, his groin crushing against the glorious swell of her ass, his balls resting against her soaked pussy lips. “FUCK! BRUCE! OH GODS! SO FUCKING BIG!” she wailed, her knuckles white on the marble. “It’s splitting me! Stretching me! FILLING ME!”
He pulled back slowly, the drag agonizing against her clenched inner walls, then slammed back in. THWACK! Water sloshed violently. He gave her three deep, piston-like strokes, each impact rocking her powerful frame. Jasmine’s cries escalated, sharp gasps morphing into guttural groans. “YES! YES! DESTROY THIS ASS! MAKE IT YOURS!” Her temporal power flickered for a heartbeat; Bruce felt a strange echo, a phantom pressure alongside the physical sensation, as if she existed slightly ahead and behind the moment of penetration.
Beside them, Mystique watched, her sapphire-violet eyes blazing. “Don’t hog him, Jazz,” she purred, flexing her own incredible ass. “My turn. This god-tier ass needs that god-tier cock. Now.” She reached back, fingers spreading her cheeks, revealing her tight, dark hole. “Fuck it raw, Bruce. Show me how deep a God-King can go.”
Bruce growled, pulling out of Jasmine with a wet schlop, leaving her panting and gaping. He pivoted. His slick cock found Mystique’s presented entrance instantly. He pressed hard. Mystique braced, pushing back with divine strength. “RAM IT!” she commanded.
He drove forward. Harder. Faster than he had with Jasmine. SCHLLLORP! Mystique gasped, her head snapping back, eyes wide for an instant before narrowing in fierce ecstasy. Her asshole yielded differently – a fierce resistance honed by centuries of mastering reality itself, then a sudden, gripping surrender. He buried himself to the root in one devastating thrust, his balls slapping against her firm cheeks. “FUCK YEAH!” she roared, her voice shaking the steam. “THAT’S IT! BREACH ME! FILL THIS DIVINE HOLE!” Her power flared subtly – the air crackled with static, the water around their legs hissed faintly. Her inner muscles clamped down on him like a vise, a supernova of sensation. “Feel that? That’s centuries of hunger milking your fucking cock!”
He fucked her with short, brutal strokes, five, six, seven times. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Mystique’s cries were triumphant roars, her dark skin gleaming, muscles rippling as she took his savage pounding. “HARDER! SPREAD THIS ASS! MAKE IT REMEMBER!”
A whimper cut through the wet sounds and roars. Astrild, trembling, her violet eyes desperate. “Bruce… My Lord… please… I’m so empty… So cold…” Tears, cool and silvery like her slickness, tracked down her flushed cheeks. “My hole… it begs… It’s slicked for you… waiting… freezing…” She pushed her pale, round ass higher, the tight pink pucker clenching visibly. “Take it… claim it… burn it…”
Bruce tore his cock from Mystique’s clenching heat, drawing a curse from her lips. He surged towards Astrild. Her violet eyes met his, filled with raw, aching need. “Please,” she breathed.
No command needed. He lined up and slammed home. SHLUCK! Astrild’s scream was a high, keening sound of purest ecstatic agony. Unlike the others, her tight ring offered less initial resistance, yielding almost instantly to his impossible girth, but the stretch was no less brutal. Cold, silvery slickness gushed around the invading shaft as he buried himself completely. “OH DIVINE! OH FUCK! BRUCE!” she sobbed, collapsing forward onto the marble. “IT BURNS! IT FILLS! IT’S… PERFECT!” Her inner muscles fluttered wildly, a rapid, icy pulsation utterly alien and intoxicating. “Breed it! Fill my icy cunt with your fire! Claim it!”
He fucked her ass with deep, grinding thrusts, the sensation uniquely intense – the shocking cold of her silvery slickness mixed with the burning friction of his cock. SHLUCK. SHLUCK. Astrild’s cries were continuous, melodic sobs of overwhelming sensation. “YES! MORE! MELT ME! RUIN THIS HOLE!”
Bruce became a relentless engine of possession and pleasure. Back to Jasmine: deep, powerful strokes met by her fierce pushes and temporal ripples. “FUCK! STUFF THIS BLACK HEAVEN!” Back to Mystique: faster, harder impacts that made her roar and the air crackle. “DEEPER! MILK ME, GOD-KING!” Back to Astrild: deep, grinding reclamations drawing icy silver rivers and melodic cries. “BURN ME! OWN YOUR ICY SLUT!”
The rhythm was brutal, primal. THWACK! (Jasmine groaning). CRACKLE! SCHLORP! (Mystique roaring). SHLUCK! SHLUCK! (Astrild keening). Steam billowed with each movement. The scent of sex and stardust, jasmine and ozone, filled the humid air.
Jasmine came first. Bruce pistoned into her after a deep grind in Astrild’s cold heat, his fingers finding her clit. “FUCKING CUMMING!” she screamed, her body locking. Her asshole clamped down in violent spasms, powerful rhythmic clenches that threatened to break him. Her pussy gushed, hot liquid flooding the water beneath her. “OH GODS! MILKING YOUR FAT COCK! TAKE IT!”
The feel of her divine muscles milking him, combined with her temporal echo – a phantom vibration surrounding his cock – pushed Bruce over the edge. He roared, a sound that shook the celestial waterfalls, and slammed back into Mystique, needing the ultimate challenge.
He buried himself to the root in her god-tier ass. Mystique threw her head back and shrieked, not just in pleasure, but in pure, unleashed power. Her eyes blazed like supernovas – sapphire, violet, gold, pure white light. The water around them instantly vaporized in a blast of superheated steam. Small arcs of lightning snapped from her skin to the marble. Her asshole clamped down on his cock with the crushing force of a collapsing star, a superhuman sphincter spasm that sucked the cum from his balls with brutal, irresistible force.
“FUCK! DRINK IT! DRINK MY GODHOOD, MYSTIQUE!” Bruce bellowed as he erupted, thick, hot ropes pumping deep into her convulsing channel. It was like being milked by a black hole. He could feel her power pulling his essence, drawing it out in savage bursts.
Mystique convulsed, screaming wordlessly, light pouring from her eyes and mouth. She clamped down harder, milking every spurt, her body radiating intense heat and crackling energy. “YES! GIVE IT! FILL MY DIVINE CUNT! MORE!”
Bruce emptied himself utterly, collapsing forward over her back, gasping, his vision swimming. Mystique shuddered, the light slowly fading from her eyes, the crackling energy subsiding. She pushed her ass back, grinding against his softening cock still embedded deep. “Fuck… that’s… that’s how you worship power, big guy,” she panted, a satisfied, exhausted smirk on her lips.
Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by ragged breathing and the soft hiss of the celestial waterfalls. Jasmine lay sprawled, breathing hard. Astrild trembled, silvery slickness dripping from her ravaged hole. Mystique remained arched, Bruce draped over her, the air still humming with the aftershocks of divine release. The mist swirled, obscuring the distant stars, holding the three claimed goddesses and their spent God-King in its humid, perfumed embrace. The challenge had been met. Worship had been given. And Mystique’s ascended power now pulsed like a dormant star beneath her sweat-slicked skin.
Steam swallowed Mystique’s fading light, the chamber echoing only with the slap of receding waves against marble and the ragged breaths of spent gods. Bruce slumped forward, his cheek pressed against Mystique’s sweat-slicked back, his monstrous cock still pulsing softly inside her clenching heat. Jasmine lay sprawled, tracing idle patterns in the mist-laden air, while Astrild shivered, silvery slickness gleaming on her inner thighs. The aftermath was thick, humid, and charged with a different kind of potential.
Then the air shifted. Not with crackling power, but with the dense, grounding scent of loam, crushed orchids, and volcanic rock. The steam parted like a curtain before a mountain. Ketut stood at the edge of the pool, water sluicing down her powerful Balinese curves. Her dark eyes, sharp as obsidian chips, swept the scene – the ravaged wives, Bruce prone over Mystique, the thick scent of sex and ozone.
A slow, knowing smile curved her full lips, predatory and warm. "Looks like the sky-gods wore you out, husband," she rumbled, her voice like stones grinding deep in the earth. Her gaze locked onto Bruce. "Time for solid ground." She waded into the pool, the water barely reaching mid-thigh on her strong legs. Her movements were deliberate, powerful, displacing the water with authority. She ignored the others, her focus solely on Bruce.
"Lay back," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. It wasn't a request. It was tectonic.
Bruce, still dazed from Mystique’s cosmic milking, instinctively obeyed the bedrock certainty in her voice. He slid off Mystique’s back with a wet sound, his cock slipping free, glistening and still impressively thick despite recent exertions. He sank back into the warm water, resting his shoulders against the smooth marble bench, the water lapping at his chest. His swirling eyes, more green than gold now, watched Ketut approach. A primal throb pulsed through his cock; Ketut’s dominion was elemental, undeniable.
Ketut stood over him, the water swirling around her hips. She placed one strong foot on the bench between his thighs, then the other, straddling him, her powerful calves framing his torso. Her dark skin glistened, droplets catching the starlight. She looked down at him, her expression fierce and possessive. "This ass," she declared, reaching back to grasp one magnificent, earth-sculpted cheek, spreading it slightly, revealing the tight, dark pucker nestled between, "has been patient. Too patient." Her other hand wrapped around the base of his thick, slick cock, aligning the broad, flushed head directly with her waiting entrance. Her grip was firm, anchoring. "Time to fuck it. Properly."
Bruce groaned, the anticipation like a seismic shift in his gut. "Ketut..."
"Shhh," she silenced him, her eyes burning. "Just feel." She didn't lower herself slowly. She didn't tease. Ketut, Goddess of Earth, took what belonged to her. She slammed down. Hard.
SCHLORRRRRP!
The brutal invasion was instantaneous. Her powerful thighs flexed, driving her body down onto his massive girth with the force of a landslide. Her tight asshole stretched obscenely around the invading shaft, yielding with a wet, tearing sound that echoed off the obsidian walls. Bruce roared, arching up off the bench, water sloshing violently. The stretch was beyond brutal – it was foundational, earth-shattering. He was buried to the root inside her bowels in one devastating motion, his balls crushed against her firm perineum, her heavy ass cheeks slamming down onto his pelvis.
"FUCKING GODS! KETUT!" Bruce bellowed, his voice raw. His hands flew to her powerful hips, fingers digging into the resilient flesh, feeling the immense strength coiled there. Her inner walls were furnace-hot, impossibly tight, gripping his cock with the crushing pressure of tectonic plates shifting. "Tight! So fucking tight! You’re splitting me!"
Ketut threw her head back, a guttural cry ripping from her throat – pure, savage satisfaction. "YES! FUCK YES! STUFFED! FINALLY!" She didn't pause. She didn't adjust. She began to ride. Not a gentle rise and fall. Ketut fucked his cock with her ass. She lifted herself almost entirely off him, his thick shaft glistening wet and obscene, slick with her heat and their combined fluids, then slammed back down with devastating force, impaling herself anew with every drop.
THWACK! SCHLORP! THWACK!
The impacts were thunderous. Water erupted around them with each descent. Her powerful thighs and glutes worked like pistons, driving her body up and down his impaling length. Bruce could only hold on, his knuckles white on her hips, grunting with each brutal penetration as she took him deeper than thought possible, her ass swallowing every punishing inch. "Ride! Ride my cock, you fucking earth goddess!" he ground out, pushing up to meet her downward slams, intensifying the collision.
"THIS IS MY COCK!" Ketut roared, bouncing hard, her full breasts swaying, sweat mingling with the bath water on her skin. Her asshole stretched and clenched around the thick invader, a relentless, demanding friction. "THIS FAT FUCKING MONSTER IS MINE TO RIDE! MINE TO MILK!" She reached behind, fingers digging into her own ass cheek, spreading herself wider as she sank down again, ensuring he penetrated even deeper. "FEEL THAT? FEEL MY DIRTY HOLE GRIP YOU? MILK THAT GODHOOD OUT!"
Bruce’s control shattered. The raw, savage power of her taking him, the overwhelming tightness, the sheer force of her riding – it ignited a firestorm in his core. "GONNA CUM!" he bellowed, his hips bucking erratically beneath her relentless assault. "GONNA FUCKING BREED YOUR ASS, KETUT!"
"DO IT!" she screamed, slamming down with bone-jarring force, grinding her ass against his groin. "PUMP IT! FILL MY BOWELS! MARK YOUR FUCKING PROPERTY!" She clenched her asshole with superhuman force, a deliberate, sphincter-tightening spasm designed to milk him dry. Her inner walls rippled, massaging his cock with brutal efficiency.
The pressure, the command, the primal claim, detonated him. Bruce roared, a sound that shook the celestial waterfalls, as his cock swelled and erupted deep inside Ketut’s clenching heat. Thick, hot jets of cum blasted into her depths, pumping with savage intensity. "FUCK! TAKING IT! TAKING YOUR SEED!" Ketut shrieked, her own orgasm triggered by the scalding flood inside her raw channel. She slammed down one final time, impaling herself to the hilt, grinding viciously as she felt the spurting heat, her body convulsing around the buried cock milking her husband dry. Her powerful thighs trembled, her breath came in ragged, triumphant gasps. She held herself down, locked onto him, feeling every pulse, every spurt branding her from the inside.
Ketut’s grinding finally stilled, her powerful body trembling as Bruce’s final spurts painted her raw insides. Her low groan vibrated through his chest where she slumped against him, her sweat-slicked skin hot against his. The humid air hung heavy with the musky scent of spent passion, ozone, and Ketut’s earthy essence, thick as jungle loam. Silence, profound and exhausted, blanketed the celestial bath except for the rhythmic drip of water and their ragged breathing.
Then, a new scent sliced through the steam: expensive bourbon, old leather, and a sharp, commanding floral note – night-blooming jasmine. The mist parted like a curtain before a queen. Camille stood at the pool’s edge, water lapping gently at her ankles. She wore nothing but a smirk and the faint, knowing glint in her sharp eyes. Her gaze swept the tableau – Bruce pinned beneath Ketut’s powerful form, the other wives sprawled and panting on the benches, the air thick with the unmistakable aftermath of divine exertion.
"You look thoroughly drained, big guy," Camille drawled, her voice a low, smoky purr that cut through the stillness. She stepped into the pool, the warm water swirling around her calves, then thighs, as she moved with predatory grace towards them. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Bruce’s dazed expression beneath Ketut. "Ketut clearly staked her claim."
Ketut lifted her head, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest, her dark eyes flashing. "He’s planted deep, Camille. Find your own bench."
Camille’s smirk widened, predatory and utterly unphased. She stopped beside them, looking down. "Planted deep?" She let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Please. That little earthworm barely tickled his roots." Her gaze, sharp as obsidian, locked onto Bruce’s. "You have one more in you, husband?"
Bruce blinked, trying to focus through the haze of exhaustion and lingering ecstasy. His cock, impossibly, gave a weak throb where it was still semi-buried in Ketut’s heat. "Cam…"
"For your oldest wife?" Camille continued, her voice dropping, layered with history and a challenge that brooked no refusal. Her hand rested possessively on the curve of her hip, a gesture that was pure dominance. "The wife who once took four black cocks in her ass at once?" She leaned down slightly, her face close to Ketut’s, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that carried perfectly. "Scooch, Ketut. Let me get that dick in my ass."
Ketut stared, caught between fury and disbelief at Camille’s audacious demand. A low growl escaped her again, but Camille’s presence was an immovable force, a bedrock older than mountains. Reluctantly, with a final possessive grind that drew a choked groan from Bruce, Ketut began to lift herself. Her movements were slow, deliberate, radiating displeasure as she dismounted his softening cock with a wet, sucking sound. Thick, white cum streamed from her gaping hole as she shifted her weight off him, settling heavily onto the marble bench beside Bruce with a glare aimed squarely at Camille. "Make it quick, old woman," she muttered, though the faintest hint of grudging curiosity flickered in her eyes.
Camille ignored the jab. Her focus was absolute. She placed one elegant foot on the bench between Bruce’s splayed thighs, then the other, straddling him just as Ketut had moments before. But where Ketut was raw earth power, Camille was honed steel and ancient cunning. She looked down at him, her smirk replaced by an expression of pure, predatory intent. Her hand, cool and strong, wrapped around the base of his cock. It was slick with Ketut’s fluids and his own spend, still thick and heavy despite recent exertions. Under her touch, it stirred, thickening rapidly, veins swelling with renewed urgency.
"Still some life in the old god yet," Camille murmured approvingly, her thumb rubbing the broad, flared head, smearing pre-cum. She positioned the slick crown directly against her tight, waiting rosebud. Bruce could feel the incredible heat radiating from her core, a different heat than Ketut’s volcanic intensity – deeper, more controlled, promising exquisite agony. Her other hand reached back, fingers spreading one smooth, pale cheek, presenting her entrance obscenely. "Remember Bali, husband?" she breathed, her eyes locking onto his swirling hazel gaze. "Remember what this ass can do?"
Bruce’s breath hitched. Images flashed: Camille arched like a bow, taking impossible girth with a defiance that bordered on madness. "Camille…"
"Shhh," she silenced him, her voice a velvet command. "Just take it." She didn’t sink slowly. She didn’t ask. Camille, the first wife, the bedrock of his ascension, claimed what was hers. She dropped her hips.
Schhlllorrrck!
The sound was obscene, wet, and deep. Her tight ring stretched instantaneously around his monstrous girth, yielding with a shocking, slick surrender that felt both impossibly tight and terrifyingly deep. Bruce arched off the bench, a guttural roar tearing from his lungs. Water sloshed violently around them. The stretch was monumental, a claiming far beyond physical invasion; it felt like she was spearing his soul through his ass. She impaled herself completely in one devastating motion, her heavy ass cheeks slamming down onto his pelvis, forcing his entire length deep into her bowels. Her inner walls clenched like a vice made of molten silk, a crushing, rippling pressure that stole his breath.
"FUCKING HELL, CAMILLE!" Bruce bellowed, his hands flying to grip her waist, fingers digging into resilient flesh. "TIGHT! LIKE A FUCKING VISE!"
Camille threw her head back, a sharp, triumphant cry escaping her lips – pure, unadulterated conquest. "YES! OH FUCK YES! STUFFED TO THE ROOT!" She didn't pause. She didn't catch her breath. She began to move. Not the savage piston of Ketut, but a deliberate, powerful roll of her hips, grinding the entire length of his cock against her hypersensitive inner walls. She lifted only slightly before sinking back down with controlled, devastating force, milking him with every inch. "FUCK! FEEL THAT? FEEL MY DIRTY HOLE STRETCHED FUCKING RAILROAD-WIDE AROUND YOU?" She clenched her asshole deliberately, a powerful sphincter spasm that made Bruce gasp. "TIGHTER THAN ALL THOSE BLACK COCKS COMBINED, BRUCE! YOURS IS THE ONE THAT MATTERS!"
Bruce could only groan, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of her possession, the incredible heat, and the ruthless strength of her inner muscles working him. "RIDE! RIDE ME, YOU GLORIOUS BITCH! MILK ME DRY!"
"THIS ASS IS GODHOOD'S GRAVE!" Camille snarled, bouncing now, her movements gaining intensity, her breasts swaying, the water churning around them. Each downward plunge was a calculated assault, each lift a promise of more. Her hand snaked back, fingers digging into her own ass cheek, spreading wider as she slammed down, forcing him impossibly deeper. "FEEL IT SUCK YOU IN? FEEL IT CLAIM YOUR SEED? PUMP IT! FILL MY GUTS! MARK ME LIKE YOU MARKED THEM!"
The raw, savage ownership in her words, the impossible depth she took him to, the relentless clenching of her seasoned muscles – it ignited a final, cataclysmic eruption in Bruce’s core. "CUMMING!" he roared, his hips bucking wildly beneath her. "GONNA FUCKING FLOOD YOU, CAMILLE!"
"DO IT, YOU BASTARD!" she screamed, slamming down hard and grinding viciously. "FLOOD THIS ANCIENT HOLE! FILL IT TO THE BRIM! PROVE YOU STILL OWN IT ALL!" She clenched down with impossible force, a sphincter-tightening vice designed to strip him bare, rippling her inner walls in waves that milked him with brutal efficiency.
The pressure, the command, the sheer, undiluted claim of his first wife, detonated the last reserves within him. Bruce roared, a sound that shook the very foundations of the celestial baths, as his cock swelled and erupted violently deep inside Camille’s clenching, demanding heat. Thick, burning ropes of cum blasted into her depths, pumping with a ferocity that felt endless. "TAKING IT! TAKING EVERY FUCKING DROP!" Camille shrieked, her own climax triggered by the scalding flood branding her insides. She slammed down one final time, impaling herself to the absolute hilt, grinding with ferocious possessiveness as she felt the spurting heat, her body convulsing around the buried cock draining her husband’s divine essence. Her powerful thighs trembled, her breath came in ragged, triumphant gasps. She held herself down, locked onto him, feeling every pulse, every spurt sear itself into her very being.