She bowed. Deep. The bow of a woman who had received the greatest gift possible and had nothing to offer in return.
Tianlong's gold-crimson eyes — looking at her bowed form, at the enormous tits hanging, at the thick hips, at the amethyst hair — softened.
His hand — large, pale — moved to his cock. His fingers — wrapped around the shaft — stroked. Slowly. The cock — twelve inches — hardened. The shaft filled, the pale skin stretching, the head darkening to crimson. His other hand — resting on his balls — rubbed. The sac — heavy, warm — shifted under his fingers.
He looked at Liu Mei. At her bowed form. At her enormous tits. At her thick hips. At her amethyst hair.
"Come here," he said.
She looked up. Her amethyst eyes — wet, wide — found his cock. The shaft — hard, twelve inches, the head crimson — stood rigid from his pelvis. She stared. Her beautiful face — sharp-featured, mature, the face of a three-thousand-year-old cultivator who had seen much — flushed.
