Yuna's eyes filled with fresh tears.
The humiliation of the instruction broke something behind her fallen seraph composure — the tarnished gold of her bloodline flickering as she sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing to a painful depth, the left testicle stretching her jaw as she suckled.
Kira squeezed her eyes shut.
The dojo girl's disciplined mouth clamped down on the right ball, her tongue working in rapid, precise circles, her technique abandoned for raw desperation. Her nose pressed against the inside of his thigh, tears rolling silently from her closed eyes and dripping onto his skin.
"That's better," he murmured.
Pah! Pah!
His hips resumed their rhythm, punching his cock deeper into Marga's divinely protected throat. The table shook with each thrust, the legs scraping stone. Marga's whole inverted body jiggled — her heavy tits slapping her own chin, her thick thighs flopping outward, her chubby belly rippling toward her chest with every brutal impact.
"GKKH~!! HRRNGH~!!"
