Aiden lay on his back, chest heaving, every inch of his god-like body glistening. His white hair clung to his forehead, blue eyes half-lidded but still sharp with hunger. His cock—twelve inches of thick, veiny, wrist-thick meat—stood straight up, still rock-hard and twitching, coated in a shiny layer of cum and pussy juice from the marathon he had just finished.
He had fucked fifteen of his wives already. Hard. Deep. Until every single one of them was a twitching, overflowing mess. Yet his monstrous cock refused to soften.
Venya was straddling his hips, her soaked folds rested directly on top of his thick shaft.
She was wearing the new red qipao Seraphina had bought for her.
