Robert’s blonder, curling hair, seems slightly wet at the tips, wet with the sweat of his performance. His eyes pouring their wanting over you as through another groan he begs his confession: “You’re such a fox, your body feels so good and hot on my cock, god you’re so damn good”
Dante lovingly cups your sex with the black velvet cloth, a tender gesture, offering to clean away the spilt juice and roux of your lovemaking, before leaning in to gently kiss his praise inside your thighs, his attention slowly drawing him toward the swell of your perfection.
Beside you the women climb up on top of their chosen men and your arousal stirs beneath Dante’s kisses as you watch Angelica seductively straddle Aragorn, her hand coiling around his rigid, resurrected cock.
With a groan, gratified, she lowers herself on to him, her slender weight easing onto him, owning him, and as you watch Aragorn’s beautiful manhood slide inside Angelica, your own sex shudders against Dante’s kiss, as if touched from within, the memory of these men an echo inside you.
An empathy of emotion has you groaning in sympathy, helpless and wanting, as Dante now nudges his kissing lips more heavily against the wet flesh of your sex, while his fingertips grip to tease at the decorative hoop, piercing the mouth of the bronze skull, silver sculpture, the heavy plug that feels so good squeezed inside your behind.
Sucking air through your teeth, you draw deeply, your breast bruising with pleasure, as turning sharply you discover Minerva has wasted no time following Angelica’s lead, finding her way up onto the bed and straddling Robert, wickedly working herself onto his full cock, before leaning across his torso and selfishly seizing her chance to suck and tongue her approval upon your breast and nipple.
Another gasp grasps you, swiveling your head to find Angelica mimicking Minerva, competing for your attention, her head now buried into your breast and French kissing your nipple with utter heat and conviction.
Your eyes close, capturing a fresco fantasy, marveling at the romantic, decadent seduction painting over you, these two women feeding on you, eager and excited, one at each breast, with Dante between your thighs, his kiss pressing firmer, circling your clit with his tongue, and probing you with his fingers.
Aragorn groans as Angelica milks his cock. Robert moaning, manful and magnificent, then mewling like a man-boy as Minerva grips his every inch within her. The sound and heat of her breath feeding off your breast as she muffles the pleasure of taking his full cock inside her.
And between your legs, the slurping, panting, fevered wanting of Dante, gasping for air to fuel his passion, his hot tongue and kisses filled with pleasure and purpose.
Unconsciously your hands reach out, awoken with wanting more, moving over the men on either side of you, your fingers probing, feeling their way to the center of their tight torsos, then working your way down toward the short, curly sward of hair that gathers at the base of their thick cocks.