“Ahh, fox, you’re so fucking hot!”
Aragorn’s spunk comes creaming, a heavy jettison of hot lava, lashing over his knuckles, his firm grip, milking, draining, tugging himself clean.
Robert’s balls, squeeze tight, his own hot seed sewn deep inside you, as over and over he thrusts his cock, his stroke growing shorter, calmer, softer, until finally his breathing lowers and slows.
A patina of sweat coats you both, and neither of you could form a coherent sentence, not even if you wanted to. Robert lets your mane slip from his grip and you shudder, senses heightened.
He traces his fingertips down the length of your spine, feeling for each vertebrae and blessing the beauty of you, whispering as his hands wander: “God you’re magnificent, such an amazingly hot woman, you’re beautiful fox, thank you, thank you”
His spent cock softening, sliding coyly from you, and with his defeat, his strength collapses. Carefully he lays down, openly hoping you’ll curl, post coital, down on to the bed to lay beside him.
Aragorn climbs up onto the other side and the three of you now lay together, interconnected, your hearts and lungs beating and swelling in rhythm with one another, each of you gazing absently up at the salacious imagery of the baroque painted ceiling.
Your hyper vigilant senses attune to the minutest of movements, detecting a sound and subtle shift in the air, telling you Dante is rising from his chair, approaching the bed, and without needing to look you’re aware of his attention.
An energy draws your eyes, causing you to glance away from the daydream of imagery painted into the ceiling above you. Your eyes meet with Dante’s as he leans forward, and lowering to his hand, you see he’s holding the black velvet cloth.
Unbidden, you watch your knees rise, bending, your feet and ankles drawing in toward your hips, your musculature engaging, abdominals and glutes flexing, pushing down through your legs to raise your sex toward him.
Above the elevation of your hips you catch a brief glimpse of his burning hazel eyes as he slips free from the masquerade mask and despite your view of his face being obscured by your elevation, you know the eyes are those that come in your dreams and praise and pleasure you with equal conviction.
Curiosity draws the attention of Minerva and Angelica, and with a predatory approach they stalk their way on either side, and you’re helpless, unable to form a sound or to volunteer any movement of your own, as you watch them run their hands over the men beside you.
You watch how they caress the men’s muscled thighs, running their fingers over their tight waists and up onto the men’s chests. Each man groaning with gratitude for the soothing, their skins rekindling their pleasure, as these demonic creatures work their skilled seduction.
Aragorn turns his face toward you and his expression melts in heavenly pleasure as Angelica places her mouth around his cock and begins to suck the life back into his manhood.
He opens his mouth with a groan, his raven dark hair falling around his face and he speaks with the same strength and conviction as might your guardian angel: “You’re so beautiful fox, fuck, I want you”
Then a loud groan from the other side, and turning your head you see Minerva now sucking at the limp, sex-softened cock of Robert, his face flushing with the freshness of his man-boy good looks.