His banner had been flown by a thousand impostors over the centuries, all claiming to be the legend returned. They’d said he was behind the Tyronian...Purges, that he was the secret leader of the Sirian Death Cults, that he was working behind the scenes to orchestrate an endless parade of human misery. It had been a thousand years since his last confirmed sighting, but humanity still held its collective breath waiting for him to return. And here it was. The crimson fist, ascending from a. “Now, crawl over here and use your tongue to please me. You can stroke yourself but don’t come. Tongue fuck me and lick my clit until I tell you to stop.” For the next hour her hands held my head, applying my tongue as she wanted. Her legs wrapped around my head and she rocked against my face until she came over and over. My nose and chin were glistening with her juices, I was aching for release and had let go the grip on my cock for fear of ejaculating all over the floor. When she was sated. More

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