She shuddered when she hit bottom, closing her eyes to relish her favorite activity. Yavara was a natural-born harlot (to put it nicely), and Prestira once again set herself to prove that experience trumps genetics. “Get back over there, you little bitch.” Prestira laughed as she pushed Yavara off her. Taking to heart her role as the dutiful bitch, Prestira immediately lapped up what had been spilled from her. Prestira gave in willingly, lying on her back with hedonistic lassitude, spreading her legs to await further doting. Brock glanced at me with a frown. You need to either defend or counterattack; not try both.” Prestira lectured Yavara as the dark-elf collapsed on the floor, her chest heaving. A vessel burst in Yavara’s eye, and Prestira collapsed on the floor. She writhed helplessly in the hair, bucking and heaving as her partners pulled back, then accelerated forward.
