Lola’s fingers tangle in my hair, and she pulls me closer, deepening our kiss. It's like time stands still as we explore each other's mouths, our tongues dancing in a heated tango. She moans softly as my hand brushes against her underwear, and I can feel the heat rising between us. It's like we're two flames, and the fire between us is growing hotter by the second. I can't help but think about Bree, waiting outside the door for her turn. It's like we're in some kind of twisted game, and this makes things even hotter. As Lola pulls away from our kiss, she bites her lip, teasing me with her gaze. “What if your wife gets back?”“My wife? Bree? Bree’s not—”I swallow, remembering Lola’s Sexual Insight. Getting caught in the act is one of her favorite fetishes that gets her off. The fear of being caught in the act can be incredibly arousing for both partners and can create an adrenaline rush that further heightens the pleasure of the experience. Once, I had a wild time at the beach. Th

I wake up to the sound of Lola snoring softly beside me. Her hair, a tangled mess, tickles my cheek. With a gentle touch, I brush it away and tuck it behind her ear. Her makeup is smudged, evidence of a long night. Yet, her face looks peaceful and content. Bree is asleep on my other side, her arm draped over my chest. Her breath tickles my neck, head resting against my shoulder. I shift slightly, making Bree stir in her sleep. I stretch my arms, feeling a little cramped from sleeping in such a tight space. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am and what happened last night. I turn my head to look at Bree again, and she opens one eye, giving me a lazy smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she says, her voice husky with sleep. "Did you have fun last night?"I grin back at her, feeling a warmth in my chest. "I definitely did not expect to wake up like this."Lola lets out another snort, and I can't help but chuckle at the sound. It's like a little piglet snoring beside me. "Wel

The wheels creak and groan as they turn, the sound amplified by the stillness of the surrounding countryside. Despite their slow pace, the horses seem to know where they're going and move steadily forward, their hooves thudding rhythmically against the dirt road. I glance at Bree, who is dozing off next to me in the driver’s box. As we ride along the winding path, the earth rises and falls beneath us. The trees rustle in the soft breeze, and the tall grass sways gently as we pass. The sun shines down upon us, casting long shadows off our forms, and the distant mountains rise up in the hazy distance, beckoning us forward. To my utmost surprise, driving the carriage is simpler than I had anticipated. The reins feel sturdy and the horses respond promptly to even the slightest movements of my hands. I guide them carefully, ensuring a smooth ride and avoiding any obstacles on the road that may jostle our esteemed passengers. [I’m impressed, daddy]Why? [You can help people just becaus

Lily delicately lifts a spoonful of soup to her husband's mouth, relishing the sight of his nourishment. She watches him with a loving gaze, giving him all her attention. Sasha and Bree huddle over a glittering tray of polished gemstones, their eyes alight with fascination. With animated gestures, Sasha explains about the craft of gemcrafting and enchantments. They examine each stone closely, marveling at the cut, clarity, and color. As Sasha discusses the gemstones’ properties, I divert my attention to my recently acquired enhancement. With it, I have the ability to discern anyone's sexual inclinations simply by looking at them— a thrifty tool in my opinion. My attention settles on Sasha, and I can't help but wonder what her preferences might be. I decide to test her out. A sly grin spreads across my face as I begin to read. [Sasha, a 22-year-old virgin, is a naturally fiery individual who longs for carnal exploration. However, her lack of sexual experience has left her naive an

Sasha leans in closer to the gemstone, carefully inspecting it under the magnifying glass, occasionally jotting things down in her notebook. On a chair near the bookcase, Bree flips through “The Botanical Healer’s Handbook” with interest, occasionally reading aloud interesting tidbits to Sasha. The faint smell of lavender wafts from the book’s pages, mixing with the quiet scratching of Sasha's pencil. I dare not read that book even if I know it’s not recommended to judge a book by its cover. But this one looks like it's been through the wringer and the blender, and maybe even a stampede of wild boars. It's a hodgepodge of textures, colors, and materials, with the binding held together by what looks like ancient bubblegum. The edges of the cover are frayed and torn, with bits of moss and dirt clinging to the surface.The title, written in what might be dragon's blood— or just really old red ink— is barely legible… Something like "The Botanical Hea-r's Hand-ook". It's clear that this