Juices flooded into Zanyia's hungry mouth. The lamia purred her delight, lapping up my cream. Her tongue flew across my sensitive labia, adding more d...light shooting through me.The ecstasy reached my mind. I loved it. I savored cumming. Zanyia was right. My race descended from Las, the God of Lust, fucking Cernere, the Goddess of Crime. We were horny, tricky creatures. And it was wonderful.My tongue flew across my lips, gathering every drop of my new husband's spunk I could while the rapture. The only thing she had succeeded at was making Mrs. Madsen cry.Now she was just glad to be home. She had slipped off her pants and her jacket, grabbed a glass of Merlot and copy of Camus’s The Stranger and settled into the comfy chair in her den. Then the door rang. Phillip had gone out and bought a knife instead of a bottle of Jack, shiny and new, with the textured sort of handle that wouldn’t show prints or slip when bloody. He also bought two pairs of coveralls, the slate blue kind that. More

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