.. Not Istandar Zianamilizzi.It wasn’t the naga there. It wasn’t even a naga at all. It was a woman with ebony skin and woolly, black hair. Kyaza,...the wife of the centaur who had fucked Lasla. The one we would face in the equestrian tomorrow.She glanced at the two rakshasas about to pounce than at me. Lust burned in her. This wild, maddening need to fuck me. I smiled. That wasn’t a natural lust. This was my sister’s work. Lasla had twisted Kyaza’s passions toward me.The centaur’s wife had to. .. but not comedy. She appreciated comedy, she just wasn't very good at it. Eventually, she could silence the giggle, but it took tweaking an aroused nipple.Even though she tried to refocus her eyes on the lines of black and red numbers, her brain would not allow it. She pushed a hand deep between her thighs and pressed at her womanly junction. She was really wet.It was the kind of wet that just diddling her moist button wouldn't soothe. She needed penetration. At home, her trusty rabbit. More

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