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“Yeah maybe.” My spent cock slid out of Carol’s ass with a wet pop, followed by a creamy gush of my cum. I flopped onto the sofa. Carol plopped down beside me, an instant wet spot started oozing onto the leather cushion. “Should I get a towel or something? That’s quite the mess.”“I’ll lick it up before I go to bed. Or not. Don’t care. I’ll flip the cushion before my husband gets home.”“You never did that before?” I asked.

He pushed against the seal, using his mana to separate from his clone, but it was like he was buried in concrete. He couldn’t project his mana even a centimeter beyond his skin. It was even more difficult than performing his workout, but this was precisely what he wanted. Saimallah said that he and his fellow monks used these headbands to train their projection abilities, and there was no better way than this. As he struggled and strained, the seal began to give, ever so slightly, feeling less like concrete and more like rubber.

“Cum in my mouth, sweetie. I want to swallow your load. You can’t shoot your cum on my dress, everyone will know what it is.” Grunting heavily, trying to hold back my cum, I said nothing but reached up with one hand and unzipped her dress. The fabric fell away, revealing her lacy blue bra and spine. “What ARE you doing? You can’t undress me here. Let me…” She started to straighten up but I pushed her back down.