cribe

With her head now closer she realised what she had inadvertently been getting dangerously closer to. Right beneath his pubic hair her father’s penis lay across his thigh, the business end pointing right in her direction. Sarah had seen a few penises when looking at porn and even her own father’s penis when she was a little girl in the showers at the pool, but seeing it now, so close and feeling the way she did took her breath away. Though smaller than in any of the pornos it was no slouch in thickness department, and it seemed to be barely hard at the moment. And unlike any of the shaved ones she saw in porn it was covered in a bush of pubic hair. Something about it made it seem so real! Which Sarah realised was a stupid thought. Of course it was real. It was her father’s real penis and balls right in front of her face. What was she expecting to find?

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.

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.