french bodybuilder

Noah continued punching the bag in her place. “Since when has it ever been fair? When I was in Handent, I fought a Profane who forced me to fake my death in order to escape, and another captured me like a fly in a web. In Welindar, the battle was lost because I failed to kill Kaisen before he could transform. This is the struggle of fighting against the Profane, the struggle of being outclassed and overpowered. In this war, surviving with just a bruised ego is victory enough. You stood up to that monster, you fought, you survived.

The following two fights went by with little enthusiasm from the audience. Their thirst for blood had been beyond satiated, and now they were simply left sick. Foley withstood his opponent’s attacks as always, waiting for him to tire before opening his defenses and striking back. Saimallah crushed his opponent without touching him, ending the match in seconds.

Sarah swallowed; her mouth suddenly dry with nervousness. She was sweating from the strain of holding herself in place, but that sudden slickness gave her an idea. Easing her pressure on the bed her body weight now mostly fell on her father, her breasts crushed against his chest. Pushing forward with her hands her body slipped an inch down her father, and that inch translated to an inch down below. It was more sudden than she intended, her father’s tip pushed fast and hard past her lips and into her dripping pussy. She moaned in ecstasy, unable to hold it in. She could feel him inside her now, stretching her opening and with it, feel the beat of his heart in her most sensitive place. She was on fire.