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“Shhh…” I shushed Carol. “Let me do this. I’ll stop if you tell me.” I pushed my finger in farther, knuckle deep. Carol didn’t say anything else. She even moved her hips a bit, gently fucking my finger with her asshole. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I withdrew my index finger and started to push two fingers into her relaxed opening. Two fingers of my other hand were still inside her pussy. I could see Carol with her eyes closed, her cheek against the cold granite, concentrating on the feeling.

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.

Sarah stayed in that same position for a while, curled in ball right by his side, playing with his body hair and breathing in his scent. As she was thinking about making her retreat her hand strayed a bit too far down his belly and hit something scratchy. Though about to fall asleep, this curious sensation brought her out of it. She had pulled her hand back as soon as she felt it, but she once again brough her hand out to her dad’s stomach, fingers on her outstretched hand trailing down his flat stomach and just above his pelvis. With her pinkie finger she pressed down and felt that same patch of scratchy hair. Her sleepy mind finally registered what it was. It was his pubes.