deepest deep throat

Roc and Ingram hurled themselves forward, propelled by a pulse of their wings, and met in midair with two kicks swinging, only for their legs to collide like dueling swords. They dropped down to the ground and again went at it, hurling attacks at each other with rapid speed and ferocious power. Their long legs swung wide, their talons capable of gutting each other like fish. Ingram used a similar fighting style to Roc, relying on kicks imbued with slashing talons, but just as Roc was skilled in the technique, so too was he accustomed to defeating it, having fought countless eagle warriors back home like himself.

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Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.