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Of course I didn’t refuse, but I had just cum twice, harder than ever in my life, in less than an hour. I was pretty certain there was no way I was going to get hard again. But I squeezed her ass around my cock and used her butt cheeks to stroke my cock. Carol moved her hips to help me slide, reaching between her legs to grab my balls. She finished cleaning the island and turned to face me. I bent down and kissed her, and she plunged her tongue into my mouth. It was a sticky, sweet, salty mixture coating her tongue.

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.

I retrieved my bag that had some clean running clothes in it and returned to the master shower. I turned on the water, steaming hot, stripped, opened the glass door and stepped in. I thought at the time it was a nice shower, but I know now it was a typical tract house cubical. I was thankful for the opportunity to jack off, as my cock had been rock hard since Mrs. B’s dress rode up, exposing her lovely thighs when she got in the car. I was just soaping up my dick to get some relief when I was startled by the opening of the shower door. Mrs. B. stepped into the shower, naked, holding a plastic cup. She handed me the cup.