lynn lew

“Good girl, sissy! I knew you had it in you! And now, you're about to really have it in you!” She laughed at her own joke, and started to push. True to her word, at least she went slow. I gasped and moaned, feeling the huge, hot weight of her gradually stretching me open, relentlessly forcing her way inside. She grabbed hold of me, one arm wrapping tightly around my leg, her other reaching around to grasp my dick. She wasn't stroking me anymore, not intentionally, but as she began slowly thrusting in and out of my ass, working her way deeper, the effect was the same. It took her maybe five minutes or so to finish getting all the way in, pressing hard against my ass, grinding to make sure I was feeling every last inch she had to give.

Roc had the advantage of experience against this style, but his missing arm proved a debilitating handicap. In one regard, it made dodging easier, as he had less mass to move out of the way of Ingram’s attacks, and he couldn’t be slowed down with painful flesh wounds to the missing limb, but it also left his offense and defense on his right side almost nonexistent. Depending on who he was fighting and what type of combatant they were, the severity of such a handicap was variable, but against such a similar warrior, his disadvantage was increasingly evident with each passing second. Back and forth, over and over, they hurled attacks at each other and then pulled back, using their wings to move in and out of each other’s reach.

“All I ever wanted was to change the world, to make it a better place where the weak wouldn’t be stepped on and enslaved, where freedom was a right instead of a privilege. I pushed myself, I struggled, I suffered, all for that goal, and survival is the best I could accomplish? If I have to focus only on survival, to be grateful just for staying alive, then how am I supposed to change anything? How am I any different from those who do nothing to fix this broken, corrupt reality?”