“You’re close, aren’t you girl?” Bors taunted, voice a strained grunt of hot passion.  “I can tell from the way you’re milking me.”  He gasped, then closed his eyes and focused on enjoying her body for a few more minutes before initiating his end game.<br/>Knowing what he had in mind, Luca gave a wicked grin and sped his thrusts.  He penetrated the girls throat again and again, then squeezed her hair and commanded, “Drink.”  The mighty teifling threw back his head and roared his conquest as his seed gushed down her throat.<br/>After some time spent buried in her throat, Luca backed away, manhood still stiff.  He left the assassin free to speak and gathered Nichole in his arms.  Sitting back down in his chair, he leaned back to watch the fun, hands roaming freely over Nichole’s body.<br/>Bors chose this moment to begin his game.  “Are you looking forewords to bearing my son, girl?” he taunted, neither slowing nor speeding in his steady thrusts.<br/>