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Chapter 26: Irene’s Wet Pussy
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... g into the grass. I followed close behind, my gaze locked onto the sway of her hips—the way her ass shifted with each step, the way the hide clung to the curve of her thighs.
The dampness between her legs was obvious now, the glistening trail dripping down her skin, the scent of her—musky, sweet, intoxicating—filling the air between us.
"Welheim, you can piss here." She pointed to a patch of grass, her voice practical—maternal. "And remember—when you poop, dig a hole..." She mime ...
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