The Debauched Of Antlin 35 The Impregnable City +18

In their coach, Rhea and Agathe avidly taste their partner's wet p.u.s.s.y. To offer them even more pleasure, the young maid placed on the side, pushes one of her fingers into their a.n.u.s which starts to throb.

Unlike hers, Agathe's p.u.s.s.y is very wide. Going to draw the love juice which is hidden in its depths, does not pose any problem to Rhea.

For more comfort, she spreads the pink l.a.b.i.a majora of the beautiful brunette and with her tongue she penetrates far into the one who has forgiven her. Comfortably lying under Agathe, Rhea lets the precious nectar flow along her little tongue.

Her throat full again, her mouth overflowing with the divine liquid that Agathe offers her in abundance, even if she regrets it, she has no choice but to swallow it.

As she revels in this slightly acidic substance, her tongue caresses the soft walls of this p.u.s.s.y, which, carried away by the pleasure, begins to contract.

The mouth covered with the juice of her friend, Rhea herself can't take it anymore.

Driven mad by the teeth that chew her c.l.i.toris. Losing her mind as she feels a second finger inserted in her a.n.u.s, she makes a loud moan and sprays Agathe's face.

Feeling the young brown woman not wanting to waste her love juice, sticking her mouth against her p.u.s.s.y trembling because of the powerful suction exerted, Rhea screams again.

…

Outside the coach, the soldiers charged with protecting the young women feel somewhat uncomfortable.

At this moment, their tight pants only than clutter them up. However, there is no doubt that if they started masturbating, the Colonel would punish them. There's that and finally, after this too long trip, they arrived.

They came here many times, but seeing Piotre's gates from that distance never left them indifferent.

...

This enormous oval opening carved out of a low but steep mountain, contributes to the reputation of the capital, which is said to be impregnable.

Seeming to pierce the rock, from here they can see the very high towers of the immense Royal Palace with their characteristic pointed roofs.

The strange view from the outside of the capital of Visgon, whether that like it or not, always provokes in the hearts of visitors, a various range of emotions.

Many armies have ventured to try to cross the natural walls of this city, but swept away by the magical cannons located on top of the mountain, all these madmen died miserably without even having made the slightest victim in the ranks of the army of the Kingdom of Visgon.

Just as centuries ago, the Orcs helped by Moats, to whom they promised half of the land of the Humans, some tried to dig tunnels under the mountain.

Others, more comfortable with the magic of the wind, such as the elves, thought that an air attack might pay off.

But... While some were stopped by a ground too rich in stone, others saw their attacks run aground on the holy dome protecting the city.

The years, then the centuries pa.s.sed.

By dint of resounding failures that led simultaneously to brutal reactions of the Human armies of Visgon, whatever the species or the foreign Kings, all gave up the idea of taking this place which according to rumors, would be protected by the G.o.ds.

...

The Misses must be warned. It would be unseemly if, once outside the gates of the Capital, onlookers and city guards heard two women enjoying themselves.

Seeing that none of his colleagues dare to take the responsibility of disturbing the young women, one of the four soldiers, having already had the pleasure of milking Rhea's huge t.i.ts before savagely f.u.c.king her, quietly steers his horse towards the big carriage.

"Miss Rhea, Miss Agathe, we'll reach the gates of Piotre in less than two minutes."

Getting two adorable moans for any answer, the soldier who pulls up his hard c.o.c.k and very excited, seriously plans to visit a brothel as soon as he arrives.

…

Shouldn't she be a little more scared? Anyone penetrates this enclosure for the first time is no different than a frightened kitten, but she, she smiles and seems to be watching the works on display in a museum.

He didn't want to bring her here. No, although he had considered this option the day he met her, he soon rejected it.

Why did he have to meet his General as soon as his motorcade pa.s.sed through the gates of the Capital? What an embarra.s.sing man and one who insisted that his wive be presented to his King.

Demoralized, fearing that His King, a lover of beautiful women with big b.r.e.a.s.t.s, would take a fancy to his future wife, Viscount La.s.sale, can only worry.

On his knees on the long red carpet facing the immense throne in which four well-made adult men could easily sit side by side, the Viscount begins to sweat.

"After what seemed like an eternity of absence, you are back at last, my dear friend! No such ceremonies between us, my friend and his wives, all raise your heads, please."

Here he comes. Entering the huge hall through a small side door, draped in a white and purple robe embroidered with gold threads, the King of the Kingdom of Visgon makes his majestic appearance.

"So this is what the king of such a mighty kingdom looks like?"

"Hmm? He may be relatively handsome, but if you ask me, I would say that this man is extremely effeminate. What do you think Rhea?"

"I completely agree with you. A man with that kind of walk can only love men. I don't know how many d.i.c.ks he got stuck in his a.s.s to waddle around like this, but there's no doubt that they must be counted in thousands."

"Yes, that's what I thought, too. "I mean, look at that clown wiggling his pelvis! He looks like an old turkey who wants someone to come and take care of his rump."

But can't those two idiots girls keep their mouths shut?

The viscount isn't sweating anymore. No, at this rate, he'll empty himself of all the water that contains his muscular body.

His throat is dry, thirsty, but wanting above all to silence Rhea and Agathe who, as always when they are together, talk nonsense, he sponges his forehead with his sleeve and coughs discreetly.

"It pleases me to see that Your Majesty seems even more valiant than when I left for my lands."

Usually, His King, in love with his own appearance and loving more than anything else to be flattered, would have laughed. This conceited man, would no doubt have minimized his words, not without asking for more of them, but now he is silent.

Seeing that his eyes do not leave the two young chatterboxes with big b.r.e.a.s.t.s in very light outfits, the Viscount trembles.

Let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d take Agathe if he wishes. To tell the truth, if she could get away from his future wife, it would save him a lot of trouble, but his Rhea...

He will even show himself generous. Let him even take his two concubines if the heart tells him so, but don't touch his beauty.

No, in no way, is she his. Whether he is a hillbilly living in the a.s.shole of the world or His own King, he will never allow anyone to take her away from him.

"My dear friend, I can see that these two beauties with disproportionate t.i.ts don't have married rings."

t.i.ts? Viscount La.s.sale wants to answer, however he chokes on his own words. Impossible that he lets this man with a hundred concubines carry away his treasure whose inner thighs are so welcoming.

"No My King, but this young lady will soon become my wife, therefore..."

"Therefore, she is not married. I want them both. Don't make that face, my friend. As a generous man recognized by all, I won't be selfish and once a year I'll lend them to you for a quarter of an hour.

All right, my friend, my new wives and I need to get to know each other more intimately. Therefore, and although I wish I had a longer chat with my old friend, it's time for you to get back to your barracks."