As Syris stood before the full-length body mirror, she observed a silly grin on her face. Her reflection seemed almost unrecognizable to her. Her knees had nearly given way, buckling like a newborn fawn. The early morning exercise still lingered in her mind, leaving her eyes glossy and unfocused. She felt lost in the fog of the memories that flooded her thoughts, eroding her awareness, leaving only the seething ache of throbbing loins.
He appeared like a looming shadow, cupping her ass and giving her a nice squeeze. "I fucking love how thick you are," he said, recalling how she had him shooting blanks just a few hours ago. "How do you feel?"
Syris, with pleading eyes, looked up at Altair through the mirror. "I don't have the physical strength. No more," she said, betrayed by her naughty palm cradling his manhood beneath his trousers.
