Artis stretched his arms casually, his massive cock still draped across Juliana's stunned face like it was claiming new territory.
"Is it me, or is this alcohol weak as fuck?"
He asked, as if he wasn't using his dick as a conversation prop.
Meanwhile, the beast itself wasn't playing around. Precum started to ooze from the bulbous head, dripping like a leaky faucet and leaving sticky trails on her bewildered expression.
Juliana's lips parted slightly, whether from shock or instinct, and the glistening tip slid down her cheek, leaving a wet, shameful path until it perched right atop her plump, trembling lips.
"I-It's not that weak."
Lui stammered, snapping out of his trance. His inner liquor snob kicked in, scrambling to add some coherence to the chaos.
"Alcohols like this... uh... they tend to hit you way later. You know, slow burn, like... like a rich man's hangover."
