Lui's jaw hit the metaphorical floor.
On the bed, there was Artis, all naked glory and rippling muscles, looking like he'd just stepped out of a steamy erotic novel titled "Conquered by the Hero." But that wasn't the kicker.
No, the kicker was the person kneeling in front of him, head covered with a sheet like some depraved ghost playing hide-and-seek with Artis's cock.
Lui's brain short-circuited. He didn't need a degree in "What-the-Fuckery" to know exactly what was happening.
Below the sheet, the mysterious lady was very much not wearing any clothes.
Her ass—round, plump, and jiggling with every enthusiastic movement—was on full display, like an award-winning peach at a county fair.
For a split second, Lui's traitorous mind wandered. Why the hell doesn't my wife have an ass like that? It's like it was sculpted by the gods themselves... or at least a really horny one.
