Another thought spiraled through Lui's booze-starved brain, one so horrifyingly vivid it made him shudder like a virgin on his wedding night.
Just yesterday, during his latest hallucinatory bender, he'd witnessed something his sober self would never dare conjure.
Images of this guy—Artis, fucking goddamn step son Artis—bending his wife over, her naked tits swaying like pendulums, filled his head.
Her moans, her flushed face, the obscene bounce of her boobs—it was all seared into his mind. And then the cherry on this grotesque cake: his wife gagging and choking on Artis's cock like she was auditioning for a job in hell's dirtiest cabaret.
The sounds. Oh, fuck, the sounds! Wet, sloppy, gag-inducing noises that somehow vibrated right through his skull and down to his own cock.
His pants twitched traitorously, reminding him of just how thoroughly his brain had betrayed him.
"Lui, I asked you a question. Answer me now."
