Caius could barely move. Her winged liner accentuated the pleasure across a flushed, freckled face. Caius was losing breath as much as Marishka. His e...ection made walking toward her difficult. He KNEW she sensed his presence but did not fear continuing. An exhibitionist like her? This must be a wet dream come true for Marishka.His fangs dripped saliva over exposed, succulent breasts; Marishka’s impatience freed skin by the second and Caius' enthusiasm would obsess over each nipple, inch and. I didn’t mind. My breath smelled of it, too.The next morning, her breasts had gotten larger. My wife was so skinny at that time—professional power-woman pantsuit slender—that any change to her body was noticeable.“They’re bigger,” she said. She was standing before the mirror, looking at herself from the side, holding them up. “Meatier.”“That’s a gross word.”“But they are,” she said. “Fleshier, already. Maybe I won’t last a week.”She said it matter-of-factly, as if she’d acclimated to the. More

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