He’s older than the first.
Late thirties, maybe forty. Broader. More experienced. When his robe parts, I see a c**k that makes me gasp – longer than the First Vessel’s, thicker, with a slight curve that promises to hit places I didn’t know I had.
He doesn’t wait for the formal blessing.
Just steps between my legs, wraps his hand around his shaft, and looks at my c*m-filled p***y with undisguised hunger.
"Beautiful,” he murmurs. ”Already dripping with seed. Let me add to it."
He guides himself to my entrance. The First Vessel’s c*m provides lubrication – obscene wet sounds as he pushes the head of his c**k through the mess, seeking my opening.
He finds it.
And pushes inside in one smooth, devastating stroke.
"OH GOD – "
He’s bigger than the First Vessel – I feel the difference imme
