CHAPTER 26
POPPY
The man on the couch was bigger than Ian. Broader, more muscular, with his dirty blond hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He had bright blue eyes, tan skin and a wedding ring catching the light on his left hand.
His shirt was hanging open, chest and abs glistening, slick with sweat.
His pants were shoved down around his ankles.
And he was F.u.c.king a toy.
A clear silicone p.u.s.s.y, realistic and gripping, stretched obscenely around a c.o.c.k so thick. He was not as long as Ian's or Daddy’s, but he was girthy. God, the thickness of his c.o.c.k alone, made the toy deform around him, the silicone clinging to every inch as he pumped in and out in hard, driving thrusts.
His c.o.c.k curved slightly left, the head flared, dark red, soaked with lube and prec.u.m, an
