Dalia shifted Claude's cock in her hand, the scent rising from it—a heady mix of semen and her own arousal—strangely intoxicating. She wanted to taste it. Craved it, even.
But not yet.
She wanted to savor this moment. To watch Claude grow desperate, needy. After all, it had always been her who came undone.
Her pointed nose brushed softly along his shaft, and Claude shuddered beneath her touch.
"What are you waiting for, Mother?" he muttered, voice strained. "Can't you see how hard I am?"
She smirked, eyes gleaming. "Don't be so impatient, Claude. I'm admiring the view. Don't you think your cock looks like a work of art? How does something this big even fit inside me?"
Claude chuckled, the tension in his voice still lingering. "Guess I got lucky with your genes."
Dalia laughed softly. "Hmm… I wonder if that's really the reason," she murmured, wrapping her fingers around his shaft.
