I rose slowly, standing before her, watching as Khione followed with graceful precision. She knelt before me, her movements fluid, like melting ice slipping into flowing water. Her pale, delicate hands reached up, her fingers moving with reverence and intent, tracing the fabric at my waist.
When Khione knelt before me and pulled down my pants, the cool air kissed my thighs, and her pale eyes widened slightly as my cock swung into view—languid, but thick, heavy, already pulsing faintly despite its flaccid state. Even soft, it carried that imposing weight that always made her hesitate for just a moment, biting her lip, as if mentally bracing herself. That look—half worship, half challenge—never failed to send a thrill straight through me.
