Lord Of Succubi:Transmigrated As A Dual Cultivator In Isekai Of Magic

Up and down she went, sucking deftly. Sputtering sounds, like slithering noodles, wafted into the air.

The network of veins began to take shape. His tube bulged. And the pink tip slid against her flattened tongue. The poor guy swallowed. Completely unaware of his masculinity, he gripped the sheets tightly, groaning into the evening.

The bed creaked quietly as she had her way with him.

Twirling her pink tongue around his cock- she closed in on his tip, sucking him- clamping her cheeks together as she released him.

"Angel. . .Angel. . ." he panted pathetically; "I'm going to release. . ."

then release already you stupid fuck!

"It's coming. . ."

She gripped his balls- and squeezed. Wood yelped like a whipped puppy;

"Yes. . .yes. . ."

She picked up the pace- sucking him rapidly- clenching and unclenching her cheeks.

"F-U-U-U-CK!!"

Against her tongue, a weak stream sliced out. She swallowed immediately- clamping her cheeks- tingling his baby behemoth with her tongue. Her jaws slacked, and she drew back her head. His throbbing cock was bathed in her fluids. Strings of saliva danced in thin strips- dangling as his organ slipped out of her.

With her thin slit eyes, Angela glanced up to steal a look.

Truly, with his neck thrown far back, his chest obviously tightening, and his jaws locked, Wood looked like he was having a heart attack. This fuckin' nincompoop better not die. . .

"ANGEL-L-L!!" He shrieked.

As his cock ejected the last stream of cum, his torso jerked- curling his toes at the same time. The succubus lapped up every bit of his weak semen. In watery drops, it wheezed out of his small cock.

"Oh-fuck. . .fuck. . ." he bellowed like a starved bull.

Almost immediately, his organ began to go soft in her mouth. She slid in and out of him- jiggling her waist behind her. From the outer folds of her groin, the delicious scent of her fluids curled up into the room- rising above the fragrance of the burning incense. freew ebnove l.com

A deep snort rasped out of his throat-

'Fuck,' he thought; 'This girl is the G.O.A.T. . .'

Under the pink canopy, like slithering shadows, their bodies collapsed back into the bed. Both their chests kept rising and falling. Hot breaths sliced through their nostrils- panting heavily like they had been running all days.

"Fuck, Angel," Wood stuttered under his breath; "That was heckin' awesome-!"

Raw enthusiasm kept bleeding into his tone;

"-I mean, I totally get why you're called the blonde dragon!"

"Er, you must be mistaking me for someone else," she cut in smoothly; "I believe Lady Russell is the one who used to be called the blonde dragon."

"Forget about that old wench," he spat; "Nobody cares about some old hag. Her time's past. You are the future."

The corners of her mouth widened- flashing him a cute smile;

"You're so sweet Woody," she wiped the hedge of her lower lip; "I think my jaws are gonna be sore for the next couple of daysss. Gosh, you're so big."

Wood's head swelled so much, brain pressed against his frontal lobe. He eyed her body furtively- dragging his graze from her heavy cleavage, to her jewelled belly button-?down to her fleshy thighs.

He swallowed; "You're an absolute wonder, you know that right?"

Angel giggled.

Before he could think of cuddling, or some shit like that, her elbows sank into the lush foam. With a smooth arch, she pushed herself upwards, swinging both her legs off the bed. Behind her, the pink robe flowed- following her like a bridal train as she floated across the room.

Wood's throat gulped audibly.

'Bloody hell,' he swore inwardly; 'Look at that dangerous ass. . .I could spend the rest of my life between those thighs. . .just look at that. . .fuck. . .'

Still pretending to be unaware of what she was doing, she bent forward, arching her upper body till it was perpendicular to her legs. On the velvety sofa, deep in between the cushions, her fingers searched for a foot-long glass pipe.

"Where is it. . ." she mumbled; "I know I kept it around here somewhere. . ."

The bulge of her buttocks pressed out against her robe. Between each jiggly cheek, the slit of her butt crack sliced through nicely. Wood growled;

'Son of a bitch, I need to take her again! One more time! I don't care if I cum blood.'

He glanced down at his limp dick, snarling at his own disappointing organ. Who was he kidding? He was done. Or, maybe he could-

"Want to smoke with me?"

Her silky voice, smooth as water, purred from her lips. The prostitute floated towards him like a mirage- wrapped in fluttering fabric and warped in a cloud of smoke.

"What's that?" he asked anxiously, arching his brows.

"It's a surprise," her buttocks sank into the bed- "Come on, don't tell me you're scared of a little smoke."

"I'm not," he rasped defensively; "I just don't fuck with smoke that's all."

Angel's catlike eyes narrowed;

"Take it," she extended her arm- giving him the lit end; "It should help you relax. Who knows, you might be able to get hard in a couple of minutes. . ."

"Give it to me," he snapped- reaching sharply with his hand out; "Next time, you might want to lead with that."

Angel rolled into the bed, heaving her bouncy thighs with her. She sank into the foam, crossing her legs into each other. Wood on the other hand, gripped the foot-long glass pipe with a steady grip.

Its warmth seeped into his hand. Eagerly, with his neck craned forward, he inched it upwards- towards to his mouth. With amusement, Angel watched as he parted his lips, and greedily sucked in a rich gust.

Almost immediately, it hit him.

Both his eyes flared open at once.

In thick droves, the smoke floated through his oesophagus, filtered into his lungs, and began to seep through every inch of his biology. By the time he exhaled, Wood felt as light as air.

Slowly, with wrinkles cascading across his forehead, and with his eyes glazed open like crystal orbs, he reclined backwards- landing on the headboard with a soft thud.

"Oh. . .My. . .Fucking. . .Gosh. . . " he sputtered, turning to face her; "This incredi–"

The last syllable died an unnatural death.

Wood's head inclined forward- narrowing his eyes at the blonde prostitute. From her lonely eyes, down to her pale cheeks, sad tears began to make their way down in silent trickles. Each drop raced across her face, running down her chin.

Wood blinked. Is she- crying?!

Her shoulders heaved in progressive jolts- vibrating with the sound of her sniffles.

"Angie," he asked- almost affectionately; "What's wrong? Did I do something? Talk to me?"

For a moment, the sound of her whimpering was all that was heard. She lifted the back of her hand to her face, wiping off the tears from her right cheek.

"No, no," she answered meekly; "It's nothing. Please, don't ask–"

Her voice cracked with emotion- seemingly unable to finish her sentence. She lifted her head up. Through her droopy eyes, pools of tears formed. They glistened with sadness- absorbing the orange glow of the candles- instead of reflecting them.

"Angel," Wood called, leaning towards her- cupping her hands in his; "Tell me, is something happening? Is someone bothering you?"

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