She looked at his cock.
Twelve inches of dark-veined, crimson-headed, divine shaft. The full impossible scale of it pressing against her lower belly where eight inches had pressed in candlelight three hundred and forty years ago and been called enough.
"This sect master," she said, "would like a new reference point."
Tianlong looked at her for a moment.
Then he smiled — not the clinical smile, not the satisfied smile of a man who has produced expected results. The smile of a man who is genuinely, simply pleased.
"Good," he said.
His hands moved from her tits to her hips. He turned her, slowly, to face the pool edge. Her enormous tits hung forward, swaying with the motion. His cock pressed against the soft, wide curve of her ass from behind, the thick shaft resting in the valley between her buttocks, the head pressing warm against the small of her back.
She put her hands on the pool edge.
