He positioned himself behind Cleora. "My fierce, proud mother," he whispered, guiding his cock to her entrance. He pushed in with the same tender, inexorable slowness as before, sheathing himself fully inside her warmth. He set a steady, deep rhythm, his hands gripping her hips not to punish, but to anchor them both. After a dozen such soul-stirring thrusts, he withdrew, his cock slipping from her with a wet sound.
Without a word, he shifted to Raayani. "My arrogant, beautiful queen." He entered her in the same way, his thickness stretching her differently, her inner walls clinging to him with a desperate, velvety heat. He fucked her with the same measured, profound depth, his pace a mirror of what he'd given Cleora. He was creating a symphony, and they were his instruments.
