My Beastly Husband

“Okay, little thing. As you wish.” Chelsea laughed in response. Then he moved fiercely, as fast as an electric motor. Moussa’s whole body was about to break apart. Her breathing became ragged, her legs were helplessly flailing, and her body was bowed and pushed upward.
Chelsea madly thrust a few hundred times, that Moussa moaned less and less, looking like fainting again. Then a violent impact of hot seeds was shot into hers.

After the passion, Moussa hung limp on top of Chelsea, whose expression was still a bit sullen. Moussa sighed. This lion was really cautious. After thinking about it, she explained, “Husband, I really only think of Ryan as a friend, so don’t be jealous.”

“What are you talking about? Who’s jealous?” When Chelsea was seen through his heart, he looked down and bit at her sweaty little face, a little annoyed.
“Yes, yes, yes, you are not jealous. I am talking nonsense, so you can take out that thing of yours now.” Moussa helplessly said, following him, but his awkward look was pretty cute.

“What is that thing. It’s a big contributor to your happiness. Want to kiss it, eh?” Chelsea was getting hot again from what she said. He teased her by rubbing the two lumps on her chest.

“You. Mmmm. Stinky lion.” Moussa knew what he was up to and hammered him hard. “Get it out. I promised Ivy that I would cook sweet potatoes for her, and she’s waiting.”
“Then come back tonight, and you have to kiss it,” Chelsea spoke in a threatening tone, with the intention of not letting her go if she disagreed.

“You,” Moussa blushed and glared at him. He was a lion, full of thoughts of that kind of thing. Although she thought so, she still nodded in a compromised manner.

“Not only do you need to kiss it, but you also need to lick it well and suck it,” Chelsea demanded.
“Okay, okay, whatever you say. You take it out first.” Moussa felt that he was getting hard again. She was afraid that he would do it again, so she nodded.

Seeing that she had agreed, Chelsea then reluctantly pulled out.

Without his stick, the white fluid flowed out of hers and slid down her thighs. Moussa hurriedly rushed inside the bathroom with her bowed back, covering herself.
Chelsea’s body was hot, and his stick was hard again, so he chased her to the bathroom and pressed her against the wall of the tub, forcing her to have another go.

It was already dark when Moussa finally baked the sweet potato and sent it to Ivy to eat. There was no clock here, so Moussa didn’t know how long it had been. But looking at Ivy’s teasing gaze, Moussa couldn’t wait to find a crack in the ground.

Ivy took advantage of Chelsea and Sander’s inattention. She whispered in Moussa’s ear and said, “Moussa, Chelsea is very powerful. It lasted so long. You were thrilled to be f*cked, right? Say, how many times did he f*ck you? Three times or four times? It made me starve to death waiting.”

Oh God, let her die. Moussa was dying of shame. She was so embarrassed because of that lion.