Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
"AhHhHhhH!" he yelps as the ultimate weapon flips towards him, hips lifting up in an attempted dodge. It strikes him square, bouncing off, and he flops back down, wounded. Lotion-slick hands grab blindly for the ammunition, fumbling for a second before grasping the sandal firmly in hand. He rotates it so that he's got a grip of the back heel portion, then swings towards her suddenly, pushing off with his other hand and his legs, still low but aiming to close the distance suddenly even if it means an ungraceful landing on his chest. As he sails, he yells, sandal in hand reaching out to smack her on the ass, ideally, for all its padding, but also to see it jiggle with the force.
Expecting retaliation to be swift and ferocious, he rolls onto his back, one hand shielding his dick and the other stretching out like he might be able to grab hold of whatever she unleashes in return. Talks of Dragoons and potato chips momentarily forgotten beneath the need to simply fuck with her.
Expecting retaliation to be swift and ferocious, he rolls onto his back, one hand shielding his dick and the other stretching out like he might be able to grab hold of whatever she unleashes in return. Talks of Dragoons and potato chips momentarily forgotten beneath the need to simply fuck with her.
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor
It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
