is this the end of all the endings?
Flora snickers, shooting Kai a playful, imploring look from where she’s half-lounging in the mud. "Oh really? You think you’ll be on your knees in front of me that often when mine start to sag that much?" Her grin is quicksilver bright, but the warmth that rushes up through her at his words isn’t playful at all. For all the absurdity of the moment—the mud, the humidity, the wild laughter—it hits her right in the chest that he’s already talking about decades from now like it’s a given. Like forever is just another Tuesday; like loving her that long is inevitable. It steals her breath for a second, the sweetness of it hidden behind a smirk.
She watches him sculpt with one brow raised, chin tilted like a particularly discerning art critic. "Hmmmm," she hums, appraising the proud lean of her new anatomy before wrinkling her nose and smoothing down an especially aggressive vein with delicate precision.
When he straddles her, she half-expects him to crush his masterpiece, but he hovers—committed to the bit—miming his own exaggerated bliss, which only sends her into another fit of delighted laughter. "Oh yeah, you like that?" she manages between giggles, reaching up to grope at what’s left of his sagging mud-tit before leaning back again, bracing on her elbows. Her gaze drifts up to him through her lashes, wide open and full of unguarded affection, her grin softening into something that feels like sunlight made tangible.
"Sure, why not?" she says flirtatiously, voice low and lilting. "As long as it’s not the kind of mud that gets cold or hardens into a shell, I bet it’d feel as good going on as it does coming off." Whether he missed the quiet curiosity tucked into her words or just chose to dance past it, she lets it go easily., especially when he leans down, pressing his chest to hers, smearing what’s left of his muddy art across them both.
"Mmmmm," she hums against him, arching her back with a grin. "I guess mine could be bigger," she says of her own breasts, thrusting playfully up against him as if to imprint his creation onto herself and thus grow a cup size purely by muddy osmosis. When he pops back up, Flora grins fiendishly, aqua eyes glinting with mischief. "Yep!" she answers with glee. "And I might even get fancy and do some nail art—little dragons, gummy worms, maybe even some great big, girthy—" She cuts herself off mid-sentence, thrusting her mud-cock against him with a cackle. "—dicks!"
She watches him sculpt with one brow raised, chin tilted like a particularly discerning art critic. "Hmmmm," she hums, appraising the proud lean of her new anatomy before wrinkling her nose and smoothing down an especially aggressive vein with delicate precision.
When he straddles her, she half-expects him to crush his masterpiece, but he hovers—committed to the bit—miming his own exaggerated bliss, which only sends her into another fit of delighted laughter. "Oh yeah, you like that?" she manages between giggles, reaching up to grope at what’s left of his sagging mud-tit before leaning back again, bracing on her elbows. Her gaze drifts up to him through her lashes, wide open and full of unguarded affection, her grin softening into something that feels like sunlight made tangible.
"Sure, why not?" she says flirtatiously, voice low and lilting. "As long as it’s not the kind of mud that gets cold or hardens into a shell, I bet it’d feel as good going on as it does coming off." Whether he missed the quiet curiosity tucked into her words or just chose to dance past it, she lets it go easily., especially when he leans down, pressing his chest to hers, smearing what’s left of his muddy art across them both.
"Mmmmm," she hums against him, arching her back with a grin. "I guess mine could be bigger," she says of her own breasts, thrusting playfully up against him as if to imprint his creation onto herself and thus grow a cup size purely by muddy osmosis. When he pops back up, Flora grins fiendishly, aqua eyes glinting with mischief. "Yep!" she answers with glee. "And I might even get fancy and do some nail art—little dragons, gummy worms, maybe even some great big, girthy—" She cuts herself off mid-sentence, thrusting her mud-cock against him with a cackle. "—dicks!"
my broken bones are mending
