He sucked on them for a moment before she removed them. Unbelievably, his cock was getting hard, again.“He likes it,” Tara called from somewhere n...earby. “His boner is growing.”“You like fucking dead girls?” Tia whispered into Mac’s ear as she kissed his cheek and throat. “It’s no secret, now. You broadcast it all over the place – not across the lake – the new shields prevented that. But we know your secret fantasy.”“Yeah,” Tara replied, kneeling down next to Mac’s face. “You’re really lucky to. Oh, yes: The phrase "100 Bards' lives." That's how we reckon time past. A Bard's life is about 100 years. I'm The Grahhll, a Bard. I tell tales and sing songs of times past remembering. To be truthful, there are hundreds of bards among the citizens. But I am 'The' Bard. I am not being boastful, merely as honest as I can be. My voice is pure. Those who hear my song will always remember it.How can I explain this to you readers? There were great singers and story tellers in Earth's history: In the. I set the plate beneath the junction of my wife’s and Gunther’s loins. Then I took a handheld camera, one linked to the audience feed, and turned it on. Lifting Gunther’s tail—the scent of their mutual arousal was almost appalling—I focused on his swollen knot up in my quivering wife. For whatever reason, the audience wanted proof: Yes indeed, this crazy human woman had happily let herself be mounted, fucked, and filled with dog cum. It was all real.Once I guessed the audience was satisfied, I. But right then it had been no solution.I can’t honestly blame them for being irresponsible and that their need for each other had won them over. Without thinking about it any more his big bare penis had entered her. They had both moaned loudly – my wife told me later it had been the best feeling ever. She had said it had felt so completely right and natural that it had been almost impossible to resist. They had made love maybe a minute completely in ecstasy and almost losing the sense of time.