Worship Richard cock together

Harry's words were a key turning in a lock the ex-wife thought she'd thrown away. A shudder ran through the older woman's body. For a split second, the cold, calculating facade crumbled, replaced by a raw, painful memory of wanting. Of needing. Of worshipping.

Slowly, hesitantly, the ex-wife's movements changed. They became less about technical skill and more about a desperate, aching need. She took Richard deeper, a soft, ragged moan escaping her lips. It was a sound of surrender.

Richard's breath hitched. This was it. This was what he'd been waiting for.

Harry pressed her body against the ex-wife's back, a silent, supportive presence. She moved with the older woman, their bodies in sync. She whispered encouragement, her words a mix of praise and provocation.

"That's it," Harry murmured. "Show him. Show him what he's been missing."

The scene was a masterpiece of emotional manipulation. The ex-wife, on her knees, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her, pleasuring the man she'd tried to destroy. Harry, the orchestrator, the catalyst, her presence a constant reminder of the younger, more desirable woman who had taken her place.

Richard was no longer just a man getting a blowjob. He was a king, two queens vying for his attention, one a ghost of the past, the other a vision of the future. He was the center of their universe, the object of their desperate, conflicting desires.

The ex-wife looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hatred and longing. Harry looked up at him too, her eyes filled with a cool, calculating amusement.

He was a god. And he was about to receive his offerings.

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