The Spanish Stallion: Episode 3

Evilangel

Kitana Lure, Silvia Dellai, Eveline Dellai, Maximo Garcia Pic(s)

The sun beat down upon the rolling meadow, its golden heat a palpable weight upon the bare skin of the women who lay scattered across the grass like a garden of willing blossoms. A low, collective hum of anticipation vibrated through the air, a sound composed of soft sighs and the rustle of limbs shifting agat the earth. He moved among them not as a conqueror but as a force of nature, his shadow falling over one then another, each arching to meet his gaze with eyes clouded by desire. The scent of crushed clover and warm, salty skin mingled into an intoxicating perfume that clung to the humid breeze. His calloused hands, knowing and deliberate, traced paths of fire along yielding thighs and the delicate curves of spines, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. Whispers turned into breathless moans that were swallowed by the vastness of the sky, each sound a private testament to the pleasure he bestowed. The slick heat of mouths and the press of eager bodies created a rhythm as old as the land itself, a primal dance of giving and taking. He was the center of their universe, a dark-haired god whose every touch promised a small, shuddering death and a glorious rebirth. In that field, time itself seemed to suspend, holding them all in a perfect, aching moment of shared, unbridled ecstasy.