His mistress is acting strangely. Anal sex I don’t need to show a knot-shot. oh, no, it’s not enough. The dog gallops after her, but she hears him, grabs for another rock, stumbles and faceplants. She shrieks, tells him to go away, go away, go go get away from me, what did you do, what did you make me do. Stronger than arousal. No way. Off it comes, tossed away. Her huge breasts—no, really, they’re teats, now—hang heavy and free. I imagine what she’s thinking, while she can still think. Pussy juice is swamping her shorts. It’s a disappointment, but the audience will just have to accept that they won’t get the knot-shot. And that would be a shame, because I’ve been working on this for about three months. Damn. The market, the market. Now she’s gone, running for safety and sanity. She gets up and tries to wipe sweat and tears away, but all that gets her is a fresh layer of mud around her eyes. I’m so excited I can barely think about what to do next.
