The Eyes of the Night #04

Across the sidewalk, an equally striking sight met the Minotaur Boros's gaze. A man of robust appearance was kneeling on the uneven sidewalk, his body struggling against the ordeal he had been through.

His belly, grotesquely distended, seemed on the verge of exploding. The skin, stretched to the limit, shone under the glare of the lights, revealing a tangle of bluish veins that ran across its reddened surface. Every movement, every quiver of his muscles seemed to aggravate the tension, as if his body was carrying a weight too heavy to contain.

The moans that escaped from his throat were muffled, almost guttural. Every now and then, a spasm ran through his abdomen, hastening the release of the seed contained in his abdomen and flowing slowly between his thighs to the pavement below, where it mingled with the filth of the alley.

His hairy torso, struck by his own ragged breathing, rose and fell irregularly. Sweat ran in long streaks, following the contours of his bulging muscles, clinging to the remains of his torn clothes. His jeans, another witness to the savagery of the moment, hung miserably on his hips, the back, completely ravaged, leaving a gaping access to his intimacy, still marked by the brutal frolics that had left him in this state.

Every attempt to straighten up seemed futile. His hands shook as they sought support on the pillar near him, but he kept falling forward, the weight in his belly keeping him on his knees, a prisoner of his own body.

When he tried to move, his insides seemed to rumble in protest, like a storm trapped in his swollen abdomen. The effort to evacuate all that hot seed was monumental, each contraction tearing a new groan from him as a trickle of that viscous liquid slowly, but insufficiently, escaped from him.

--------------------
This work will be available in the February package (Level 2/3/4) at the end of February.