Nathan held his breath, his hands moving as if molding wet clay.
He squeezed, caressed, spreading the foam that made those caramel cheeks even more divine.
Livia’s butt in front of him glistened—soapy water trickled slowly down the twin curves, highlighting just how mesmerizing the backside of a rabbit fighter could be.
His palm traced the surface—pressing, circling, slapping gently—then caressing again, as if Livia’s body was an instrument, and he a perverted priest playing a cello with solemn lust.
With two fingers, he aimed to explore the caramel’s most sensitive zone, parting the delicious folds that looked like molten chocolate—the gate where warm piss once exited.
The tip of his finger traced the thin valley, and as if whispered to by a fertility spirit, the moist surface pulsed softly in response.
Nathan stroked it slowly—circling, pressing, then dragging inward, as though searching for a secret point hidden beneath sweet skin and the scent of river water.
Livia jolted slightly, her hips writhing, and that tiny hole flushed red—wet, trembling, ready for more.
"Hhhnnn..." Livia let out a soft groan, her head bowed, her ass tensed, then pushed back, wordlessly begging, through the curve of her trembling spine.
"Y-you’re cleaning it weirdly... ahhhmm... slow... ahhhnn... I feel strange..."
Livia whimpered, her elbows bending back toward her waist like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time.
Meanwhile, from the front—Domina remained kneeling. She turned around, her eyes locking on Nathan’s cock. Nathan’s cock stood still, because every nerve in his body was rerouted to the sacred act of fingering Livia’s warm folds.
His fingers stayed buried in Livia, but his gaze slowly drifted to the front—where a different temptation waited.
"Domina..." Nathan whispered, almost like a moan.
But the woman only smiled—then leaned in and nuzzled, as if trying to prove that playing with Nathan’s cock was her idea of fun.
"Hey... don’t forget about me..." she said, staring sweetly at the tip.
Domina took a slow breath, then smiled at Nathan.
"I’m not done yet... Clean me," she said softly, like a goddess freshly awakened from a long slumber.
Nathan froze for a moment. His gaze was still half-trapped between Livia’s caramel curves. But Domina’s request couldn’t be ignored.
"Turn around again," Nathan said hoarsely, like a man starving for the thrill of friction.
But Domina shook her head slowly. "My head is clean enough," she answered with a calm smile. "Other parts... not yet."
Domina then rose from her seated position, kneeling in the river. Water gently flowed over her skin. Her white hair trailed down her back. And right in front of Nathan a pair of large, chocolate-colored breasts, wet, slick, and trembling slightly with each breath.
"I want you to clean these..." Domina said quietly, offering her breasts to Nathan. Not with force. But with serene grace—like a citizen begging the government for a minimum wage raise.
Nathan gripped the last Sapoa leaf by his side. His hands trembled.
"Alright," he whispered. "The ritual begins again..."
Nathan slowly poured the Sapoa sap onto Domina’s chest. The sap flowed like cream over perfectly roasted meat.
Domina leaned forward slightly, breath warming her own skin, creating a thin mist on her chocolate-toned flesh. She cupped her breasts, pressing them together gently, as if preparing a resting place for a foreign deity.
Nathan stepped forward. Then again.
"Are you sure this is the part that needs cleaning?" he asked, his voice deep and falsely hesitant.
Domina looked up from behind her damp bangs. "Absolutely," she replied, squeezing her soft mounds, pushing them forward like sacred offerings.
Nathan sighed. "Then let’s begin..."
He slowly guided himself between the mounds.
Warm. Soft. And too slippery to be anything but divine.
"Ahhh..." Nathan hissed, his body trembling slightly.
Domina just smiled, pressing her breasts from both sides, creating a snug, sacred pressure.
Nathan began to move—slow, deliberate strokes—letting himself glide between her slippery breast, warm and scented like river soap.
Pinkish foam from the Sapoa sap spread between the valley, lubricating each motion.
"This... might be the hardest part to clean..." Nathan muttered, looking down at himself, buried deep between Domina’s glistening gifts.
Domina let out a soft chuckle.
"Then clean it... clean it thoroughly," said the rabbit fighter—her soul still too pure to grasp the weight of sin.
Nathan kept moving, his rhythm steady—his focus locked on the sacred act.
But somewhere along the way, his fingers forgot to behave.
Livia, still facing the river, blinked.
Something rippled through her body.
’That feeling again... ahhmmmmm... like threads... pulling... eummhh...’
Her thoughts spun in silence, trying to make sense of the strange sensation spreading across her caramel gate.
Nathan’s hips slowed for a moment.
But the ritual wasn’t over.
He raised his left hand—still slick with sacred foam—and gently wrapped it around his shaft as if holding a holy brush from an ancient temple.
With a deep inhale, like a monk about to paint a celestial mural,
he guided his length across Domina’s chest.
Like an artist trying to capture the beauty of a mountain before him.
Then, suddenly his movements started turning rough, like a painter growing nervous—afraid his art would lose to the precision of AI.
His strokes became erratic, slightly stiff, like someone who had protested AI one too many times, rather than adapt and improve she/himself.
Domina let out a soft breath,
her hands still pressing her cleavage from both sides, but now her head tilted,
her eyes watching Nathan’s intensely focused face.
"You look troubled... does it hurt?" she asked, her voice heavy and soft.
Nathan didn’t answer right away.
His gaze was fixed on the Sapoa sap melting over her brown skin,
coating every contour, blending into foam and warmth.
The liquid glistened under the sun,leaving strange trails across Domina’s chest—like ink on a canvas of expensive abstract art, the kind no one understands but gets defended by those pretending to know art, when in truth, the painting was just a money laundering tool with a pretentious backstory.
While Nathan and Domina were caught in their intimate moment, his fingers were still moving across the private field of the other rabbit fighter.
Livia bit her lower lip.
Her body began to tremble.
The muscles in her thighs tightened like a fully drawn bow.
Her toes clenched against the riverbed—
and in the next second, she arched backward.
Her voice cracked, like scalding water hitting bare skin.
Her strength vanished.
With a soft moan, Livia collapsed into the river’s embrace,
like a rabbit doll that had just run out of battery.
Her eyes went blank... but her mouth was still half-open,
lingering in the warmth of climax.
Domina raised one eyebrow as she looked at him.
"What happened to her?" she asked, without much real concern.
Livia opened her eyes, her breathing still shaky.
"That... down there... when he cleaned it..."
"It felt... really good..."
Domina went silent for a moment.
A smile too calm to be called innocent.
"I see," she muttered.
Nathan didn’t even have time to respond.
Domina was already moving.
Her hands pressed against the ground, pushing her body backward.
Her spine curved. Her head touched the riverbed...
and without hesitation, she entered a backbend.
Her thighs spread wide.
Water flowed along her smooth brown skin.
Her secret hole faced the sky—
like a spring of sin just opened for worship.
Her gaze pierced through Nathan’s soul.
Her lips formed the last sacred words of the day: