"... was it you? The Admiral of the Statue of Mountains."
A royal mature Viscount with hands on both hips and distorted face.
Slightly risky and thick makeup. But I'd say she's an old beauty.
He's stepping on the face of an old pilot who fell on the kick floor.
(Exactly. Do you take off your boots? Looks like manners are done.)
No heart, or the old man's face looked happy.
"There was a boring edge."
From a crooked face, a mature Viscount who gives words to throw away.
Husky voices make a man of himself.
Though he was wearing the pilot's uniform, his underwear was round with his left ankle.
Wet and glowing clothes and bodies everywhere will be the remnants of the battle.
(My gaze now, are you all right?)
I stare back at it with the same intensity as I did earlier, but there's nothing like holding my abdomen down and collapsing.
(Doesn't seem like it's always active)
I feel a little relieved.
It would be just like my demon eye. It needs to be activated consciously.
(Passive sonar with constant activation for gaze. If you have such a thing, you can live your daily life)
There must be no time to rest.
I'm convinced, I'll change my mind. The body of the mature Viscount must be returned to the constant.
Come, and point to the bed with your chin.
"... Hmm. I'm not gonna lose this time."
Big amber fountain. Would you have remembered that ugliness, squeezing your teeth as tight as it sounds?
And we stood on each other's knees, facing each other on the bed.
"Ha, that posture again"
The mature Viscount shows her frightened face.
Because I turned my head to the side of my leg while I overthrew the mature Viscount.
Positively, they have each other's faces in front of each other's hips. Exactly the same as the divine match.
I slam my tight skirt up silently and push my edamame sheath on both sides with my fingers.
And the beans exposed to him in the air were carefully contained in his mouth.
"Shit."
I guess I was pissed off even though I didn't hear back. Mature woman punches one tongue.
Beans covered in robust defensive skin membranes don't seem to have any effect on my one lick or anything.
Mature women talk about my banana, too.
A mellow feeling enveloped me.
(As good as ever. I know all about a guy.)
He skilfully glances through the groove behind him and enters the corner of the corner.
But I can't even just enjoy it.
I activate the Devil's Eye and see the mature woman's color temperature and light circulation.
And to the bean dish for a long time, I started waving my tongue.
(Looks like edamame, but actually shelled walnuts)
Beans in this state, I call them elf beans.
Surprised at first, but no upset. "Elf's shop, Floy. Nice elf welcomes you 'and I've been handling it so badly that I don't like it.
Same thing to do.
Roll carefully and gently at the tip of the tongue so as to simmer carefully over low heat.
This walnut is an invisible, thin-skinned laminate made hard by irritation.
You can peel and go by simmering and softening.
(one first)
Where the fire has softened down the street, peel one piece of invisible thin skin. Shut your mouth, it feels like a little sucking.
(another one)
One more while boiling the beans up. Peel away carefully, but without rest.
Around stripping twenty sheets, the mature Viscount's condition changed.
(Less defensive than an elf woman)
Every time I peel the puree and skin, I have a reaction.
When I moaned with the banana in my mouth, I felt comfortable with the groaning of my throat.
My hips twirl wide to my left and right, but I hold them tight and keep my mouth off the beans.
Pluri, Pluri.
Keep peeling even.
Every time the mature Viscount moves her hips to shake them off. But if you do that, it will only increase the irritation of the sucked beans.
Then this time, he pinches my head with his thighs and starts rubbing it against the chops.
Let go.
Both ears rubbed with a soggy thigh. But I combine my spinning hands to the back of my butt and stick around.
The mature Viscount, who understood that she could not be stripped, has now stepped up my offense against bananas.
(Ugh, feels good)
The shackles I imposed on myself, 'uncomfortable', lower my limits.
The feeling of a long, shiny tongue and the skillful use of the back of the throat. Even the Wangdu whorehouse is on a difficult level.
(The Husky Voice is caused by excessive throat use)
It is such a technology that I suspect so.
At last, the last one was stripped after a heat battle that pushed each other's limits.
(All right)
I keep my mouth shut, taking care not to irritate.
And I look at that proudly trembling figure with satisfaction.
(While I'm at it, my arm hasn't fallen)
Smooth beans in front of you.
It's refreshed by my tongue, regaining my sensitivity as a girl.
If you breathe, you'll feel the air flow.
If you blame this place, the mature Viscount must be in a straight line to the limit area.
(But not now)
All I win is a defeat builds up in the heart of the mature Viscount.
Three consecutive defeats to the same opponent, including a battlefield with life and death.
It is not mentally preferable.
(knocking her down are the old pilots)
He was ridiculed and kicked while attempting defeat rape as he sought.
As it is, I am so sorry.
And the mature Viscount would have noticed if they had carried her to the top.
That the walnut is already broken and is no longer a doll.
(I've already done what I have to do. You can reward yourself, right?
In the mouth of the mature Viscount, the banana is on the verge of melting. Behind my back, my sweet pain was increasing.
Nothing. I'm not competing for a win or a loss. The need to endure should be nowhere.
I push my hips forward and deep into the back of the mature Viscount's throat.
And he held the hips of the mature Viscount in front of him even tighter.
(Reward...... awesome!
I'm comfortable, pouring into the mature Viscount's throat.
(Whoa, hey, this)
So the mature Viscount's, high skill burst.
Sucked up to the last drop, often tranced by its throat-through finish.
"I won."
After swallowing and coughing several times, the mature woman rises as she wipes the back of her hand around her mouth.
Sweaty on his forehead, his cheeks were red tide, yet shining with the joy of fulfilling his revenge.
"... here we go"
I surrender honestly, looking up at a mature woman. More than half of them had lost their hips.
An earlier pour into the back of the throat.
Mature women, rather than reluctant, came with a powerful vacuum.
A fierce suction, perfectly matched to the timing of my release.
Exquisite. So much so that it goes out to the two balls.
"That gaze, it feels good"
The winning mature Viscount is proud to win as she puts her left hand against her lower abdomen.
(What do you mean?
In response to that word, I stared strongly at the mature Viscount.
I was obsessed with tasting tongue moves, but the details of my ability to perceive gaze are important.
"What? Are you sick?"
The mature Viscount shook her bickle and abdomen in my gaze and immediately afterwards took her left hand away from her lower abdomen.
(... yeah)
There's no certainty, but it probably is.
By placing your left hand on your lower abdomen, your ability to sense your gaze is activated.
There's nothing more we can do here and now.
Not always activated. The activation key shall be placed on the lower abdomen.
In the meantime, it's a huge gain just because you can guess.
When I get out of bed, I wear my pants. And I walked out to the door.
(Hmm?)
So, I see eye to eye with two old pilots. Somehow in the corner of the room, sitting in the front seat.
You must have been watching the battle against the mature Viscount here.
And there was a slight but respectful light in my eyes looking up at me.
(To mature Viscount opponents, I guess because they fought well)
I feel that way.
(That's right. Let them know that the elf curse is already broken.)
I approach the two old pilots and whisper.
(She is no longer wearing armor. It works now)
The beans in the center of the lower body will pick up any irritation added to the lower body.
Set aside for a moment, the two looked at each other.
He understood what I was going to say, and he nodded. And the next moment, I stood up for momentum.
"What? You want to do it again? I don't care how many times you come, you won't be dealing with me."
Mature women drunk on victory don't seem to notice the modulation of their bodies.
(Well, I wonder what will happen)
I crawl all the way out of the hole under the door to the hallway, grinning.
The old pilots attacked the mature women at the same time.
"Uh-oh!
Shortly after I went out into the hallway, I could hear a mature woman screaming from inside the room.
It's not like earlier, it's a sweet husky voice.
Cute, faint voice. Very appealing.
"What the hell! That's crazy. There's no way I'm gonna react to you guys!
You flirt with someone you thought was understated, I guess that's humiliating. Sounds repentant.
Then I heard the old pilots hang up: 'Egh, Eh, Eh'.
What is that voice?
Peeping through the hole, he pinches it from front to back and blames it up.
A movement with breath, a sign that is simple but likely to last endlessly. It's like farming.
You'll be glad to hear a reaction from the mature Viscount, the faces of the old pilots shine in the joy of labor.
(She's thrilled too)
At field work, men who were roughly forged up.
The sharpness may be dull, but the strength and endurance can be overwhelming.
The pinched mature Viscount trembles over and over, but the old pilots don't stop. It suppresses and continues to shake the resistance of the mature Viscount with weight and muscle strength.
(Good luck with both)
The groans of the old pilot and the faint sweet screams of the mature Viscount never stop. Her, spasmodic abs, as if they had been electrocuted, could also be seen from outside the door.
The minister rushes to me.
"What the hell did they do?
Pretty surprised.
I answered with one eye closed.
"I just took her shell off a little bit."
A minister who doesn't know what it means, and, uh, feels like.
Lightning, for some reason, is nodding his arms together.
(Now, until the old pilots are satisfied, even lightning and knight rigging)
Sit next to me and shake the story.
Lightning had something to ask and talk about, and we were thrilled.
(…… but long)
For quite some time, we talked, but yet, the voices of the old pilot and the mature Viscount continue to sound down the hall.
By the way, my aunt was nodding with her ears blocked with both hands.
Couldn't seem to bear the constant cry of the mature Viscount.
(Husband tonight, that's tough)
According to the Minister, she is married to the gardener of the hall.
Undoubtedly, my aunt, the fire is lit. Most of the time it won't go away.
(What the hell is going on?
I approach the door, open the lid and peek inside.
What I saw was an old pilot twisting up the mature Viscount's hands and poking them from behind.
The mature Viscount's posture is like a bird with wings spread out.
The other old pilot is sticking his groin in that bird's mouth and forcing him to clean it.
(Alas)
The old pilots were no longer the park country gentlemen I knew.
I don't know what to say, it's like a dog in a period of estrus.
His tongue draped from his wide open mouth, and his hips swung violently as he scattered whoever he was.
There is also no cakera of reason left on its face, and it is disappointed by the rounding of beasts.
(Still going?)
He's the old pilot I was letting you clean, but the cleaning brought him back to life.
Now put your body directly under the mature Viscount and start blaming it on the sandwich from up and down.
(... these old pilots are far more stunning generals than I am)
The old pilot who was in charge of the back in the sandwich finished and let him clean it, but this one came back to life.
Now he wants to change positions, with an old pilot poking up from the bottom and intimidation.
(What persistence)
I hear there are no whorehouses in the northern countries.
I guess the mature Viscount is like a drop of water dripping in the sun.
We have to get to where we're going, we have to stop.
(This is defeat rape)
Routine work that takes no account of the will of the mature Viscount and is repeated until the desires of the men have subsided.
With what thoughts, did the mature Viscount demand this?
Did you want to punish yourself, as Lightning put it?
I don't know.
All I know is that the beans of the mature Viscount are completely refreshed.
To parable, it's close to a situation where a girl who doesn't know a man was suddenly dragged into the bush by a pair of middle-aged old men.
(Should I stop? But it's recognized as a right.
I worry as I peek through the square hole.
At that time, changes were seen in the condition of the mature Viscount.
(Hmm?)
I tremble heavily with chatter.
And the next moment, I glanced at him as big as a shrimp.
At the same time, the familiar water sounds flashy.
After a beat late, the old pilots who understood the situation came by surprise.
(... have you done it?)
It was reproduced at the end of the divine match when the amber fountain was served in the guest seat.
Water droplets are also hitting the other side of my peeking door hard.
Hi. The mature Viscount seems to have that habit.
The water sounds are still going on.
Eventually, it stained out from the foot of the door into the hallway.
I leave the door and snort alone.
(Unlike a man, you can't stop him)
When I found out about it, I was surprised at the difference in the human body.
The minister, who has noticed the noise, is shaking his aunt's back. I think it means we have to clean it quickly.
But my aunt has no idea because she has her eyes closed and her ears blocked.
Exactly. Lightning also took a seat and moved to serve as a tidy up.
(Soon, let's head back to Wangdu)
I think of the noise in front of me elsewhere with my hands on my chin.
(From the Empire, there is no more invasion)
Much less combat power, just retreated. Immediate re-invasion is hard to think about.
In the meantime, the restoration of the captured B-Class Knight will be over.
(If Lightning rides the B-Class Knight, there is no shortage of warfare)
Nod, after the place. I'm going to leave this place to them.
(Do you see it hanging directly from the king?)
So he decided to walk down the corridor, which became noisy.