feeling. “You did well.” Belial fell back onto the pillows, the arm holding the wine bottle propped on one knee. He tipped the bottle back and this time, a milky substance—the cum that had dribbled into the bottle—slipped through the glass, past the mouth hole of his mask, and down his throat. A sated sigh fell from his lips—like he’d drunk a refreshing glass of lemonade and not my cum.
