From a reproductive perspective, these two guys have been at it for way too long. Fragile humans are held, pressed, and contorted into various shapes by elves; her expression is also strange, like she's crying yet experiencing some indescribable pleasure. Tears cling to her curled eyelashes, refusing to fall, irritating the devil's heart.
The thick, dagger-like black phallus thrusts into the fresh, vibrant red orifice, emitting a gurgling sound. Crystal-clear liquid mixed with a milky hue soaks the elf's shaft, even trickling down along the firm thighs.
"Ah... slower..."
The cry of the human mage, like feathers dipped in water, repeatedly brushes against Saint Sebastian's ear. He furrows his brow, scratching his ear tips unhappily, his red pupils shining in the darkness.
"Don't! Don't thrust there... just arrived... if you continue to thrust... Ahhh!"
With one leg bent, Margaret, lying by the pond, reaches climax uncontrollably once again.