I want to feel you take control!” she groaned, her moans growing louder with each delicious sensation. “Please, my friend needs immediate attention. His white hands cupped her soft breasts, pushing them together. And in a crescendo of pleasure, they both reach the pinnacle of their release, a symphony of shared ecstasy enveloping them. “Submit to my command, Geralt,” she commanded, her voice carrying an intoxicating authority. She lost herself in the maelstrom of their shared passion. The sensation was both delicate and electrifying, sending shivers of pleasure cascading through her. reaching, exploring. She suggested that maybe, just maybe, the seed of a Witcher—a being whose body had been altered by chaos—could hold the key to her fertility. The sight of her rear end consuming him inch by inch, seemingly yearning for more, excites him further, igniting a need to possess every inch of her. Her body responds to each thrust, every touch with uncontrollable spasms, urging her towards that ultimate peak of pleasure. “Oh fuck Yennifer! Geralt watches her, his instincts urging him to intervene, but he knows the fire that burns within her cannot be easily extinguished.
