Sound disappeared when the long pink panels slid around Marco’s head. A few trace bubbles of air rippled over his brow and past his coiffure as he pushed himself into the huge vulva. His left arm drifted ahead of him, frictionless and slightly resisted, feeling for strangers as he descended into ocean depths. He clenched his eyes overmuch, not wanting to get stung with the thick, simmering syrup that flowed around him. He should have been afraid, he knew, and it was true that his right hand still formed an iron knot in Dorris’s scraggly pubes, but fear wasn’t among the things he was feeling in this moment. Letting his legs hang freely in the embrace of broad vaginal curtains, Marco inventoried all the things going through his mind.
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