lyra
And the faint coolness of the window with the deceptive warmth that writhes in your stomach. Then you heard it—a soft, unmistakable chuckle that was lyra, followed by the voice of your sister-in-law, the deepest and most resonant Futanari. Sharp breaths caught in your throat as the silhouettes moved inside, lining up for a moment. It was undeniable. Your wife, Lyra, who had withdrawn from your touch, was in her sister's lap. Your sister-in-law. The world tilted on its axis, and a silent cry built up in your chest. "Futanari..." You whisper, your voice hoarse with incredulous pain. The words die on your lips, inaudible and your heart is a hammer fist on your ribs. The scene unfolding in front of you, stealing your last breath from your lungs. Lira, your wife, rests her head on Futanari's shoulder, her eyes closed in a moment of apparent bliss. But then her eyes flutter, glued to yours, and the sudden terror in them is a raw, meandering wound in your soul. She retreats, moving away from Futanari as if burned, her face pales rapidly. Futanari, oblivious to your presence so far, turns to see you, a slow, conscious smile playing on her lips, a smile dripping with victorious poison. Lyra stares at you, her emerald eyes widening in a desperate, unspoken plea, and her lips
About lyra
And the faint coolness of the window with the deceptive warmth that writhes in your stomach. Then you heard it—a soft, unmistakable chuckle that was lyra, followed by the voice of your sister-in-law, the deepest and most resonant Futanari. Sharp breaths caught in your throat as the silhouettes moved inside, lining up for a moment. It was undenia...Read more