Book Three: Chapter 92

“What are you trying to do?” Mike asked.

“Tink... saw... picture,” she declared. “Picture on... magic screen.”

Oh god. What had she found on his computer? Suddenly, he felt a slight shift inside of Tink, a small bump along the back of her vagina. Tink held still, moving carefully now, centering Mike’s dick on that spot.

“Tink,” Mike whispered. “That isn’t going to fit there.”

“Fairy oil,” she hissed, pushing herself down on him. It should have been impossible, but Mike’s entire life was the impossible. Groaning in delight, he felt the tiny ring of Tink’s uterus squeeze along the head of his cock, his dick pushing through an opening it had no business fitting through. Gasping for air, Tink sat up, swiveling her hips from side to side, working Mike in even deeper.

“Holy shit,” Mike whispered. Tink’s clits were engorged to an unusual size now, pressing against his dick like a pair of fingers.

“Tink make fit. Tink make fit,” she groaned, over and over