[It's certainly filling. Tryse's hips work, rocking desperately against the tentacles, and she only answers Evangeline with whimpers and moans as she feels it rubbing so strangely inside her. One hand drifts down to her pelvis, about where she imagines it is, and presses down. She's wet enough that this isn't a challenge, and those noises aren't doing her dignity any good.]
no subject
Fffffuck me...!