King Cobra Claims His Holes

In an unmarked room, a throne awaits, adorned with a plush, leather seat and armrests slick with sweat. King Cobra, his cock a throbbing scepter, takes his seat, ready to rule over his domains. The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sounds of anticipation. No names, no faces, just a canvas of flesh ready to be claimed. The king's hands, strong and confident, grip the hips before him, guiding them down onto his length. The room echoes with the symphony of flesh meeting flesh, a testament to the king's reign. His subjects cry out, their bodies writhing in pleasure as they surrender to their king, their god, their everything.

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