Cumandá’s eyes bulged and tears welled while her corded cervical muscles worked overtime to handle Alejandro’s seemingly endless spate. He opened his eyes, looked down and grinned to see his semen seep from her lips as he overloaded her. When he felt his final burst spit from his dick, he relaxed his contorted abs and released her from his control. She muttered muffled little noises and shivered, then pulled back her aching neck from his softening, but still turgid tuber.
Alejandro crutched his hands under his trembling sister’s armpits and hauled her to her feet. As he pulled up her evening dress’s top and squeezed her tits back into place behind the satin-lined underwired cups, he praised, “Eso fue muy bueno, mijita… I am proud of you. Did your light-headedness clear up? If not, there is another treatment we can try later…”
Cumandá nodded and clung to Alejandro’s biceps as she continued to lean on him for support. Not knowing what else she could or should say, she answered, “Si. Me siento mejor… but, I am a little tired. Will you walk me back to our table, ‘Jandro?”
As the sated siblings left the terrace corner, they failed to see the great sloth that peered at them through the palm fronds. Neither did they hear his low baritone groaning grunts. When the mysterious masquerader finished jacking off, he parked his cock back in his fur suit then sauntered by different route back to the bar for another corn beer. By morning all traces of his cumshots into the planter would be invisibly absorbed in the soil.