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Not that it mattered. Even with Clark finished, Karen’s body was absolutely dripping with cum. Thick masses of it spread out on her chest, formed pools in her stomach, marked the hairs of her pubic thatch.

To Karen, it seemed like a waste of one of the tastiest delicacies she’d ever encountered; she could only hope that the spectacle properly ‘intrigued’ Clark. But why hadn’t Linda drunk it instead of milking it out all over Karen?

Karen would never understand the woman, alternate universe doppelganger or not.

“What do you mean no more?” Linda asked playfully, her eyes wild as she looked up at Clark.

She smiled open-mouthed, like she was still offering her lips to be used by Clark, should he want to. Or maybe challenging him to fuck her face. But as impressive as Clark’s prick was, even in its flaccid state, he couldn’t fuck a girl with it.

“I see plenty more,” Linda continued, kneeling between Karen’s outstretched legs. “Just look at all you painted on Karen! Two coats!”

Karen flinched. She didn’t think of herself as particularly prudish—it was more like she thought Linda was a good girl, even now. And sweet, innocent Linda had her sights set on licking Clark’s semen right off another woman’s body.

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