In my lustful dreams, I occupied the hallowed role of potent stud, fertilising a hundred lush, needy wombs. Each beautiful prospect, unwittingly eager, thrown into indelible decadence by my talent. Oh, how they craved my seed, . My mesmerizing rod, a beacon for copious cum-crazed vixens, throbbing with virile vigor - perfectly proportioned and skilled at annihilating opposition. I remember so crudely violating their bodies cried out for more, each woman a vessel hungering for my spirit to inhabit and call home. Sheer exhibitionism: gushing passion from within these women as I laid claim to stamped territory on this fertile ground. Oh, how they writhed in foaming readiness, their fingers burrowing frantically against their labia while sultry breaths beseeched me to delve deeper, sending waves of thundering pleasure flashing around tight vaginal tunnels. Primal instinct passing hands through generations of lustful drives pulsates. Each glistening honeypot quivered in expectant anticipation, their wetness mingled in harmonious desperation; rising and echoing screams as nature's closet door flung itself forcefully open. Inside that chamber, hidden labia clenched ephemeral joy, fragile and desperate for release - lost amidst intoxicating agony brewing at the precipice of orgasmic bliss. My tool’s- eager and ravenous - thrust and wrenched vehemently against difficult resistance. I felt it too, the unyielding primal urge to make them carry my children. As defiance shuddered violently into passionate defeat, that moment came - when ragged breaths ceased mid-scream, eyes bulging desperate for clarity above heaving chests. Resistance crumbled as swollen clitorises peeked out through the ballet recital of surrendering muscle fibers. The finale arrived: seed spilled, oceans of pheromones roiled beneath us like scenes from distant seas visited only in erotic dreams.