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... his lips as he felt the weight of all that he had done.

He was not in a bed, but on a vast pile of soft, naked bodies. The scent was overwhelming, a heady, intoxicating mixture of his own virile seed, the sweet nectar of feminine satisfaction, and the clean scent of the morning grass.

He was surrounded. Hundreds of witches lay in a tangled, sleeping heap around him, their limbs intertwined, their bodies pressed against his in a shared, post-coital slumber.

Some had their ...

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