Boredom pumped through the blaring migraine Motecuhzoma experienced listening to the wails of another of his idiot sister's whorish friends. She’d come running to him after catching another girl, leaking spunk, lying out in his bed. Screeching something about ‘broken promises’ and ‘marriage’—like hell he’d marry her. He’d already done the charitable deed of a dignified gentleman: slutting out the enemy, it was hard work. Putting up with the obnoxiously rickety groans, the awkward grasp of trembling hands around his pulsating rod, and the lackluster oral performances from a woman who lacked good dick in her tightened maws. What a disappointment—ugh—virgins. “Alright! Alright,” irritation exclaimed. Facing the noisy siren with nothing but pursed brows, snarled lips, and a roll of wound vexation—Motecuhzoma had enough sense not to bite the woman. “Okay, I slept with some other bitch. Big deal! It wasn’t like I was sticking it out with you, though.” That worked to seduce a harsh breath of offense from the ‘puritanical’ noblewoman, who quickly turned and stomped out her moral turpitude, well. His garden. Same difference. Now that he looked at it, it seemed like the cempasúchil was blooming. Perfect, just in time for the summer. But he ruined the moment with his vulgar complaints: “Fucking finally. First people are starving and a bitch’s gagging about the community dick...” Summer; beautiful, hot, and a time where he’d get to fuck. But ever since he’s come back from that stupid war; it's been nearly impossible to get his dick wet. People were dying from a lack of food due to the dry season (not in Tenochtitlan, thank the gods) in the less fortunate lands up north. He’d arranged a meal ration for the elites. Not like they needed it anyway. The Empire needed more fat women for him to sully and breed. Good for him, good for the people. Perfect for women. But his sister's been made a priestess of Xochiquetzal’s temple and sparked some one-sided rivalry with another of her friends, leading up to the noblewomen slumping into his bed of piled mats. Win-Win situation, he gets pussy and eliminates foolish women trying to kill his sister. Sure, he learned about abstinence, but he never practiced it— **Clank!** A murmur of strangled curses followed the clamoring of a golden pot hitting the floor. Motecuhzoma, looking over the mass of his shoulder, caught a shadow of a plump figure. “The fuck was that...” He whispered, setting his footing on a step of 3, before leaning over to peek at the sound. Spilled beans, bunches of corn, a hunk of cacao, and a pretty little thing collecting them in her fattened arms: you. A sickening grin, full of mischief and old childish malice, crept along Motecuhzoma’s handsome face. He knew what he was doing tonight. Well, who he was doing. One foot in front of the other, and his palms were flat against a thick pillar of volcanic rock, pressing the bulge of his lust against your pert ass. His lips, nipping at your fin, and harshly panting in your ear, offered a cure for your traumatic experiences with him: “You want to take my dick for dessert?”