Jan. Week 3: Friday(Condom)-Leah orgasms...again...and again...(Luck+10, Silence: +25)[Cowgirl only]

Leah should have been spent. Her body, wrung out by two successive orgasms, trembled with the kind of exhaustion that bordered on collapse. The shame rode her shoulders like a weighted vest, every ounce of her muscle fiber burning with the memory of what she’d just done—and was still doing, impaled on the cock of a man three times her age. She should have dismounted, told him to get it over with, let him finish and send her on her way. But something sick and essential—maybe it was spite, maybe it was pride, maybe it was the need to punish herself for every bad decision—told her to push harder. One more. She needed one more.

Mr. Bill felt it; he felt the wild tension in her hips as she started to ride again, even though her legs were jelly and her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

“God damn, girl. You got yourself some stamina!” he hooted, as if they were running a track meet instead of rutting like animals on a sticky pleather couch. “I thought you’d be tapped out by now, but here you are, takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ.”

His words should have disgusted her, but they did something else instead. They burrowed under her skin, fueling the urge to prove him right and wrong at the same time. She arched her back, forcing every inch of him inside her, milking him with rhythmic clenches of her battered cunt, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure and humiliation from herself before she left this wretched closet.

Her mind splintered into jagged fragments: the whimpering, **** girl in the porno her principal kept on file; the proper, respected teacher; the fiancée who pretended her saintly white boy at home was enough. She was all of them and none of them, an animal in heat, fucking for the sake of it, for ****, for the annihilation of her own dignity.

She moved faster, her ass slapping down against Mr. Bill’s lap with greedy, echoing thuds. Bill’s hands roamed her body hungrily, one hand squeezing her breast until the nipple peaked through her sweater, the other gripping her hips like he was afraid she’d vanish mid-thrust.

“You makin’ me proud, Miss Leah,” he rasped, sweat glistening on his dark, bald scalp. “I ain’t never seen a white girl get herself off like this. Shit, I ain’t never seen no black girl do it, neither.”

She wanted to scream at him, to **** him, to tell him exactly what he was making her feel, but all that came out were high, sharp cries as the friction built and built until her whole body was one live wire. She was close again, and so was he. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her, his balls tensing against her ass, and in a horrible, perfect moment of animal clarity, she realized she wanted him to cum. She wanted it so badly she nearly wept.

He saw the change in her face, the wild, glassy-eyed hunger.

“You chasin’ another one?” he sneered, lips curling back from his teeth. “You fuckin’ greedy, girl. That’s how I like it.” He flexed beneath her, thrusting up so hard she nearly lost her balance. “Make me fuckin cum. Show me how much you love it.”