NYE: One Night Stand-He fucks the shit out of Leah missionary (Suspicion: +5 Luck: +10)

“You’ve got such great fucking tits.” he said as he moved one hand to feel them. He groaned as he fucked her and smiled to himself as he palmed her soft breasts.

“Ugh! Fuck! You feel so fucking good! Fuck…” she quivered.

Leah began to play with her clit as the man fucked her, her body longing for another explosion of pleasure. His cock moved in and out of her as she laid back and was enveloped by the debauchery of it all.

Their bodies never left contact. Michael’s cock kept up a relentless tempo, pounding into Leah as every inch of her shook with pleasure, his hips driving her upward, impaling her again and again. Every time he bottomed out she moaned and felt her walls ripple, the loud slap of their bodies echoing off the bare walls of the unfamiliar apartment. She’d never been so loud in her life—never even considered she could sound like this—her cries and curses and unintelligible gasps ratcheting up as her inner slut rose from the haze of **** and sexual need. The rhythm of his cock, the way he used her body, the primal sense of being wanted and owned, it all drove her to another violent orgasm that crashed through her and left her clawing at Michael’s back for something, anything, to anchor her in the boiling sea of sensation.

Her mind tried weakly to wriggle free of the moment, tried to warn her about the danger of what she was doing—the cheating, the total loss of self-control—but the next orgasm stole her thoughts away, leaving only the animal urge for more. She screamed as she came for the third time, her grip bruising Michael’s shoulders as his cock pistoned in and out like a piston. She was so wet it was obscene; every thrust sent fresh honey pooling between her thighs and splashing down on the couch, surely soaking through its cheap fabric.

“Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!” Leah shrieked, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, every muscle tensed for the next wave. She’d never talked like this, never even imagined herself saying these things. Every filthy word that left her lips sent Michael into another frenzy, fucking her even harder, making the couch screech across the hardwood as they rutted like animals.

She couldn’t help but think, in some distant part of her mind, that this was everything she’d never let herself do with Jonathan. He was sweet, but safe, always careful, never once taking her like she was something he needed. Michael used her, and she wanted to be used—needed it so badly the guilt nearly made her dry up, but then he drove into her just right and she howled, the guilt swept away by another tidal wave of pleasure.

“You got me so fucking close,” he panted, barely able to get the words out. He was going to cum...or was he?