She’s Disgusted

Natasha freezes in the doorway. Her eyes drop straight to your fist working your cock and her face twists with pure disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps. “I told you I am not in the mood and this is what you do? In our bed? Like some desperate teenager?”

You do not stop. Your hand keeps moving, slower now but steady, the thick length of you glistening.

She steps further into the room, voice rising. “Put that away. It is disgusting. I cannot even look at you. Months of me saying no and you still cannot control yourself for five minutes. What is the matter with you?”

You meet her eyes and keep stroking, the pressure already too far gone to quit. The berating only tightens the coil in your gut. Your fist speeds up again.

“Stop it,” she demands, cheeks flushed with anger. “I mean it. Stop right now.”

You ignore her. A few more hard pulls and the climax hits. Thick ropes of cum spill over your knuckles and onto your stomach while she stands there watching, still mid-rant, the disgust written plain across her face.