She was the kind of girl who walked into the bar like she owned the floor, thick thighs rubbing together in those tight jeans, belly soft and round under her low-cut top. Mark spotted her immediately. He bought her a drink, they talked shit for twenty minutes, and then she was in his car, legs spread, already moaning when his hand slid between them.
By the time they hit his apartment she was dripping. He barely got the door shut before she shoved him against the wall and dropped to her knees. “I need cock right now,” she growled, yanking his belt open. Her mouth was hot and greedy, lips stretching wide around his shaft, spit running down her chin as she took him deep. She wasn’t shy about the noise either—wet, sloppy sucks and loud gagging every time she forced him into her throat.
Mark pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the couch. He ripped her jeans down to her knees, exposing the full, jiggling ass and the soaked pussy between her thick legs. “Fuck me hard,” she demanded, pushing back against him. He slammed in deep on the first thrust and she screamed like she’d been waiting her whole life for it. Her body shook with every stroke, fat ass rippling, pussy clenching so tight it felt like she was trying to milk him dry.
She went crazy fast. After the first orgasm she didn’t slow down—she started bucking back like an animal, cursing and begging.
“Harder, you bastard, wreck that fat cunt!” Her voice cracked, high and desperate. Mark grabbed her hips, fingers sinking into soft flesh, and pounded her until the couch scraped across the floor. She came again, squirting down her own thighs, legs trembling so hard she nearly collapsed.
He flipped her onto her back on the floor, spread those heavy legs wide, and drove back in. Her tits bounced wildly with every thrust, nipples dark and stiff. She clawed at his back, heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper. “Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop,” she snarled, eyes glassy. Her pussy fluttered and pulsed around him, another orgasm ripping through her so violently she arched clean off the floor and howled.
They moved to the bedroom because the living-room rug was soaked. She climbed on top, straddling him, belly and tits jiggling as she rode like she was possessed. Every downward slam made wet slapping sounds that filled the room. She leaned forward, hands on his chest, and ground her clit against him while she bounced, muttering filthy nonsense between gasps. “Gonna come again, fuck, I can’t stop, I’m losing my mind on this dick.”
Mark flipped her onto all fours and took her from behind again, one hand fisted in her hair, the other slapping her ass until it glowed red. She pushed back harder, meeting every thrust, screaming into the mattress. Her third—or maybe fourth—orgasm hit like a seizure; her whole body locked up, thighs quivering, pussy squeezing so tight he had to fight to keep moving. She was babbling now, voice hoarse: “More, more, fill me up, breed this fat slut, I need it.”
He came deep inside her, but she didn’t let him rest. She spun around, sucked him clean with the same hungry desperation, then shoved him onto his back and climbed on again. She rode him through the sensitivity, using his cock like a toy, chasing another orgasm while sweat ran down her curves. When she finally collapsed on top of him, both of them shaking, she was still twitching, little aftershocks making her hips jerk.
They lay there panting, her heavy body draped over his, both of them wrecked and sticky. She laughed, low and satisfied, and whispered against his neck, “Round two in ten minutes. I’m nowhere near done going crazy yet.”
