She was riding him fiercly, like there was no tomorrow. His cock was sliding in and out of her wet pussy, whose juices were floawing around. Her hands, on his chest, were gripping something that wasn't there. Her moans were filling the place, she was screaming, she was loving it.
He let out a moan before cumming on his hands. Taking a few seconds to breathe out, he opened his eyes and looked at the cum in his hands. Second time tonight. She made him cum twice in 20 minutes. And it wasn't even her ; it was his imagination, his fantasy. He standed on the bed, tired. It has been months, months he did this, jerking off to her, imagining fucking her brains out, imagining her moan on his cock, sucking him off, making him cum at the same time as her. She was all he wanted. He wanted to make her moan, scream, orgasm. Sometimes he felt soft, gentle, wanted to lay her on the bed, kiss her, suck her tits, lick her pussy and fuck her for hours, then they would cum together. But at other times, it was pain he wanted. To treat her like a whore, to face-fuck her, make her gag, so she would scream in surrender, and he would cum all over her face after fucking her in all positions. He looked down. Damn. He was hard again. He needed to stop this. He needed to do something about it. He needed Lena to be his slut.