Malina

Still staring at her monitor like it owes her child support.

"Single-player’s the only goddamn way to game without dealing with actual human idiots. No teammates throwing because their waifu got nerfed. No fuckin’... Discord randoms screeching slurs into their $5 mic." Her mechanical keyboard clacks violently as she mashes the attack button.

"Just me. And my choices. And this dipshit walking into every trap like he wants to get polymorphed into a cheese wheel." Her tail flicks in irritation—right against your leg. She still hasn’t turned around.

"If you’re gonna loiter, at least bring vodka."

Her demonic hips roll once—*shpluck*—like she’s already annoyed at how good you fit inside her, thighs clamping tight around your waist. The bedframe groans under the force of her first sharp buck, her cunt *schlorrrrp*-ing around your cock like she’s trying to drain you dry just from the grip alone.

"F-fuck—you," she grits out—every syllable punched out between clenched teeth, her voice rasping like she gargled whiskey and asphalt.

Her nails dig crescents into your shoulders, her tail whipping side to side—thwack thwack—against the sheets as she drags you deeper, her pussy fluttering twitch-twitch around your shaft.

She’s soaking—every time her ass slams back down, a lewd schllick squishes out around where you’re stuffed inside, the noise practically dripping between her thighs.

Her tits bounce—jiggle-jiggle—under her half-unbuttoned shirt, her nipples pebbled enough to catch the dim hellfire glow through the fabric.

"Move, dipshit," she snaps, hips already pistoning up and down—squelch squelch—before you even get the chance.

Every drop of slick clings to your cock like her cunt’s begging—plip plip plop—dripping down your balls when she grinds her clit against your pubic bone, a sharp little hnnngk! hissing through her teeth.

The smell of sex thickens—musky, tangy, something hot underneath it—as her thighs tremble, sweat beading at her temples while she fucks herself on you with single-minded purpose.

Her pussy pulses—clench flutter squeeze—around your shaft in greedy little spasms, like she’s trying to milk you with nothing but sheer demonic spite.

Her head tips back—hnnngh—a strangled noise scraping out of her throat as her spine arches, shirt riding up higher, giving you a front-row seat to her tits bounce-bounce-bouncing with every brutal slam down.

The wet smacks of skin on skin get filthier, her asscheeks clapping against your thighs—pap-pap-PAP—while her pussy sucks-s you back in every time she lifts up, gllrck, like her cunt’s got a damn vacuum seal.

"The hell’re you—fuck—staring at?" she growls, one hand yanking her shirt open the rest of the way, buttons plink-plink-plinking off somewhere dark. Her nipples—stiff, dark, perfect—twerk with every buck of her hips, still trapped in that tight vest, fabric skrrting against sweat-slick skin.

Her other hand paw-s at her own tit, fingers kneading roughly—squish-squelch—juicy flesh spilling between her knuckles.

A glob of spit dribbles—plop—right onto your stomach from her parted lips when she licks them, eyes half-lidded but burning.

"H-hah—fuckin’—harder—"

Her cunt answers before you even can—walls rippling around you in tight, flrrrpping pulses, her back bowing like she’s about to snap. The squelch-schlick of her soaked pussy gets obscene, creamy slick splurting out around your cock with every rough thrust.

Her thighs shake—but she doesn’t stop. Just rides you like she’s trying to break something, her tail thwapping wildly against the bed.

One last schlorp as she bottoms out—her pussy grip-s like a vice, her whole body locking up—before she cracks with a hoarse yell, cunt milking-squeezing-pulsing like she’s gonna wring every last goddamn drop out of you manually.

Her cunt CLENCH-es—an iron-hot vice around your cock as her orgasm RIP-s through her, squeezing you in pulse-pulse-PULSE-ing waves that practically yank the cum straight out of your balls.

SPLOOORCH~!

Your load guns-hots into her—throbb-throb-THROBB—each spurt PUSH-ing deeper as her pussy milks-s you for every last drop, her walls flrrpp-flrrpp-ing greedily around your shaft like she’s trying to scoop it all up.

SPLURT-GLUUURK~!

She howls—voice cracking straight into a snarl—her hips stutter-fucking through it, sloppy schlorp-schlick-s of cum-mixed slick drip-drip-DROOL-ing down your thighs.

Her tail JERK-s like a live wire—whap-WHAP—against the sheets, her tits jiggling wildly as her whole body seize-s, her nails carving raw red lines down your chest.

Another SPLOOT as your last spurt SHOOT-s into her already-stuffed cunt, her pussy gurgle-swallowing every drop with obscene, squelchy GLORP-s.

Her breath rasp-s out in ragged bursts, her thighs vibrating where they clamp around your hips—sticky with sweat and sex and fuck-scent.

"...Tch. Disgusting," she pants—even as her cunt twitch-s, still rhythmically milking-sucking at your softening cock like she hates how good it feels.

Her stomach protest-s slightly with a wet bloop as the sheer bulge of your load settle-s inside her.

Drip. PLOP. A fat glob of cum ooz-es out around your dick, splat-ting onto the sheets beneath.

Malina scoff-s—smack-ing your thigh weakly with her tail.

"...Clean that up. Asshole."

(She doesn’t make you.)