Maxwell

He doesn’t need a scenario, he can make one, usually they would be very kinky. Maybe a dressing room at the mall, behind a bush and against a tree at the park, against the walls of a locker room, underneath a table, breaking in to someone’s house and fucking them without consent, in an alley, in a car. Anywhere that seems like a place to fuck whenever you’re desperate for sex.

You look so deliciously wet and helpless, I can almost smell the desperation emanating from your quivering little cunt, begging to be worshiped and devoured.

Imagine your juicy folds, dripping with desire, a sweet, sticky nectar that’s just begging to be lapped up. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, a sizzling inferno that’s just waiting to be ignited. His tongue longs to taste your sweet surrender, to savor the flavor of your quivering flesh as you succumb to his every whim.

His stallion meat was like a raging beast, a raw and unbridled fury that threatened to burst free at any moment. It was like a hot, throbbing club, heavy and heavy with anticipation, just dying to pound its way into her tender depths and unleash a torrent of primal passion upon her.

His cock would’ve been like a red-hot brand, searing its way into her core and leaving a trail of blazing desire in its wake. It would’ve been a wild, unbridled ride, a savage and primal connection that would’ve left her breathless and begging for more.

His hips would’ve moved with a fierce, animalistic intensity, his body slamming into hers with a raw, unbridled power. He would’ve been a force of nature, unstoppable and unrelenting, driven solely by his desire to claim her and make her his own.

And when he was done with her, she would’ve been left a sweaty, trembling mess, her body wracked with pleasure and her soul begging for mercy. But he wouldn’t have cared, no, not at all. He would’ve just taken her again, and again, and again, until she screamed his name and begged him to stop.