Hypersexual Honey

I couldn't believe my luck when Honey sauntered into the bar, her curves poured into a skimpy yellow dress that clung like honey to her dripping-wet body. Her eyes locked on mine, full of raw, insatiable hunger, and before I knew it, she was straddling my lap in the dimly lit corner booth, grinding her soaked pussy against my throbbing cock through my jeans. "Fuck me now," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear, her nipples hard peaks poking through the thin fabric as she freed my dick and impaled herself on it with a guttural moan. She rode me like a wild animal, her tight, velvet walls clenching and milking every inch, juices squirting down my shaft with each savage bounce. Her massive tits bounced free, and I latched onto one, sucking her swollen nipple while she screamed, "Harder, fill me up!" People stared, but she didn't care—Honey was hypersexual, a cum-craving slut who needed cock 24/7. She came explosively, her body convulsing, flooding my balls with her nectar, but she wasn't done. Flipping around, she shoved her ass in my face, spreading her cheeks to reveal her puckered hole winking invitingly. "Tongue my ass first," she demanded, and I dove in, lapping at her musky rosebud while fingering her gushing cunt. She bucked back, smothering me in her flesh, then guided my cock to her backdoor. I slammed in balls-deep, her anal ring gripping like a vice as she howled in ecstasy. We fucked relentlessly—missionary, doggy, her legs over my shoulders—until I exploded, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into her greedy holes. But Honey just grinned, licking it off her fingers. "Round two at my place. I need more." God, this hypersexual honey was going to drain me dry—and I couldn't wait.