Hank swallowed hard, his throat tight with a mixture of anticipation and a touch of trepidation, as Constance's gaze locked onto his, her eyes burning with a fierce intensity. She moved with a deliberate purpose, her movements fluid and confident, her touch sending a jolt of awareness through his body.

  Constance opened his belt, the sound a soft rasp that echoed in the luxurious space, amplifying the intimacy of the moment. Her fingers, surprisingly gentle yet firm, reached into his pants, the fabric yielding to her touch. She fished out his cock, her eyes never leaving his, a silent challenge in her gaze.

  Dropping from the sofa to her knees before him, she looked up, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips. "This is because I want to," she whispered, her voice a husky purr, a raw edge of need in her tone. The words were a statement of intent, a reclaiming of her own desire.

  She took him into her mouth, the initial contact a searing heat that shot through him. Hank closed his eyes, a groan escaping his lips. The feeling was amazing, an intense wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. It only intensified when she forced herself to swallow him deeper, her throat opening to him in a way that felt both intimate and incredibly arousing.

  He felt her throat constrict around him, a sensation that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He slid all the way in, the sensation almost unbearable in its intensity, until her nose was buried in his pubic hair. He could feel the warmth of her breath, the soft pressure of her lips, the almost desperate need in her movements.

  She swallowed a couple of times, her throat working him with a skill that bordered on the divine. The feeling almost sent him over the edge, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over him. Then, she pulled him out again, her gaze intense, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of triumph and a hint of vulnerability.

  She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips. "You're big," she whispered, her voice a breathy caress, her eyes tracing the length of him. "But fuck, you feel good in my throat."

  Then, without warning, she swallowed him again, her movements more urgent this time, more demanding. Hank moaned, the pleasure building to a crescendo, a wave of sensation that threatened to shatter his control. She kept going, her rhythm relentless, her expertise undeniable. It felt like forever, an eternity of pure, unadulterated bliss, and at the same time, it felt like a blink of an eye, a fleeting moment of intense connection.

  Hank grabbed a hold of her hair, his fingers tangling in its silken strands, his body trembling with the force of his impending climax. "Constance, I can't…" he moaned, his voice thick with desire, his control slipping away.

  She pulled off him, her eyes burning into his, a desperate plea in their depths. "Force it in," she said, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "Hold me down. Fill my throat." She wanted to feel the edge, to give him complete control, to surrender to the intensity of the moment.

  He nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. She took him into her mouth again, her movements eager, her body trembling with anticipation. He grabbed her hair, his grip firm, his fingers tightening. Her eyes sparkled in approval, a flicker of excitement dancing within them. She nodded, her lips parting in silent invitation.

  Then, he forced his cock into her throat, his movements powerful and demanding. She moaned, the sound raw and guttural, sending ripples of pleasure up his shaft, each thrust a surge of pure, unadulterated sensation. "Fuck," he muttered, the word a ragged exhale of desire.

  He forced her head up and down, his rhythm relentless, his control absolute. He made sure she could get a breath of air through her nose from time to time, the intensity of the moment pushing them both to the edge.

  Fast, way to fast, he approached the end, the world narrowing to the sensation between them. He pushed her down hard, his cock plunging deeper into her throat, the feeling almost unbearable in its intensity. Then, he groaned, a guttural sound of release, as he shot spurt after spurt of his cum deep into her stomach, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. The pleasure was immense, a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy that washed over him, leaving him weak and trembling.

  Once he was done, his grip loosened, his fingers sliding from her hair. She rose slowly, her movements deliberate, making sure to savor every last drop of him as she let him go. She kissed the tip of his cock, a soft, reverent gesture. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with gratitude.

  He looked at her, his chest heaving, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his climax. "I always wanted a man to take control," she said, her voice a low, intimate confession. "My husband never could. He wasn't secure enough in himself to do it."

  Then, she rose up and kissed him, her lips meeting his with a newfound intensity. He kissed her back, his own desire reignited, surprising her with his passion. He tasted himself on her lips and tongue, a primal reminder of their connection. It didn't bother him; it only fueled the fire within him. Constance moaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. This was a real man, someone willing to take what he wanted and give what she wanted too.

  Constance felt Hank's arousal against her, a potent surge of heat that pressed against her thigh, a silent testament to the intensity of their connection. She looked down between them, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face, her eyes burning with a mixture of triumph and a possessive fire.

  Her hand, trembling slightly with a mixture of anticipation and power, reached down, her touch feather-light yet firm. She stroked him a few times, her fingers tracing the length of his hardening cock, feeling the heat and the power that pulsed beneath her touch. "Hank," she whispered, her voice a husky purr, thick with a raw, almost desperate desire. "Will you take me?"

  Hank's gaze locked onto hers, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He kissed her, a deep, lingering kiss, a silent promise of what was to come. "My control or yours?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, a playful challenge dancing in his eyes, but beneath the surface, a fierce intensity burned.

  She smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that hinted at the power she held, a seductive challenge in her eyes. Then, she stood up, her movements fluid and purposeful, her body radiating an almost palpable energy. She reached in under her skirt, her touch intimate and confident. She pulled her panties off, the silk whispering against her skin as they slid down her legs, revealing her nakedness with a bold, unapologetic grace.

  She straddled him, her gaze never leaving his, a silent invitation to lose himself in her. "Why don't I take control this time?" she whispered, her voice a breathy caress, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight, promising a journey of intense pleasure.

  She lifted herself, her movements slow and deliberate, guiding him in with a sensual precision that stole his breath. She started to ride him, her hips moving at first with a leisurely grace, teasing him, savoring the moment. But then, the rhythm quickened, her movements becoming more urgent, more demanding, her body arching and swaying with a growing intensity. "Fuck, Hank, you're so deep," she moaned, her voice a husky cry, the words a mixture of pleasure and breathless awe.

  Hank kissed her again, his hands finding her breasts, cupping their fullness, his fingers tracing their curves, his touch igniting a fire within her. "You feel amazing," he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his words a potent aphrodisiac.

  She closed her eyes, her head thrown back, the anticipation alone bringing her to the edge. Her body clenched, a shuddering wave passing through her as she rode him, her first orgasm crashing over her in a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

  Hank slid a hand between them, his fingers finding her clit, its sensitive bud already swollen and throbbing. He used two fingers to flick it with a practiced rhythm, his touch sending her spiraling higher. Her eyes shot open, widening in surprise and intense pleasure, as she came again, her cries echoing through the room. Never had she climaxed twice in such rapid succession, the intensity of his touch and the rhythm of his thrusts pushing her beyond her limits. And yet here this man, Hank, brought her to two orgasms that fast, his power undeniable.

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  "Fuck…" she screamed, her voice raw and guttural, as she surprisingly hit her third orgasm, the contractions gripping him tightly, her body shuddering around him. Her pussy contracted around Hank's manhood, a tight, insistent squeeze that sent a jolt of pleasure through him. She was incredibly tight, a revelation that surprised him. For a woman who had given birth, she was even tighter than the other women he had been with, her body a testament to her strength and vitality.

  "Fuck… Constance, I'm going to cum," Hank whispered, his voice thick with desire, his control slipping away.

  She looked into his eyes, her gaze intense, her voice a desperate plea. "Fill me, Hank. Cum in me," she said, her words a raw, urgent command.

  He kissed her, his movements becoming more forceful, more demanding, his thrusts powerful and deep. Her movements mirrored his, her hips bucking with a renewed fervor, her cries echoing his own. "Fill me, Hank… Fill me," she screamed, her voice a primal urge, her body begging for release.

  Hank finally gave in, his control shattering, the pleasure overwhelming. He thrusted up into her, a powerful, final surge, then he came, his cum shooting into her pussy, a hot, thick stream that filled her completely. He was sure he was deep within her, a primal connection forged in the heat of passion. He shuddered, his body convulsing with the force of his orgasm, the pleasure immense, almost unbearable.

  Once he was done, his breathing ragged, his body still trembling, he let go of her, his hands sliding from her hips. She rose slowly, her movements deliberate, making sure to savor every last drop of him as she let him go, her muscles contracting around him in a final, exquisite squeeze. She kissed him deeply, her lips hot and wet, her tongue tracing his. "Fuck Hank," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, her eyes searching his. "If I ever want another child, please promise me you'll be the one to give it to me."

  Hank kissed her again, his gaze intense, his voice a low rumble. "Constance, if you think you want that, we can talk about it at that time," he whispered, his words carefully chosen, avoiding a direct promise, yet leaving the door open to the possibility.

  She kissed him again, her lips lingering on his, a silent acknowledgment. It was properly the best answer he could give, a delicate balance between acknowledging her desire and avoiding an outright commitment, a way to navigate the intensity of the moment with respect and honesty.

  Constance bent down, her movements fluid and purposeful, and took him fully between her lips. The heat of her mouth enveloped him, a sensation that sent a jolt of pure, raw desire through his body. She sucked him clean, her touch possessive and demanding, her gaze never leaving his.

  She traced his cock head with her tongue, the wet, insistent strokes sending shivers down his spine. Then, she smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips that promised a world of pleasure. "Not letting this go to waste," she whispered, her voice a husky purr, her eyes burning into his.

  She stood up, her posture proud and confident, her body radiating an almost palpable energy. She saw he was still hard, his arousal unwavering, a testament to the intensity of their encounter. "Wow, even when he was your age, my husband never could more than twice," she whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and a hint of possessiveness.

  Hank smirked, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips, a spark of pride igniting within him. "I'm not him," he said, his voice a low rumble, a challenge in his tone.

  She nodded, her eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored his own. "You sure as hell am not," she said, her voice a breathy invitation.

  She leaned over the sofa table, her hands pulling his hands to the curve of her hips, his fingers digging in slightly, urging her closer. She shook her ass at him, a silent invitation to take what he wanted. "This time you are in control," she said, her voice a low, seductive purr, her eyes dancing with wicked delight.

  Hank stood, his desire a raging fire, and without needing further invitation, he plunged his cock into her wet pussy. The heat and the tightness enveloped him, a sensation intensified by his previous ejaculation, making her even more receptive. He fucked her hard from behind, his thrusts powerful and demanding, his rhythm relentless.

  It wasn't even thirty seconds before Constance had her next orgasm, the force of it shaking her body, her cries echoing through the room. Hank held her up by her hips, his grip firm, his thrusts unrelenting. She moaned, her eyes closed, her body trembling with the intensity of her climax. "Fuck Hank, fuck," she moaned, her voice raw and guttural, the words a desperate plea.

  Hank lifted her body up and kissed her again, his own desire surging to new heights, fueled by her passion and the raw energy between them. His hands found her breasts, his fingers pinching her nipples, teasing them, drawing out her pleasure. She groaned, a deep, guttural sound, her body arching into him. Then, she came again, her cries even louder, more insistent. "Fuuuuck," she moaned, her body shuddering around him.

  Then Hank felt it, the familiar tightening, the surge of heat building within him. He was about to cum again, the sensation almost unbearable in its intensity. With hard thrusts, each one a powerful surge of release, he came, filling her once again with his hot, thick cum. He was sure he was deep within her, a primal connection forged in the heat of passion.

  Once he was done, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps, she dropped forward, her legs shaking. She turned around, her gaze possessive, and dropped to her knees, her movements deliberate, her eyes burning into his. She took him into her mouth, her touch insistent and demanding, her lips and tongue working him with a skill that bordered on the divine. He moaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was fucking heaven, the intensity of her touch, her tongue cleaning him of their shared pleasure.

  Hank thought that would be it, a not to brief, but a very intense encounter, but his cock had a different opinion. It stood straight out from his body, a testament to the lingering heat and the undeniable connection between them. Constance moaned softly, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, her eyes fixed on him, a possessive gleam in their depths. She licked from the bottom to the top, her tongue tracing the length of him with slow, deliberate strokes, a sensual exploration that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh my god, I love this," she moaned, her voice a breathy whisper, filled with awe and desire.

  Then, with a fluid grace, she stood up, her posture proud and confident, her body radiating a renewed energy. She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips that promised a world of further pleasure. She saw he was still aroused, his desire mirroring her own, a tangible force in the air between them. "We both need a shower," she said, her voice a husky purr, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight. "How about we continue there?"

  Hank's lips curved into a slow, appreciative smile. The idea was undeniably enticing. He reached out, his hands finding her waist, and lifted her up with surprising ease. She squealed in surprise, a playful sound that echoed through the room. He carried her toward the bathroom, his gaze never leaving hers, the pull between them undeniable.

  Once they entered, the air thick with anticipation, they were kissing deeply, a passionate exchange that left them both breathless. She let his lips go for a second, her voice a husky murmur against his ear. "Shower on, 102 degrees," she called out, her tone suggestive. The shower turned on, the sound of rushing water filling the room. "Very nice," Hank said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes tracing her form.

  He put Constance down gently, and they both pulled off what little clothes they had on, their movements eager and unhurried. Constance stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading down her body, washing over her skin, cleansing the evidence of their encounter. Hank watched, his gaze lingering on the way the water ran down her legs, the curves of her body glistening under the spray.

  He stepped behind her, the heat of the water enveloping them both. He encircled her in his arms, his chest pressing against her back, his lips finding the curve of her neck. He kissed her gently, his breath warm against her skin. "Oh god, Hank, you are perfect," she moaned, her voice a husky whisper, her head falling back against his shoulder. Her mind drifted back to her ex-husband, a stark contrast to the man holding her. He never even paid half as much attention to her, his touch perfunctory, his desire fleeting. He just fucked her and came fast, then he rolled over and slept, leaving her unsatisfied and alone. With Hank, on the other hand, she was in heaven, every touch, every kiss, a testament to his passion and skill.

  Her hand reached behind her, her fingers finding him, her touch possessive and demanding. She grabbed his cock, her grip firm, and placed the hard length of him against her ass, her body language a clear invitation. "I have never tried this," she whispered, her voice a mixture of excitement and a hint of trepidation. "But you are just too perfect."

  Hank swallowed, his desire a raging fire. He pressed forward, his body responding to her invitation. Constance bent forward, her hands spreading her ass cheeks apart, her movements deliberate and enticing. "Fuck Hank, fuck my ass," she moaned, her voice a raw, urgent plea.

  He slowly penetrated her, a low growl erupting from Hank's throat. She was tight, incredibly so, a sensation that both surprised and thrilled him. He had never even thought of doing this, but the feeling was undeniably right, a primal connection forged in the heat of the moment.

  Slowly, he moved back and forth, his movements controlled and deliberate, allowing her to adjust to his presence. Constance moaned, her cries echoing through the steamy air. "Fuck… fuck… fuck," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for more.

  Hank started to move faster, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. The intensity of their connection heightened, pushing them both closer to the edge. Then Constance came, her body arching and trembling, her screams echoing through the bathroom. Hank was nervous for a second, a fleeting thought of whether everyone in the building could hear her, but that was quickly forgotten as he felt himself reaching his own final orgasm.

  With a loud grunt, a primal sound of release, he filled her ass with his cum, the hot, thick fluid a testament to the intensity of their passion. He held on to her tight, his hands cupping her breasts, his lips finding her neck, his voice a low, possessive murmur. "Fuck Constance, you are amazing," he whispered, his words filled with awe and a possessive pride.

  She moaned softly, her eyes closed, her body trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, the warm water washing away the evidence of their coupling.