The bass thumped through the dimly lit bar as I spotted Natasha Henstridge—all 28 years of her—leaning against the counter. Her curves were a fucking masterpiece in a tight black dress. I slid over, bought her a drink, and let the dirty talk flow. She was hesitant, playing coy, but her eyes lingered on my bulge.

Back at my place, I told her to slip into something sexy. She emerged in crimson lace lingerie, her tits spilling over the cups, her pussy barely hidden by the thin fabric. I palmed her through it, feeling her wetness seep. "No," she whispered, but her hips ground against my hand.

I pushed her onto the bed, ripping the lingerie aside. My dick, thick and throbbing, pressed against her entrance. "I'm fertile," she gasped, trying to squirm away. I gripped her thighs, spreading her wide. "That's the point," I growled, slamming into her tight cunt. She cried out, her walls clamping down as I pounded her deep. With a grunt, I buried my cock to the hilt, pumping my load straight into her womb. She shuddered, accepting my seed.

After that, she turned submissive. We fucked all night—her on her knees sucking my dick, me bending her over to plow her from behind. Each thrust was wet and sloppy, her ass jiggling with every smack. By dawn, she was begging for more, covered in cum and sweat.