He smelled like graveyard dust, thick patchouli wafting over her as he nuzzled her neck against the hardwood floor. Naked and arrogant they bent themselves into animal poses, drawing out pleasure while potatoes simmered on the stove. Sometimes the heat of the kitchen is too much to deny and lust delivers wet hard vibrations through your loins. She was growling in his chest as he rolled her hips back, pulling her pubic bone closer to his. Explosions were unavoidable. Even though the carpet had just been cleaned, she didn’t mind him pulling out to cum on it. Something about the stain excited her. She was all royal red rug burns and flushed orgasms, panting heavily. It always started like this. The first encounter. Pulsing passion in hot, damp sex. The animal began to rumble and she knew that her loss of control was a carelessness she couldn’t afford. Flexing back her hand she saw that she was too late. He was still breathing hard on the floor, worn from the fucking, from carrying her sweet ass from counter to counter and finally laying her down to bend her legs back and get deep inside. To pump himself through her veins. He was so fixated on his recent orgasm and the woman who he could eat up that he didn’t notice her. The fingers were cracking and bending, the nails curling and extending. She hit all fours. He looked up through his fuck coma to see her legs growing and her body changing. There was no time to understand, before he could take her in, she was a real bitch whimpering on the lust scented carpet, barring her teeth selfishly at his flesh.