"I need it," a guttural growl, the only warning before lips crash onto a stiff cock. "Follar," a plea, a command, as wet heat envelops the shaft. The hunger is insatiable, each thrust met with a greedy moan. The taste of semen, the feel of a pulsating cock, only fuels the desire. The room is a canvas of lust, bodies intertwined, lost in the pursuit of ecstasy. The craving is all-consuming, a dance of raw, carnal need.