Six Sentence Sunday - Post One

Michael watched her expressions as he continued to fuck her, his mind drifting.  Natascha was beautiful, more so than he probably deserved.  He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he was sure most women would easily dub him as average.  He’d gotten lucky one drunken night in his favorite watering hole and Natascha had pulled him into the ladies room as the bachelorette party she’d been attending had begun to wind down.  He’d fucked her in a bathroom stall after she’d demanded satisfaction, wrapping her legs around his waist.  Her six inch heels planted into the partition wall across from her, her hips moving in time to each of his thrusts, his pants around his ankles.