I don’t think Nikto is necessarily the one night stand guy - but let’s say you manage to snag the silent and stoney man at the corner of your local dive. Narrowed blue eyes watched you all night, barely blinking, so you finally build up the courage to say hi.
One heavy hand pressing on the nape of your neck, driving his hips home at a pace that leaves you drooling on his starched white sheets. Wrings more than one orgasm out of you before he finishes, probably the best pussy feasting (he doesn’t just eat) you’ve ever experienced.
Dark chest hair damp with sweat, a gold crucifix nestled between his pecs. He doesn’t talk much, but you’d bet he made a deal with the devil because that tongue used in other contexts is nothing short of sinful.
Before you leave, he insists on breakfast. The teapot gets topped up several times as you try and sidle out - but it feels impolite to leave him with a brew on the go.
Then you’re shown the shelving unit he built, the neatly repaired trellis in the garden that props up bloody, crimson roses. It’s almost as if he’s flexing on you, like the performance of a lifetime he gave you last night was just the warm up.
Next you’re given a tour of the broad beans in fat, green pods, right beside the berry bushes he tells you will be sweet enough for jam.
When, finally, you’re almost at the door, he checks his Rolex and tells you it’s almost dinner time. You may as well stay, he has homegrown potatoes for supper.
Shocked when the deadbolt is put on the door? Don’t be. He’s a man with many enemies. Besides, you can’t make the journey home on an empty stomach.
Let him fill your cunt one more time heh?! You may as well. Don’t mind Krueger either, he just likes to watch.
