Harry's cock throbbed with overpowering lust. He had longed for months and months to whip his girlfriend like this – lash her down to that miserable bed of hers and stretch her out, pull her legs wide open and rip her cunt apart with his belt, using the hard buckle and on her soft teasing cuntlips, then whip her damn fat boobs until she was screaming and screaming and screaming, begging him to stop hurting her, begging him to shove his cock up her cunt and fuck the hot shit out of her rotten taunting body.
The couple on the screen had acted out a relationship very similar to Harry's involvement with Lynn Richards – that fucking bitch!
He wanted her so bad. She teased and tortured him with her body, wearing the lowest-cut gowns when he took her out, smiling in that ball-busting way of hers, calculated to make him come in his damn pants!
And Lynn talked such a great fuck but never let him get past the feeling stages – a bit of thigh, a piece of ass, a stroke of tit but no cock and cunt action!
Damn you, Lynn!
Gritting his teeth tighter, Harry slouched down in the seat and took in the spectacle on the screen, letting himself get hornier and hornier, angrier and angrier at his nurse girlfriend.