Black Widow Roleplay

"You always this nice to the women you've fucked? Or am I just a special case?" Johansson teases as she pats him on his sweaty stomach. "Yeah, I'll take that shower... You should put in a call to room service in the meantime. I'll need a bathrobe so I can get back up to my room... And we'll need to change these damn bed sheets, unless sleeping in your own sweat is your style?"

"No, not if I can help it..." He smiles tiredly back as he takes a moment before he sits up next to her. "I think I'll order some water as well... With plenty of ice, since I definitely not going to be heading out now..."

"Fuck it, order some food with it as well. My treat. I'll pay for the lot." Scarlet says with a smile and a nod, making her cum-stained, dyed red hair sway. "After some awesome sex like that? Least I can do for ruining your bed..." She says as she stands up, turning and heading towards the bathroom of the hotel room before she pauses and looks back. "And I mean awesome Michael. You need to work on keeping up your roleplay skills, but otherwise? You're a real fine fuck!" She says with a wink and a smile before she enters the bathroom, switching on the light.

For a moment, Michael just shakes his head with a grin as he hears the sound of water starting to run. He'd just fucked the Black Widow herself Scarlet Johansson up the ass a couple times, and dumped as many facials onto her stunning face. As he picked up the phone and dialled up room service, he couldn't wipe the smile off his handsome face.

Days later, Michael's friends would mock him when he told them he wasted a day of his vacation after getting so drunk one evening he woke up in the late afternoon and decided to slum it inside all day. "What a waste!" they told him, and would rib him for days. Well, who would have believed him if he'd told them he had hooked up with Scarlet Johansson and fucked her fine ass? They would have believed him even less if he'd talked about when she invited him up to her room to spend the evening. And the night...

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