The gray apron fell from her body as soon as Cyril reached Freya. The sound of tearing fabric shifted with the excited cry of surprised woman. He tore her threadbare dress in half along her body, revealing her large breasts, soft but flat stomach, and ridiculous underwear that clung to her firm thighs.

Freya lifted her arms and gripped the edge of the bed, exposing her armpits with the marks of yesterday's shave. Her firm breasts swayed, inviting his hungry lips to cup her sharp nipples.

Cyril pounced on the right breast, grabbing the nipple deep in his mouth with the passion of a hungry wolf. He began to suck greedily, nibbling at the hard small mound. His left hand gripped the other breast and began to squeeze. His other hand was on the bed.

Freya let out a loud scream as Cyril pulled at the lump with his tongue. He took one last bite at the hardened nipple and raised himself on his right hand. He looked into her eyes. The emptiness in her eyes was gone. Now the woman's eyes glowed with passion, admiration, and the desire for a hot orgasm.

Somewhere in the depths of her gaze was fear. Cyril felt this fear, because he had seen the same horror in other people just before they died.

I'm sorry, Freya. Cyril thought. But you're not fucking with me right now. I lost control of my body again.

Meanwhile, Cyril's left hand was around Freya's throat, and his other hand was ripping off her ridiculous underwear. Freya wanted to breathe, but the waitress's vagina burned with a much greater desire. The lack of air as a result of suffocation mixed with the vivid sensations in the lower abdomen, causing Freya to experience an incredible, perverse pleasure.

You don't even try to resist. Cyril was surprised as his hand tightened around her throat. I don't fucking want you dead. We need to do something about it.

While he was trying to find a way out and make himself feel something other than arousal and lust, his right hand finally tore off the underwear and tossed it to the far corner of the room. Seeing Freya about to suffocate, he remembered his wife. His weakness threatened to lead to another death again.

The memory of his wife and son made him feel pain. With pain came remorse. It was followed by anger.

You fucking body! Don't! He shouted with rage in his mind. Don't kill her!

He didn't know if it was a coincidence, but his left hand dropped from the waitress's throat.

"Cough-cough." Freya coughed, gasping for air. "Take me, you damned beast!"

She roared in a voice that wasn't her own, and in turn grabbed Cyril by the back of the neck and pulled him to her. Again her sensuous mouth engulfed him in a long kiss.

His left hand went back to her breast this time. Cyril pinched her nipple with his fingers, crushed the large mound in his palm, and slid closer to her back. His right hand lifted the woman's hip. Freya wrapped her left leg around him.

"Oh, fuck!" Cyril cried as soon as he broke away from the kiss.

I have regained control! He exclaimed inwardly, exulting in his victory.

His blood-swollen hot cock throbbed sharply in the area of the head. Cyril felt as if his balls were about to burst right in his furry scrotum. Freya's stiff pubic hair scratched the shaft of his cock.

Leaning on the bed with his left hand, he moved the pelvis so that his right hand could grab his penis and guide it to the entrance of her vagina.

When the throbbing head touched the soft flesh of her vulva, Freya moaned and smiled. Cyril restrained himself from driving his cock all the way in at once, and began to move up and down the soft flesh.

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Freya lay across the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. Cyril released his cock and got to his feet. Then he grabbed the woman with both hands and moved her so that Freya was lying along the bed. Then he climbed up on the bed and knelt at her feet.

"What are you waiting for, monster?" Freya asked in a tone of displeasure, though her hungry look in her eyes said she liked it.

Cyril smiled. Now he was really happy with the way things had turned out. First, under the earth, and then and now he was once again able to subdue his body.

He still didn't understand what was happening to him. Cyril still didn't remember how he had come to be in this world, or where the local currency in his pants had come from. He still couldn't quite believe that he could kill with his bare hands. He was still suffering from the loss of his family. But he saw the changes and couldn't help but be happy.

"Do you want me to do it fast or slow?" He asked, towering over Freya.

"Oh, you bastard." She smiled, holding out a hand to pat him on the chest.

"Until I continue." He said, leaning over her to face her. "You must remember one thing."

Freya moaned and dug her nails into the skin of his back as he leaned so close to her. His special smell was driving her crazy. She wanted this man, wanted to give herself to him, wanted to orgasm in his strong hands. She saw what he did. Freya, too, knew that he was somehow controlling the elemental. The knowledge of such power drove her mad.

She lifted her head sharply to kiss his insolent, smiling lips. Cyril did not pull away and allowed himself to be kissed. Their tongues met, collided like gale-force winds, and parted when he broke away and grinned again.

"It's just sex." He said. "Do you agree?"

"You're a brute." Freya smiled back. "You're a terrible, disgusting scoundrel, Cyril. I don't want to be alone anymore."

"I can't give you what you're looking for, Freya." He said, still smiling. "I'll be leaving soon. But as long as I'm here, we can share the joy."

Freya couldn't hold back any longer. She was on fire, hungry vagina was dripping with grease, her vulva was covered with itch, the uterus was throbbing. Her breasts filled with blood, thickened, and longed for a firm hand. Freya was willing to do anything to satisfy her long-standing sexual hunger.

Her brain was beginning to fail, her mind was blurred, and Freya was losing touch with reality. The sensations were too strong, too vivid. She had experience with men, and Cyril wasn't the first one in her bed. She had experienced hundreds of orgasms in her life, but the sensations had never been so intense.

"What are you doing to me, monster?" She whispered, hovering on the edge of consciousness.

"Nothing special." Cyril said. He really didn't understand why he had messed with her head so completely.

She couldn't take it anymore. The desire was growing stronger by the second. Her body burned, her mind was lost in a haze.

"Do what you want." She said, closing her eyes and moaning again. "We're just lovers."

"Thank you." Cyril said, this time seriously.

No matter how much he wanted to penetrate her right now, no matter how much he wanted to cum in a hot vagina covered with thick and spiky hair, Cyril considered himself an honest man.

I don't care how strong I've become or will become in the future. He thought, grabbing Freya's tight ass with both hands. I don't want to see resentment in women's eyes anymore.

He lifted her pelvis with both hands while Freya moaned, exposing her armpits, and pressed his hard penis against her dark red vulva. The waitress's vagina gaped, inviting Cyril to enter. Without the slightest resistance, he inserted the head into the dark hole and slid down a third of the shaft.

The heavy lubricant eased his way, while reducing the force of stimulation. Cyril continued to sink, pushing his penis deeper into the warm womb. Finally, he entered at full length and rested his lower belly against Freya's prickly pubis. A sharp shudder shot through his body, and he closed his eyes.

Natasha. He thought, starting to move his hips. I wish it was you.

Cyril kept his eyes closed, imagining the face of his dead wife. He remembered every detail, every early wrinkle, the unevenness of the lips, the badly tinted lashes, and the upturned nose. The shape of her ears, the color of her dark hair, her smile, and her voice.

I'll find you. He thought, and began to move faster.

After making a mental promise, he opened his eyes and looked at Freya. This woman was undoubtedly beautiful; she had her own charm, her own features. Wild eyes, a slanting smile of thin lips, a straight nose, tousled dark brown hair. Hot breath and loud moans made Cyril burn with lust and passion.

Cyril pushed harder and harder, driving his cock deeper. Then he would move back, almost completely out of her, leaving only the head inside, and then sink again.

Freya clutched the sheets, moaning, and screamed in the room.

However, Cyril had made up his mind, and the woman in his arms was now nothing more than a temporary friend. He was glad that they had settled the matter of obligation, and now he could satisfy her hunger in peace.

"You must smile, Freya." He said, pushing harder with his hips. "Smile at the guests. Fucking shine! So even king himself can tell you what a fucking great waitress you are."

He pushed one more time.

"A-Ah!" There was a groan.

"You should be welcoming and love them like your own mother." Cyril continued, sinking the full length of his penis. "So they want to come back because they're welcome here."

"Y-Yes!" The waitress shouted.

Cyril was sweating, moving faster and faster.

"Every time you get tired." He said without stopping. "If I see emptiness in your eyes again, Freya."

"H-ha! Y-Yes!"

He plunged again and the head of his penis hit the back wall of her vagina.

"I will fuck you." He said. "As long as you smile, as long as you want to live. If only the light burned in your empty, fucking lifeless gaze."

Again and again he sank to the full depth, beginning to moan himself.

"C-Cyril! A-a-ah!" She screamed even louder, and her whole body shook.

The walls of her vagina clenched around his cock, her thighs convulsed, her fingers tightened on the sheets, and her eyes rolled back, twitching their lashes. Freya was coming. Oxytocin was exploding in her brain. The body went limp in the strong hands, but the uterus was still contracting, inviting Cyril to release the seed.

And then I'll leave.

With that thought, his own hormones shot through his brain. An army of spermatozoa in a stream of whitish liquid burst into the female womb, seeking to enter the uterus and inseminate the limp waitress.

Cyril made a few more hip movements. He released all his sperm into Freya's pussy without a trace and enjoyed the shudder that passed through his body. Cyril looked at her face.

"She passed out." He said, letting go of the woman's thighs.

He left the unconscious body lying on the bed, removing the penis and getting out of bed. A mixture of her lube, his semen, and her ejaculatory fluid dripped from the limp end. Without even bothering to wipe his penis with a cloth, Cyril opened the door and left the room.

He was still hungry.