Sarah Jane Clarke grumbled as she carried the overfilled trash can down the stairs back to her truck. Yet another elderly resident had complained they were unable to get their trash down to the street, so Sarah Jane had to trump up to get it.
Her truck was shaking from an impact. The horrible thought that someone had crashed into it tickled through her brain. But then the truck was shook again and again. What the hell she thought, as she walked around to the front she could have sworn it sounded like a guy engaging in sex. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing to my truck!!?"
Sarah Jane rounded the front and almost ran into a mountain of a man... if he could be deemed that. The "man" was as broad as a house, his upper torso flared out to an insane degree. His body bristled with an impossible level of muscles, and strangest of all he had a giant rhino horn projecting from his crotch, covered in engine oil.
The man's face peeled back into a mocking smile. "Lady, I'm fucking your truck." The mental image scared Sarah Jane. How the hell could that tusk thing not break off? As she turned to look at it, Sarah Jane felt a strange compulsion, her hand seeming to reach out of it's own accord and began to stroke the man's shaft. He let out moan and almost collasped on her, but she continued. The oil lubricated it slightly, but the impossible smoothness of the ivory didn't need it.
Sarah Jane had not considered the altered sexual drives of her partner. Whenever Ben struck a blow hard enough to cause him pleasure, he'd been conditioned to rapidly follow up that blow, so naturally enough when she brought him to an inital climax, he bucked with all his might and impaled himself on what was infront of him. Her.
Sarah Jane's eyes and mouth went wide in shock, falling backwards off the invader. Ben snorted and continued to thrust. "Need! More! MORE!" He thundered off in search of something else, leaving the woman who pleasured him moments before knocked out on the ground...