December 21, 2018
Whitney, being carried around on a chair by a bunch of employees, bottle of champagne in her hand sloshing its contents across the floor as they tote her around, is drunk, and slurs the lyrics: "Oh, the fire outside is fitful-- but the weather inside's delitful--" The chair yaws forward. Whitney's eyes bulge and she gasps at the sudden forward momentum. She windmills her arms wildly, trying to find purchase, but there's nothing to hold onto. She somehow steadies herself, though, and the people under her get the chair level again. Triumphant, she throws her head back, takes a gulp of her drink, and croons: "since we've got no place to goooo-- let it snow, let it snow, let it snoooow~"
She sings this song, despite the fact that playing over the radio right now is "Jingle Bell Rock."
Everyone cheers for her.
Ebeneezer Scrooge she isn't -- the raucous scene in this cafeteria is on account of the absolutely massive Christmas bonus she just doled out, 10% of every employee's annual salary. With over 500 employees at the main branch, pulling a median salary of $200,000... well, do the math. It's an extravagance that everyone around her, you included, argued she couldn't afford. But she insisted that it was a necessary boon to keep people from leaving the battered company. And maybe she was on to something. You haven't seen the workers here at Darkbloom Analytics smiling like this since... well, since ever.
You, though -- Ebeneezer Scrooge you are. Bah humbug, fiddlesticks and hogwash. You hate parties and you especially hate Christmas parties, the tinsel, the chintzy music, strategically placed mistletoe and compulsory yuletide cheer. You cast your eyes about the room in search of someone to share in your misery. Rose, you know, also hates Christmas; but you see that she's busy vomiting into a potted fern in the corner, having gotten suitably sloshed herself. Armstrong and Nelson, who were the most vehement after Mara in insisting that DBA could not possibly afford the bonuses, now lock arms and launch into a joint (and jointly off-tune) rendition of Deck the Halls. 10% looks pretty good to them, too, after all. Fazil, having apparently jumped feet-first into apostasy, helps Dr. Carte set a tree topper on the giant tree in the center of the cafeteria.
Kay. She has to be against Christmas on principle, right? You try to find her. But what horror. She's at the buffet table, eating a big old bowl of cranberry sauce, sipping a glass of sweet wine, and she's deep in conversation with Stackleford. Awful. Tyrus is playing dreidel with Noelle, and it looks like they're playing for keeps; Saul and Charlotte make out under some of that strategically placed mistletoe; Spancer is mechanically doling out small wrapped boxes from a sack over his shoulder, Santa hat and fake beard and all.
Vivian... surely, of all the people at Darkbloom Analytics, surely Vivian is having a shitty time. She loves having a shitty time. She constructed her entire personality around having a shitty time. But no. Tonight, Vivian is feeding carrots to the reindeer that Whitney hired a zoo trainer to bring in for everyone. The two have developed a rapport it seems; and the beast nuzzles Vivian lovingly, allowing her to scritch it on its head between the antlers.
Everyone here is having fun. You hate it.
If Cerise were here, you think, she would be miserable just like you. You could be miserable together. Then you'd be having a good time.
Whitney stumbles past, at the head of a conga line, wearing an elf hat. Her employees sway and sashay behind her. She glances your way. "Ally! Do me a flavor!"
She's congaing past already, and you make no attempt to keep pace with her. You simply remain on the room's periphery, standing around, moping. She's out of range before you hear what her, uh, "flavor" is.
Whitney isn't so easily defeated, however. She snakes the line back around now, among laughter and drunken tripping. As she congas the other way, her head swiveling to its limits to keep her eyes glued to you as she passes, she calls: "Assmunch! I want you to go-- guys, stop-- GUYS, really, hold on-- Ally! I need you to go--"
Your eyes track her out of earshot, but none of the rest of your body follows suit. The line of revelers passes a second time. Cha cha cha.
On her third return, Whitney is livid. "You fucking bitch, Ally! Will you listen to me! Go find Alex! That ungrateful little twinkie pie is worse than you! He didn't even show up!"
She's out of range once more, and the procession disappears into the throng of non-conga celebrants. You figure she'll find her way past you at some point again. Meanwhile, you just keep hanging out. And in the interim, the music takes an agonizing descent from hell's eighth circle ("Jingle Bell Rock"), directly into hell's ninth circle ("Wonderful Christmastime").
"Why aren't you gone yet!!" Whitney howls on her way back around, when she notices you. Still kicking her legs in tune with the music, though, what a party trooper.
You shrug. "Where is he?"
"Where do you think! Probably down in his fucking basement! I'm handing out free bonuses like I'm a Gameshark and he can't be bothered to take a five minute break to party! It's reindeershit!"
You shake your head. Sometimes you wonder how Whitney stays so goddamn Whitney all the time.
She gave you a task, though, and it's as good an excuse as any to excuse yourself. Out the cafeteria, down the hall, into the elevators -- only then do your ears get respite from the dulcet tones of Paul McCartney's Moog synthesizer.
You rarely prowl the halls of the R&D labs these days. Too many bad memories. Tonight it's especially eerie, because it's mostly dark, and totally empty; it reminds you of the night when you were down here for very different reasons, six months ago. Still, you have a mission, and you'd be remiss if you didn't see it through. Besides that, maybe you'll find a kindred spirit in Alex, who's often as mopey as you are these days. Maybe you can hate Christmas together.
You know where to find him, the same place he always sits: his workstation just outside what used to be Sable's office. The office is now technically his, having ascended to the CTO position in Sable's absence. But he refuses to claim it, refuses even to remove Sable's placard from the door, so convinced he is that she will return. So he works among his own employees as if he never graduated from being the underling.
The workstations outside Sable's old office are quite public, just PC setups arrayed at long tables, side by side, back to back -- no privacy. Which is why as you enter the room, the first thing to register in your brain is raw shock. Shock to hear pornography blasting at full volume from Alex's speakers, and to see Alex himself sitting at his computer, naked below the waist, onahole in hand, jerking off.
Your shock only heightens when Alex, noticing your presence at the threshold, merely swivels in his rolling chair and waves. He stops masturbating, at least. But he doesn't cover himself up, or so much as take the onahole off his cock. Rather, he leaves it wrapped around his dick, the wet pink material of it translucent enough to show the outline of his still hard and twitching shaft nestled inside.
Some slut on the monitor is making shameful animal-like grunts as she gets fucked hard against the floor of a bathroom. You look, slackjawed, from the obscene action on-screen, back to Alex, who's just smiling up at you as if this is a normal visit between coworkers.
"What's up?" He asks.
"What's up?" You hiss back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"
He blinks a few times, then glances down at his own genitals still mated to the plastic pussy. Like he himself is suddenly surprised to realize he was masturbating. He shrugs at you. "It's been stressful lately, so I thought I'd use the chance while everyone is at the party to blow off some steam..."
"Jesus," you mutter, mostly to yourself.
"You don't mind -- right?" He rubs the back of his head. "I mean, we do so much worse stuff at work!" A blush spreads across the ridge of his nose, then -- and he glances tempted back at his screen. The porn starlet in the movie is some tarted up little teen in pigtails and thick makeup and gaudy neon-colored stockings. At the moment she's getting her face pressed cruelly into a urinal by the muscled stud pounding her cunt.
You didn't realize Alex was... so into women? So into seeing women fucked like that?
This is a lot to process.
Alex wraps both hands around the thick, soft-looking onahole, and slowly starts to tug it up and down on his glistening shaft. Almost like he's daring you to stop him.
"Alex--" you begin. "--you shouldn't..." You look over your shoulder, down the hall, panicked that someone is going to come walking by. But it's as deserted as ever out there.
"Everyone's upstairs, Ally, it's fine." Rather than heeding your advice and stopping, Alex is going a little faster now. The slick noise of his dicksleeve bringing him pleasure fills the room, mingling with the lewd sound of the blaring porno. "I really wanna cum, so... please just look away, if it bothers you..."
He turns fully towards the PC now, slightly hunched over, and begins to hump back up against his onahole even as he pistons it up and down. His eyes are misty and his lips are parted. He's utterly transfixed. You recognize that pose, and that pace; the desperate onanistic bliss you yourself have known so well.
You try, one last time, to talk some sense: "You can't do that here!"
Alex shivers in frustration, his climax interrupted. He slumps his shoulders, spins back in your direction now. "Don't be so lame, Ally. We've fucked and sucked, and done SO much other stuff here! What's the matter if I play with myself too?"
You're not really sure how to respond.
He grins playfully. "What are you gonna do, anyway? Tell on me? Report me to my boss? I bet she'd approve. Bet she'd ask you to help, even..."
His eyes drift downwards, towards the tent in your jeans. "See?" He says. "You're not so against it."
You clear your throat. "You're such..." you begin. "Such..."
"Such what?"
You narrow your eyes at him. "You're such a fucking slut. That's what."
Alex giggles. "Uh huh." He uses his feet to propel himself a bit back from the table, and stands. He pushes the chair totally aside now, and beckons you towards him even as he sits down on the carpet.
You think you know what he's playing at and you fully approve. He made you hard, so he has to take responsibility; he's volunteering to suck your cock. You unzip, and pull it out, and present it to him. But he just giggles slyly again. "Sit down, Ally. And take your pants off first."
"...Why?"
He pats the ground beside him. You kick your jeans off and sit.
Alex is wide eyed and wolfish and shameless in the way he stares. "You've got a really nice cock, you know that?" He says. He reaches across and pets it appreciatively. Just the softness of his hand is enough to make you almost purr in perverted enjoyment.
"I know. And you made it all hard. What are you gonna do about it?"
"I was hard first~" he teases. He sticks out his tongue. "What are YOU gonna do about it?"
"Nothing. You need to--"
"Have you ever shared an onahole, Ally?" He asks.
"I-- no. Of course not."
"Me neither. I wanna try it."
You look appraisingly at the rubber hole still wrapped around his dick. It's pretty decently sized, but so is Alex -- it doesn't look exactly roomy in there. The other side of it isn't even open.
By the same token, you can't deny how inviting it looks to your horny dick. The visible portion of Alex's cock that isn't buried in the onahole shines bright under the room's fluorescent lighting. Lube coats his smooth balls, and drips off his scrawny, feminine thighs. It all looks so squishy, and wet, and warm, and snug.
Before you know what's going on, you feel a warm drizzle running down your prick. Alex is already dispensing lube from the bottle, copiously, all over your genitals. He keeps the bottle firmly squeezed and tilted forward so a laminar stream of it pours from the uncapped opening. It runs viscously all around your pulsing dick and soils your boxers, too. "My underwear--!" You snap, angry, to which Alex simply replies: "take 'em off if you don't want 'em to get messy."
You quickly wiggle out of them and toss them aside. Again, you're acutely aware of how compromising the situation is. This might be the Bay Area, but two people jerking off together at work in plain view of everyone is probably still forbidden. Anyone could come by, and the door isn't even locked.
"Open your legs," Alex says, "like this." Leaning back on his butt, he goes spread-eagle and scooches himself towards you. You mirror the gesture. Like this, you wrap your legs around one another.
Alex pulls the onahole off his dick with a wet vacuous plop. He laughs mischievously at the lewd sight. Strands of sticky lube dangle from the well-used toy. His prickhead is cherry red and angry looking and drooling precum -- no, not a feminine dick at all. His hand, also wet with lube, presses your dicks together. You moan a little, and so does he, at the heat and pressure of the skin-to-skin contact. He bears the onahole downwards, and the elastic ring of its opening stretches taut, turning white from the strain, around your cocks. It seems you're pushing the device to the limit of its shear strength, and you're sure that it will rip in two along the seam. But unbelievably, it doesn't. The slimy orifice just yawns wide to accommodate the girth of your two meaty pricks invading it. Then in an instant it swallows up the entire bulbous head of your cock, Alex's too -- your pricks are mashed tightly together, between the ridged polymer walls of this pocket pussy built for one.
He doesn't stop there. He keeps forcing the tiny hole down, further and further, swallowing up more and more of your hungry dicks. Lube and precum mix together, and the closed-off hole traps the heat of it inside. It's like you're really fucking a pussy. But the rigid, velvety hard pressure of Alex's prick against you, so alien, is reminder that you aren't -- that you're masturbating shamelessly with another guy. At random intervals, his dick twitches against yours, which sends little spurts of pleasure through your own dick, and makes it twitch in response. It's like the two dicks are hugging, as they twitch back and forth against each other in a sort of syncopated, unpredictable rhythm.
When your piss slit butts up against the ribbed top of the onahole, Alex doesn't stop. He keeps forcing the cocksleeve down, down, down, until you're both seated inside all the way to your nuts. It's stretched to its limit in all directions now; you feel the rubbery strain of it bearing down tight against your entire cock, choking it with a vicelike pressure.
Using both his hands, Alex begins to jerk off. You and him both. He bobs the toy up and down with a frenzied need. It's messy. Droplets of fluid spray out, onto the carpet; the viscous mixture coats your nuts and runs further down still, over your ass.
The porn on Alex's PC is still playing, although neither of you are watching. The sow-like oinking of the bitch getting fucked half to death on-screen is just background noise as you and Alex stare at the toy you're getting off inside of together. You lean forward, to tug Alex's shirt up and off his lithe frame. He helps you. His pale body is coated in sweat and his little pink nipples are rock hard. Overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him, he chews a pinky and moans girlishly, using his other hand to play with his boyish chest.
But you need the slippery sensation of that hole bouncing up and down on your dick. So you take over. You grab the toy with both palms and pick up where Alex left off. You pound it up and down on your dicks with that same frenzied need, that need to cum inside, to inseminate a fuckhole -- even a fake one, even if you're doing it in tandem with Alex. Alex sighs and groans and giggles as you take him along for the ride and help him mount the peak of his orgasm. He throws his head back and laughs deliriously, and humps against the onahole the way you do, too. You're frotting within the hot, tight confines of this toy, and you're about to blow your load.
"Allyyy~" he sighs. His voice is shrill and high and lusty. "Cum with me... let's cum together..."
You let go of the toy, and hug Alex tight. He hugs you back. You use the pressure of your bodies crushing together for leverage; the two of you, in unison, hands-free, hump the onahole. It's an erratic, uncoordinated effort, but it gets the job done. Alex rests his chin on your shoulder, and you on his, as your hips move at a blur. Your bodies are slapping wetly together as you fuck yourselves into an almost druglike high. The sound of your simulated twin mating session totally drowns out the porn, fills the room with nothing but sloppy slurping noises that bounce and echo off the walls. Only distantly are you aware, and even more distantly do you care, about the risk anymore. You just need to fucking cum right now.
"Ahhhn~" Alex mewls directly into your ear. You feel his nuts against yours tighten, then the awesome expansion of his dick as the cum courses up it, and then the unbelievably hot sensation of the cum finally shooting out in powerful spurts, straight into the too-tight interior of the onahole. It coats your dick and sets you off too. With heavy grunts and exhalations and moans of your own, your sperm is joining his. The undersides of your dicks are kissing, and the heads of your dicks are squirting, and your onahole is leaking entire rivers of excess cum and lube right into your humping laps. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull with the unabated pleasure of it all, as you fuck and hump together with Alex to wring out every last delicious millisecond of this mutual climax.
When at last it's done, Alex seems to have gained his wits more quickly than you, although his voice is shaky. "That was..." he begins, breathless. "That was... oh gosh... oh, I made such a mess, didn't I... we did..."
You let him free of your hug, and lean way back on one hand. Alex grips the onahole tightly, and he lazily masturbates it up and down a bit -- enjoying the shudders of pleasure it incites in him as he stimulates his still sensitive dick against yours. The whole interior of the onahole is full with sperm, your cocks are pressed into a milky mess that even now stirs and sloshes with every stray pulse or twitch from your pricks.
You finally find the wherewithal to unmount from the shared jerk-off device. You slide out, letting him have the now much looser toy to himself. He smiles wanly up at you as you stand, your prick dripping slop right in front of his face. "That was so much fun, Ally. We should-- hup--!"
He squeaks in fright, when you loop your arms underneath his and haul him to his feet. The toy is still dangling on his cock, which is still hard and jutting out from his body. You bend Alex over his desk at a 90 degree angle, and spread his plump little ass.
"A-Ally... I j-just came, so... please d--"
You fuck your prick into his hot, tight pussy of an ass with one hard thrust. He seizes up with the sudden invasion, spine stiffening, and voice pinching off.
Reaching over his thin back, you find his mouse, and close the porn movie. Not your type of thing. Instead you'll initiate Alex into the joy of something more your speed, a hentai doujin about a cute boy who dresses as a girl and, with a just a bit of coercion, accepts being turned into a girl by a hard cock... it's educational. You type the address by memory and find the right doujin quickly, even as you establish a slow, steady pace inside Alex's taut asshole.
"Ally... it's big... it's too big right now..."
You hand him his mouse. "Read," you sneer.
"W-what?"
"Read with me while I fuck you."
You reach down and grip the onahole. You, Alabaster Soliloquy, you do have the goddamn common courtesy. You jerk Alex off for him while you fuck him. It doesn't take long before this breaks him down; he realizes that his choice is either to consent or get raped, but either way you're going to cum inside him. He wraps his hand around the mouse, and stares up at the monitor -- determined to enjoy himself, it seems.
"This manga is... so dirty..." he whispers.
"Yep."
He scrolls and clicks and reads at his own pace. You know the story by heart, so you just enjoy the art. All the while you enjoy the grippy insides of Alex's hole and the way your hands on the toy make his prick pulse. His voice is staccato and somewhat pained, but soon he's fucking back against you, the soft padding of his ass pressing into your thighs on every pump.
"That boy is so lucky..." Alex muses to himself, as he reads the lurid tale of a boy being turned into a wanton slut.
"You are too," you say. "You're just like him..."
"Yes... I am..." He looks back over his shoulder. "Make me into a girl with your cock, Ally~"
You shudder. Then comes the Alex Best special, a move that always leaves you weak in the knees. The muscles inside him undulate like a sine wave, so that your dick seems to be fucking itself into a never-ending tunnel. It's as if he's giving you a massage from inside his body, milking you off. You groan and stare at the ceiling. When Alex breaks this move out, it means he's close, too, and indeed he is. You pick up the pace to a jackhammer thrust and your fingertips against the top of the onahole feel sudden waves of warmth, translated through the elastic rubber. He's cumming again, cumming like a bitch as you rape him. That does it for you too. You lose your load inside this cute boy and turn him into the girl he wanted you to make him. You turn Alex into your little girly bitch hole. You jizz and jizz inside him until it feels like you'll pass out.
Sweaty and heaving, you collapse on top of him, and him atop the table. The doujin is open on a spectacular cumshot, but it couldn't possibly measure up to the load you just dropped in this boypussy of Alex's. You can't help nuzzling his neck. He coos happily back at you.
Finally finding some air, he asks: "What... did you come down here for...?"
"Whitney wanted you at the party," you say into his neck, voice muffled.
"Mm."
"Are you coming?"
"Just did~"
"You fucking whore."
"Hee hee."
"Are you gonna come upstairs or not?"
"Christmas isn't really my thing..."
You ruffle his hair. "Huh. Me either."
He struggles to turn his head, with your weight pressing down on him, but manages. He smiles at you. "We could hang out instead. Me and you."
"Fine by me. What do you wanna do?"
"Hee. How about we lock the door this time."
"So--"
"I wanna read more of your dirty manga, Ally."
---
On a certain sweltering evening in the late summer, you lie on your back on Whitney's bed with her riding your hard cock. She always cranks the thermostat way up before she fucks you so it gets as hot and humid as a jungle in her room during the sex act. She likes to trap the body heat and really work up a sweat when you fuck. She likes to feel it dripping off your bodies, likes the way it makes you slide frictionlessly back and forth against each other, likes the sticky feeling of wet sheets beneath her when you're on top. And she absolutely loves the smell of pheromones saturating the torrid air.
It would be a perfectly normal evening... if not for the fact that her mother is here too, kissing Whitney lewdly and rubbing Whitney's clit for her.
What started as a wholesome visit from Dr. Carte to your house to watch movies together as a family has turned into a mother-daughter threesome, not that you're complaining. Beads of Whitney's perspiration pearl on her suntanned body, run down it in streams and drip in fat dollops onto your bare chest, as her hot cunt makes slurping noises against your fat dick, and Dr. Carte strokes the point where you're joined. There's no doubt that Dr. Carte is skilled with her hands. She uses one to masturbate her daughter, and one to sweetly massage your testicles. Her brow is furrowed in focus, and she's doing her best to make sure you orgasm at the same time; that you shoot your seed inside her little girl and that her little girl cums around your twitching cock. She's just as naked as Whitney. The downy landing strip above her vulva is matted down with her need, and her womanly cunt leaking on Whitney's bedspread. Playing with you two always gets her going.
Playfully, she leans forward, and bites Whitney's nipple. This draws a pained hiss from the younger woman, then a peal of laughter, and her pussy tightens nicely around you with her surprise. "Mom, don't do that!"
"Why not? Your titties are way too fun to play with."
Dr. Carte punctuates this by running her hands across the globes of Whitney's size B tits, mashing them with the heels of her palms and rubbing them in rough circles around the areolae. This extremely heavy petting, or more like outright groping, makes Whitney throw her head back in a wincing shudder.
"I am so gonna get even with you for that!" She insists to her mother, even as she humps your prick with renewed energy.
"I look forward to it."
"I'm gonna sit on your face and make you suck Ally's cum out of my twat."
"That's not meant to be a punishment, is it?"
They briefly kiss before Whitney answers her mother: "no... I just like the way it feels..."
"Good. I like the way it tastes... I'll be happy to drink Alabaster's sperm out of your pussy for you. I'll drink your cum, too..."
They kiss again, more lingering and lewd. All this nasty talk between the two women has you almost ready to cum. It's too soon to cum, you want to enjoy yourself and draw it out... but you can't hold yourself back. You're too hot all over and your dick is feeling way too good inside Whitney. It's almost like she makes a game of trying to get you to orgasm more and more quickly each time you put your dick in her. She's so insatiably hungry for the feeling of your cum in her that she always wants it as soon as possible. Whitney, who tries so hard to present herself to the world as a serious, high-minded CEO, is privately a complete bitch for your cock -- and she loves it.
"Mmm," Dr. Carte moan-whispers in Whitney's ear. "I think Alabaster is getting close..."
"Uh huh," Whitney moans back. "I can feel his dick getting bigger inside me~"
"Lucky girl," Dr. Carte says, punctuating it with a pinch to her girl's clit that makes her giggle. "But that's not good, is it?" Dr. Carte fixes you in her gaze. "You don't want to be a quickshot, do you, young man?"
"I..." you grunt. "...Fuck... I can't help it..."
Dr. Carte uses her fingertips to tickle your nuts with frustratingly light circular motions. "Quickshot, quickshot," she repeats in a lilting tone. "Is my daughter's pussy really that good?"
"Yesss," you hiss.
"Well then." Dr. Carte laughs huskily. "If it's that good, do what you have to... cum inside her, then."
You tilt your head back and grab Whitney's hips and begin to pound upwards into her clamping cunt like you'll never fuck again. The meaty thwacking of it is nearly deafening.
Whitney, voice vibrating as you use her for stress relief, tells her mom: "I-it's f-f-f-fine..." She links hands with Dr. Carte and adds: "w-w-we'll k-ee-eep us-ing h-h-im aft-errr h-he c-c-cums--"
"Oh my," Dr. Carte says, putting a hand to her lips. "You don't want to tire the poor boy out, do you?"
"Oh y-yessss I d-dooo," Whitney says.
Even as she says this, you're losing your nut inside her, and Dr. Carte is massaging it out with one hand gently kneading your testicles. The sperm runs sloppily out of Whitney's hole and down over her mother's busy palm.
Once you're done spewing your load, Dr. Carte pulls her hand away and licks the mess off it. She swallows it greedily, and smiles while she does.
You lie there on your back enjoying the afterglow, and the slow little tremors of Whitney's insides around your still oozing dick.
Dr. Carte frenches her daughter while Whitney milks out these last dregs of your cum. "If you intend to wring him dry, I hope you find it in your heart to share him..." she tells Whitney.
"Of course. I'm not selfish." Their tongues entwine and swap saliva for a few moments.
Dr. Carte pulls back. "I hope you intend to share him right now, is what I mean."
"Heeh. Yeah -- sure..."
She swings one leg up and dismounts you. Strands of your jizz spiderweb off her little pussy lips and then snap as she rises to her knees. You try to rise with her, but Dr. Carte's hands are on your bare chest, pushing you back into the damp sheets, and then she's atop you.
"Give me a couple--" you begin.
"Shut up," Dr. Carte says. "Fuck me."
"I just--"
"I don't want to hear it. If you can cum inside my little girl, you can definitely cum inside me, too. Stop whining."
You shiver uncontrollably as Dr. Carte slips her mature pussy around your over-sensitive prick. She's really serious about it -- no rest for the weary.
Whitney curls three fingers into her puffy cunt and lazily masturbates for a minute or two while Dr. Carte establishes a steady rhythm on you. The give and plumpness of Dr. Carte's ass and thighs is nice padding for her weight pressing down on you, which is a fair bit heavier than her daughter was. It's sort of smothering, being ridden like this. But it's a gentle smother. You kind of like it. The commingled fluids from your mating session with Whitney provide extra lubrication inside Dr. Carte's already wet cunt, and you slide in and out with a delicious ease that soothes the sensitivity of your refractory period.
"Play with me, too," Dr. Carte says, half a command, half a plea. She takes your wrist and guides your hand to her massive, swaying udders. Her big pink nipples are too inviting to ignore, and you enjoy alternating between them, teasing them, which makes her grimace in pleasure.
Whitney cums hard as she watches you screwing Dr. Carte. She leans way back on one hand and sprays you both with her squirting cunt, like an animal marking territory. She does it just for the sheer, depraved hell of it, it seems. You and Dr. Carte only laugh as she hoses you down. What's a little more wetness in this sweltering sweatbox that already reeks of sex?
Having had a nice orgasm of her own, Whitney scoops your jizz from out of her pussy. She pinches her thumb and fingers together and dangles her hand above her upturned face, letting the slimy jism seep off the tips and over her flattened tongue. When she's got it all in her mouth, she closes her lips and makes rather a show of swirling it around, like using mouthwash. And then she circles around, grabs the back of her mother's head with her cum-slick hand, and locks lips with her. Mother and daughter snowball your cum between them, mewling and cooing their enjoyment.
"You naughty girl," Dr. Carte says gently, as she continues fucking you. "Alabaster made you into such a whore, didn't he."
Whitney nods. "Uh huh... and he made you a whore, too..."
Dr. Carte licks a dollop of your jizz off her daughter's lips. "How should we punish him?"
Whitney steals your cum back from her mother's mouth. "With our pussies, of course..." she whispers.
Dr. Carte's flattened hands form a diamond on your chest, and she presses down with all of her surprisingly considerable strength. She begins to hump you like a woman gone mad. You thought they were just talking dirty, but no, Dr. Carte is really trying to punish you with her pussy. These demented girls are using you as their living dildo, and you don't think you'll be getting free from this hard use anytime soon...
Whitney, returning Dr. Carte's favor of earlier, reaches between her mom's legs and plays with her clit while she rides you. Dr. Carte grins at her appreciatively. The extra stimulation makes her already swampy insides turn swampier. If you had to rate the differences between their two pussies, you would say Whitney's is tighter and more skilled at milking you; but Dr. Carte's is softer and hotter, and somehow more inviting. You can't put one above the other -- mother and daughter alike are a joy to nut in.
And so you are. Without realizing that it's coming, you're cumming. Your snarl in delirious pleasure and squirt Dr. Carte full, just like that. She keeps bearing down on you, riding you at a blistering pace, your dirty cum splattering all over in fat droplets. Your searching mouth finds one of her nipples and suckles while you sperm her. She pets your hair like encouraging a favored pet.
She gets off of you as soon as you're done orgasming inside her. You turn, rise to hands and knees, desperately try to crawl away. But Whitney is already after you. She grabs your ass and spreads it open and dives in, rimming you out while jerking your cum-coated prick with both her small, athletic hands. You shudder and groan, muscles weak. Meanwhile, Dr. Carte, sitting on her knees, strokes your chin. "Where do you think you're going?"
You respond only with ragged breaths and moans. Whitney's tongue inside your asshole leaves you utterly unable to speak. She's practically licking your prostate. And her corkscrewing hands are keeping your dick horny and hard while she orally services you.
Dr. Carte finally grants you a brief respite, though. She takes Whitney by the hand and guides her around. You fall prone, your muscles finally failing, you dick twitching.
Dr. Carte sits on her butt, resting against the bed's headboard. Whitney is on her back, head lying in Dr. Carte's lap. Dr. Carte reaches down and spreads Whitney's legs akimbo, beckoning you.
"Let's do a Fibonacci sequence," Dr. Carte says. "You came inside Whitney once, and then me once... now, cum inside Whitney twice... and so forth."
And so forth. 'So forth' would be... Dr. Carte 3 times, Whitney 5 times... Dr. Carte 8 times... it only gets more horrific from there.
And yet Whitney's wet, twitchy, tiny little cunt and asshole, being presented to you by her leering mother, are so tempting that you would happily accept this sweetly painful dick-punishment.
You get on top of Whitney and fuck your still turgid dick to the root up her hungry twat. She gazes lovingly up at you; you hold Dr. Carte's shoulders for balance while you fuck. Whitney coos and sighs like a little girl, a dreamy smile on her lips. You and Dr. Carte make out over her.
"Is this really punishment?" Dr. Carte wonders aloud. "Maybe we're being too nice to you, Alabaster... maybe we're rewarding this perverted dick instead of punishing it, huh?"
"Yeah..." you pant, like a horny dog. "Yeah, you are."
"That's okay," Dr. Carte says. "You're rewarding our perverted pussies, too..."
Whitney giggles. "Being perverted is fun, isn't it?"
"Extremely," Dr. Carte agrees. She thinks for a moment, then: "Baby, would you do me a favor? Would you eat me while Alabaster fucks you?"
Whitney is more than happy to oblige. You help turn her onto her stomach, and Dr. Carte spreads wide for her daughter's access. As you fuck Whitney doggy style, she feasts on Dr. Carte's motherly cunt. It's a meal Whitney clearly enjoys, because it has her pussy juicing up and cumming around your thrusting prick. You make out some more with Dr. Carte as you shoot your third load of the night directly inside Whitney.
Your head and shoulders slump, and you stop pumping. Dr. Carte isn't happy: "come on, now. You owe Whitney another load, young man."
You stare upward now, at the ceiling, silently praying for strength.
Dr. Carte cums messily all over Whitney's face as you dutifully begin round four. Whitney drinks it up with the same gusto she drank down your cum too. She loves eating cum: from a dick or from a pussy, it doesn't matter. After so many orgasms, your cock is tender almost to the point of soreness, and you can tell Whitney's pussy is the same way. You've been battering it for the better part of two hours with your massive dick, and what began the night as an almost painfully vice-tight orifice is beginning to go slack and bruised. Who's going to break first, you wonder: you, or Whitney and Dr. Carte? Maybe you'll all break -- maybe you'll fuck yourselves into a broken stupor, your cock drained and useless, Whitney and her mother broken way up deep inside. Maybe your dick will snap and their wombs will bruise. But it'll feel so good getting there that you no longer care. They don't, either. You all just want to fuck forever.
Dr. Carte presses her thighs down around Whitney's ears and begins to ride her face. "How did she get so good at eating pussy?" she asks you.
"Lots of practice," you grunt.
"I can tell," Dr. Carte purrs. "I guess she does take after me, after all..."
"You like eating pussy too?" You ask.
She kisses you tenderly. "It's an acquired taste... but yes... I like genitals, Alabaster -- and making them all excited with my tongue... gender doesn't particularly matter."
"Whitney really does take after you," you say. You stare into Dr. Carte's eyes. Then, spine going stiff -- "Ohhh fffuck-- oh, I'm cumming again--"
"So virile..." Dr. Carte breathes. She roots her tongue around in your mouth while you sperm Whitney once again, adding to the pool of milky slop inside her, while she herself tongues out her mother's gash.
You pull out with a wet plop, your dick still hard, but its nerves singing out for mercy. This is surely a violation of the Geneva Conventions. You clasp a sweaty palm to your sweaty forehead. But soon Dr. Carte's sweaty tit meat is pushing it away, and she's forcing her sweaty nipple into your mouth again. She's mounting you while you're defenseless, and before you can put up a protest, she's slipping your prick into her.
"Three for me now," she says in a deep, needful tone. "Don't pass out on me, now..."
She begins to slide wetly up and down on you. You're dripping, she's dripping, you feel like you've lost two pounds just through your pores and dick already.
Whitney stands upright on the mattress, having difficulty balancing but managing. She spreads her sopping, jizz-splattered pussy with both thumbs, juts her hips forward, and presses herself to her mother's face. "Quid pro quo," Whitney says. "That's biz lingo."
Dr. Carte latches her mouth on Whitney's cunt and starts to suck. All the while she gyrates and writhes and fucks your prick. You're woozy, seeing stars... but neither of them are showing any similar signs of tiredness. It's going to be a long night.