Priscilla’s Yacht

The typical work cycle in the United States is fundamentally a deformed institution, built on a premise of never actually rewarding work. I don't mean in the abstract sense of payment, but in the practical sense. When you finish repairing your car, or your roof, or your computer, you feel a sense of completion: the task is finished. You don't have to do it a second time. You're done, genuinely, and you can just stop. Human psychology is designed towards boom-bust cycles of labor, where there are periods of intense labor followed by periods of lazy recreation and free time. Most of our ancestors, throughout most of history, didn't work nine-to-five, because they worked for themselves, so when they finished their work, they stopped working.

Unfortunately, a complex array of norms and counterproductive cultural institutions has infested the entire economic system of the United States. People work nine-to-five, and when you finish any given task, you're simply given a new task. Nobody says, "Good work on fixing that problem, why don't you call it a day here?" If they did, we would only be suspicious they wanted us to leave so they could dock our pay. Even at a restaurant, if you finish cleaning the kitchen in record time and decide to take a moment to chat with your friends, you're more likely than not going to see a micromanaging business owner appear to declare that if you have time to lean, you have time to clean.

This creates a situation wherein work is not rewarded. Even when you have work that is explicitly complete, where you really can't be given more - and I was pretty much finished with the accounting work for the year, other than what couldn't be done until January when all the numbers were firmly in - you have to stay at work. I had quite literally logged out of my work account, purely so that Xico didn't have to hover over me to confirm I wasn't stealing from the company funds. There was an active record that I was done with work... but they didn't let me go home.

Perhaps they were worried about some accounting emergency, and needed me on call. Who knows? The numbers on the spreadsheet might spontaneously catch fire, or perhaps Congress would pass a law which required every business in the country to put in an entirely new set of documents by tomorrow.

In any case, I was feeling bored and listless when Priscilla pressed the door to my office open, a single finger pushing against it. She offered me a dry smile as I glanced up at her, and away from the test on which video game character you were. "Afternoon, Roger. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"You weren't," I reassured her. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering - are you the sort of man who prefers to receive some expensive outfit that makes every woman who looks at you have their jaw drop, or an exquisitely and well-planned date, as a present?"

"Depends on how the date ends," I said, with a shrug.

"Oh?" She asked, idly pushing the door closed behind her, then leaning against it, a smirk on the lips. "How do you mean?"

"I can buy nice outfits for myself, but I suppose I don't know the local fashion that well." It looked broadly similar to my own Earth's, but when men were trying to show off their bodies and women were aiming more for comfort and functionality, there were a lot of differences. "On the other hand, a date with a beautiful woman can be very pleasant at the end."

"Ah, I believe I see. You're saying you only prefer a date if it ends in sex?" She quirked an eyebrow. She strode over to me, placing one finger down on my desk as she leaned over it. "Is that what you're saying, Roger? I'd like you to... spell it out for me."

There was something deeply seductive about Priscilla's casual confidence and open sexuality, and my cock was hard in my pants. "It is."

"Hmm..." She pulled back, placing her hand against her cheek contemplatively for a moment. "I did want to see you all dressed up again... you really have no sense of style, you know?"

"I'm well aware," I said, earning an honest chuckle from her.

"Ah, well. I suppose that I have no choice." She sat down across from me, lacing her fingers together as she planted her elbows on the table. "Might I please, Mr. Cooper, have the pleasure of another date with you? I promise, it'll end in sex," she said. The words came out casually, friendly. "It'll be something extra special - I want it to count as your Christmas present, after all."

"Ah, sure, what time?"

"Oh, I was thinking of taking you on a cruise this weekend, to be honest," she told me. "My personal yacht." She idly swept a finger along the surface of the desk. "Just the two of us, some drinks, some delicious food, and the wide open sea. It should be clear skies this weekend, and if it isn't, there's still the inside of the yacht to enjoy."

"I'm going to be honest," I said, and she looked modestly unhappy to hear those words, "I'm not the kind of person who goes on cruises. It's just really expensive to not have the internet."

She let out a small laugh at that, then sighed, sitting down on the edge of the desk. "Hm. But you'll have me at your disposal?" She said. "Your total disposal, since this would be a gift." Her tongue flashed along her lips, quite a bit longer than a normal tongue as if in open demonstration of what she meant. "And my yacht does get the internet on it, for when you're so utterly exhausted from me draining you dry."

"Does it have a TV?" I asked, making her laugh.

"Yes. It has a TV. You can bring your video games, Roger. I'll consider it my duty, as the gift-giver, to distract you from them, though." I had a momentary twitch of arousal at those words - imagining Priscilla sucking me off as I played video games - and she seemed to notice it. "Oh? That sort of thing, I see," she said, humming and nodding to herself. "You enjoy being 'dragged into it'. Not an uncommon preference among men."

The line made me feel mildly tweaked, so rather than note her misunderstanding, I corrected her gendered expectations. "I'm pretty sure there's plenty of women who get off on the idea of a guy begging them to fuck him."

She chuckled at that. "True. I suppose both men and women do like to be desired, and I..." she leaned in towards me, until we were almost nose to nose, "desire you." Her fingertips trailed gingerly across my neck, sending soft goosebumps across my skin, until she pulled me into a kiss at last, her tongue hungrily exploring my mouth a moment later. I just groaned and enjoyed the sensation for a few seconds, before her tongue pulled back out and she withdrew with a wet pop. "Au revoir, Roger," she said, with a wink, even putting a bit of movement into her hips to invite my gaze to her ass as she left.

* * *

Priscilla greeted me at the docks, guiding me out to her yacht with her fingers wrapped tight around my hand. It was a decently sized thing - not some gargantuan monstrosity, but the cabin inside was bigger than my apartment. "It's all topped up," she told me. "And I do, in fact, know how to handle it on my own, so it can just be the two of us." She paused for a moment, glancing at me. "Unless you'd like another warm body or two?"

The way she asked had an obvious hint of sexual suggestiveness, but I had no idea which way. "How do you mean?"

"Mm, well, for example, we might want Blake here. He's the man I call when the boat needs repairs, about your age, quite attractive." She could see I didn't particularly care for that suggestion. "Ah, I see. My apologies, Roger; I think I misread your tastes at least some small bit."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. She didn't mention bringing a woman aboard, so we soon set off into the Atlantic, getting a decent way away from the shoreline before she finally got off the controls.

"Well, here we are," she said, simply pulling off her dress and revealing she was wearing a bikini underneath it. It wasn't some string bikini or anything - it was rather stylish, and covered up more than most back home - but she still looked drop-dead gorgeous in it. "I think we ought to get to putting on suntan lotion on one another - I'd hate for you to get sunburned. Oh, and don't worry, I brought a few different swimsuits for you to try on - you can keep any of them you like."

"I am just now noticing that you're suggesting this in New York in the middle of November," I told her, and she chuckled at that.

"Don't worry," she said. "My power, remember?" She took my hand in hers, gently rubbing her thumb against my palm, and I felt my body grow warm, my extremities too. "Your body will burn a few more calories than normal, but we've got plenty to eat regardless," she told me, licking her lips. "Now come on, I want to see you dressed up sexy," she said, one hand going for my shirt's top button, playing with it for just a moment, her eyes staring into mine before she decided she did have my consent, at which point she promptly started stripping me.

She was hungry with the movements, pulling away at my clothes then running her fingers along the exposed, bare skin, her dark fingers contrasting my own skin tone. Her breath faintly tickled at my skin as she leaned in towards me appreciatively, occasionally giving my body a kiss or nibble of appreciation, which had me hard - and which she recognized had me hard, getting her more intense. By the time my shirt was off, I was rock hard, and she leaned up into my ear, her breath a soft whisper. "So... what do you want to do, Roger?" She asked me, and my body felt warm despite the cool air biting at us both. "We can do anything you like out here..."

The line made me almost want to splash cold water on her by suggesting playing video games, but her outfit, and her obvious lustful movements, had my thoughts going straight to sex. "The problem with sex with you," I told her, and she smiled at that, raising an eyebrow expectantly, "is you really do your best to drain me totally dry."

"You didn't seem to mind coming your brains out too much, the last time we did that," she said, kissing my neck. "But if you want to do something else - well, I am a superheroine. I'm hardly going to force a man into something he's uncomfortable with. We can do it more normally, if that's your preference."

"No, I just don't want to lose track of time, fuck every last calorie out of my body, and then fall asleep afterwards."

"I see. In that case - a wonderful little device called a 'timer' exists, you know," she told me. "Shall we?" She asked, pulling away for a moment to take my hand, drawing me along with her down into the yacht's innards, soon dragging me over to the bed. "Just lie down," she said, admiring my half-naked body, collecting my phone and unlocking it with ease. A few scant seconds later, she had the clock app open. "Ten minutes? Twenty? Thirty?" She asked.

I tried to think back to our previous lovemaking sessions, to guesstimate how long it would take for me to be completely enervated versus just pleasantly finished. I slowed down time as I flicked through the various memories, before at last I decided - "Ten minutes."

"And done," she declared, putting my phone down. She got up on the bed with me, kissing me hungrily on the lips as her fingers slid down towards my groin, popping the button on my pants and then hooking her thumb into pant and underwear both, peeling them down together. My cock was soon bouncing free, hard and hungry for her, and she started to stroke it as she kept up the kiss, animalistic. "You like swimwear," she breathed out. "I could tell," she noted, kissing at me again.

"I just like-" another hungry kiss, "you," I completed, and I didn't need any touch-based biokinesis power to tell that those words got her horny. Her kiss got more intense, and her stroking on my cock got more vigorous, pumping up and down my length. She broke off the kiss. "You're hot."

"Words like that... mn..." she glanced at the timer. "I almost want to drag it out, but there is that timer, so I suppose I really have no choice," she said, pulling her bikini's bottom down hurriedly, revealing her pink sex. She hadn't altered her body at all, as she moved to ride me cowgirl, fingers sliding across my bare chest with obvious desire as she pointed her sex at my cock. She didn't need her hands to guide it in - her pussy and my cock both seemed to seek one another out, as if they were magnetically attracted to one another, but that didn't keep her absorption of my cock from feeling intense and exquisite, making me groan as my hips bucked up against hers. "I want to make you come your brains out," she told me, her voice voracious, hungry, full of completely naked lust, her eyes wild with carnal desire.

"Go ahead," I told her - and instantly, the pleasure of her tight sex intensified to a superhuman level, and my cock began to just gush cum out, spraying it all over her insides, making her groan in pleasure in response to the sudden splatter of cum. "Fu~uck," I sighed.

"That's what I'm doing," she teased, leaning over me, nibbling at my earlobe before starting to whisper in my ear, as she kept just milking me with the assistance of her power. "I'm fucking you, Roger. I'm draining you dry. This big, fat cock of yours, is getting drained dry by me," she explained, obviously relishing the intensity of the moment, as well as the fact that I wasn't currently able to speak. "I love making you come," she breathed. "You're so uninhibited. Most men try it out and feel all embarrassed after the fact. Even when they come, they try to hold back all the cute, sexy noises they make. The only man I recall who was completely uninhibited on that front was deaf - but not you, Roger. You're happy to come your brains out. It's nothing weird. Nothing to be resisted. Just come, and come," she breathed. "Gush. Let it go."

I had no idea how much of her words were truth and how much were just seductive sweet nothings, but either way, my cock was certainly erupting inside her, letting out what felt like a firehose of semen as it splashed all over her pussy. I felt her cunt fill up, and then start to leak, from the quantities of cum I was depositing inside her, thick globs of cum slowly slithering out of her pussy in intermittent gushes, sliding down her inner thighs towards me, soon sticking us together uncomfortably. I wiggled in place, and she grunted. "Right, you don't like feeling your own seed. That's a cute little contrast," she said, as the sensation seemed to vanish. I glanced down at my pelvis, and it looked like my cum was getting absorbed by her thighs just before it could actually touch my skin. "You love to spray it all over though, don't you?"

"I do," I groaned in agreement, nodding rapidly. My head was a fog of blissful pleasure as she kept milking me like that, her teeth pulling at my earlobe.

"I might just let you come all over me," she whispered in my ear a moment later. "All you have to do is say - Please."

"Please," I breathed out, the word seeming like it had to be physically pushed up my throat and out my mouth due to the constant spasming of my cock. My orgasm felt like it finally finished, leaving me sitting there, and she clambered up and off my cock for a moment. "Titfuck?" I suggested wearily, and she chuckled at that.

"Alright, Roger - hm." She contemplated her own breasts for a moment, then shrugged, taking off her top. Her breasts soon swelled, up past even Kate's in size, large and round and firm, and she leaned into my pelvis with them, wrapping the dark chocolate orbs around my hard cock. "Here it is," she breathed, starting to pump her tits up and down my cock. "Here's that titfuck you love so much, you rapacious little slut," she said.

Before I could offer any response, I started to come again, just spraying out copious amounts of cum. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, and my cum splattered all over her: cheeks, chin, nose, face, eyes, and of course plenty splattered back down on her tits. Occasionally, I'd feel one splatter go wide and land on my stomach, but then it would vanish a moment later, as if she'd somehow absorbed the semen up herself. I lost track of time as I geysered all over her face and tits - and then the alarm went off, beeping loudly, demanding attention.

At that point, she sighed, pulling back her tits from where they surrounded my cock. I began to recover, and could look down at her. She looked absolutely gorgeous like that, her face and the tops of her full tits practically painted white with my cum. Her face was completely obscured from my view, and her tits looked almost like they had a paint bucket dumped on them, for how thoroughly white the top half was. Cum slowly dripped down from her face, from her chin, and from her tits, making her look completely obscene - particularly given just how large her breasts currently were, full and round.

"Enjoy the view?" She asked, sitting there - I noticed, then, that our ankles were touching, meaning she could feel my arousal and interest. "If you want, we can go a second round," she noted, her tongue twisting out past her lips, lashing along her face to collect a solid smattering of my cum. When she felt my reaction to the show, she chuckled and got more lascivious with it, slithering her tongue lovingly across her breasts, scooping up semen with her fingertips before depositing it in her mouth. "It is delicious, by the way," she noted. "If that's the sort of thing that gets you off." It most certainly did - by the time she was finished cleaning her face off, part of me was raring for a second round.

The rest of me remembered that I was going to be here for a couple more days, and probably I shouldn't spend literally the entire first day just gushing cum all over her tits and face. There was a decent chance I'd die, for one. More importantly, I wanted to enjoy other parts of the trip other than fucking Priscilla, even if she was nice. "I did bring my gaming console," I told her, making her laugh at that.

"You do like those games, mm?" She teased. "As I recall, Nora asked me to transform her into some game character... Jaja, I believe?"

"Yeah," I said, as I gingerly pulled myself up from beneath her. She let out a sigh as I did so, accepting the action for what it was: a pretty explicit statement that she wasn't going to be getting any more right away. I slithered my way back into my underwear, and she scooped off a few more thick dollops of cum before finally just making it all seemingly vanish into thin air. Her eyes met mine, smoldering with lust, suggesting I come right back to the bed - but instead I went to the "entertainment room," and plugged in my console, getting out the space flight simulator game and leaning back in my seat to play it.

After a few minutes of Priscilla getting herself dressed - albeit, in her whatever it is interested her, she sat down on the couch next to me. "I do appreciate that you at least didn't get fully dressed," she said, as she idly tossed one arm over my shoulder.

"I feel hot, remember?" I prompted her.

"Well, yes," she added, smiling, then leaning in to kiss my neck. "Ah. I suppose it's as good a time as any to mix us both up some protein shakes," she said, standing up. "They're about the thickest ones ever made by men," she noted, as she walked towards the door. Trust me, you'll be wanting the extra calories later."

"I'll bet," I agreed. I honestly wanted the extra calories now: she'd drained my balls dry and with my metabolism kicked into high gear by the heat-up thing, I was feeling hungry already. On screen, I was blasting space pirates for bounties from the galactic federation, and I heard the blender running. When she returned with a tall glass of brown smoothie, I gulped it down readily. It tasted surprisingly good - though I also noticed she had one hand on my shoulder, which was probably responsible.

She sipped her own glass as she watched me play the game - though when I say "watched me play," I mean "watched me play," not watched the actual game. Her eyes ran up and down my half-naked body, her breathing not exaggeratedly shallow but obviously driven by an intense, quiet longing to drag me right back to the bedroom and have more sex. I decided to give her something to chew on other than my naked body. "Haven't you actually contacted aliens?" I asked, as I blew another space pirate into tiny little pieces. "What's up with the SF games looking just like the ones in my world? I mean, the properties aren't the same," I corrected, "but I haven't seen a taliké in any games I've played."

Priscilla let out a small laugh at that. "Well... you're playing the wrong sorts of games for that, I can promise you," she said, a playful grin at that. "It's a bit like being mystified as to why there aren't Frenchmen in a Lord of the Rings video game, and instead there are elves and dwarves and orcs," she explained. "To be fair, I don't know the video game community that well," she explained, leaning up in her seat, in the process making her tits heft up in the swimsuit she was wearing - very specifically to attract my attention, I'm sure. "But in cinema, they call it speculative space versus space fantasy. Speculative space was all the rage back in the 50s and 60s, shortly after the first public contact between Earth and the stars, but it has all these annoying, anti-drama elements to it. Outside the occasional failed invasion, I suppose, but that's a different genre altogether. More superhero than..." she gestured at the screen, where I was purchasing new thrusters for my space fighter.

"There are surprisingly few superhero games, too," I added. "I mean, there's some, but not that many.

"It shouldn't be that surprising. It's - what is that term? Merely real? It's the same way that all those fantasy novels feature the protagonist eagerly learning the ins and outs of magic, yet the reader fails to bother to become a real scientist. The fantastical form of a superhero makes for an alright story, but the reality is we mostly fight a handful of strong opponents. I don't think video games are generally of that form."

"There's boss rush games," I said. Priscilla just shrugged in response. She didn't seem to know video games that well. "One thing I remember you mentioning is that you wanted to distract me from the games?" I pointed out.

She blinked at that - then her eyes widened, a smile curling across her features. "Oh. You took it like that," she breathed, licking her lips hungrily. "Mmm, you are just the horniest man I've ever been with," she said, reaching down for my groin, stroking my cock through my pants, getting me very quickly hard. "You thought I was going to distract you, as in, you were going to be playing your little games, and I was going to be playing my own little game: make Roger lose. Is that it?" I nodded, and she hooked one finger into the waistband of my underwear - then paused. "Actually, you know, I do like the briefs, but I'm in a swimsuit. You should be in one too." She hopped up at that point, vanishing for a couple minutes, before coming back. "Here you are," she said. "Pick whichever you think suits you best."

The three options were tight swimming trunks, the sort that clung to your thighs; the sort that most closely resembled briefs, other than being a bit tighter; and something that could only really be called a thong. I chuckled at the selection, then picked the briefs. I figured she deserved at least a good show, though I did cheat her out of it by facing away and using my superspeed to give her only a quick flash of the ass. I figured that the mystique would probably do her better than just flat out showing off.

Of course, the other thing I found, as I slipped into her swimwear, was that it was shockingly comfortable. I bounced in place for a moment, and despite sporting a hard-on in tight confines, it felt comfortable and smooth on my cock. "This feels good," I noted, idly pulling at the waistband, letting it snap back into position.

"I do know fashion," she said, with a smile, "and I also know that you're not the sort of man who wears clothes unless they're comfortable, too." Her gaze went to my pelvis, as I sat back down on the couch, picking up the controller, and once again, she reached out to start stroking my length through my pants, fingers trailing up and down it. "I'm surprised you pick this one," she noted. "I figured you would go for the trunks." She leaned in, nibbling on my earlobe for a moment before whispering in it. "Though, I must confess - I bought the thong, just so this wouldn't seem quite so unreasonable, purely in the hopes that you would pick it."

I swallowed at that point, as much because of her words as because her fingers pulled down the swimsuit, letting my hard cock burst free again. She idly considered it, stroking my length, her gaze turning back to mine as she started to jerk me off, a sly smirk on her lips. "Play your game as long as you want, Roger," she said. "I won't stop you. In fact, would you like me to make it so that your body doesn't twitch and buck as I jerk you off?" She asked, a grin on her lips.

I could guess why she wanted to do that: so that when I finally did stop playing to have sex, it was because of pure desire, rather than because my body was twitching too much to play. Still, I nodded anyway, and she grinned at that. A moment later, my whole body calmed, my hands playing the game with practiced ease, even as Priscilla kept softly stroking my cock, fingers sliding up and down my length, her gaze on my face as she worked me over.

My pleasure rose with each passing stroke, as she jerked me off. My body remained still, my focus on the TV screen and my controller, as I dive-bombed space carriers and twisted out of the way of enemy fire. Meanwhile, I felt the delicate movement of her fingertips in exquisite, insane detail. I could practically make out her fingerprints, as she jerked me off, her tongue flashing along her lips invitingly, her breathing growing shallow as she was obviously getting more and more aroused from playing with me.

"Enjoying yourself?" Her voice was quiet, but had that deeply seductive note to it despite it. "Don't worry. Just keep playing your game, Roger. I'll make sure you don't make a mess when you come, if you want," she said, and I grunted my affirmative response, nodding along. She licked her lips, her grin growing more voracious, as her fingers stroked my cock faster and faster. "At any moment, I could make you come," she breathed out, leaning into me, practically whispering in my ear. Her words were obviously as much for her own fantasies as any of mine. "I could make you come. I could make it the most powerful orgasm of your life. Your brain would melt with pleasure, but you wouldn't even twitch or jerk. Not spill a single bit of cum on the floor. You'd just utterly, completely, lose yourself, to pleasure," she noted, her breathing heavy as she got towards the end.

Then she actually did it, making me orgasm. It was like she said - to all outward appearances, I didn't orgasm, but inside, my head swam with pleasure. I managed to hit the pause button on my controller and ride out the pleasure she inflicted, my whole body twitching as she became clearly ever more aroused from the show I was putting on, her thighs clenching and unclenching in quiet self-stimulation as she watched. She leaned in towards me, kissing at my neck softly, her lips pressing inward, as my orgasm just... went on. And on. And on. "Just say the word, and it'll stop, Roger," she told me. "It's your Christmas present. You set the time table, remember. Or do you want a timer?" She had an audible smile in her voice, as she expanded on the thought. "Ten minutes of orgasm? Twenty? Thirty?" She teased, as I continued to experience seemingly endless pleasure.

I decided to answer her question a different way, just grabbing the back of her head and hurriedly directing her down towards my groin. She let me slip my cock right past her lips, and the pleasure was unbelievably intense. I could practically feel every little groove and divet on the inside of her mouth and throat, as I grunted and bucked my hips against her face. It wasn't some autonomic reaction: it was pure, desperate, cerebral desire to actually fuck her mouth and throat, to complete the sequence of sensations that she'd been inflicting on me up until that point. I was panting for air as I did it, losing myself in the moment, thrusting away, my pleasure washing over my mind. I was coming without actually ejaculating, and it was just continuing to go, as I pumped Priscilla's face up and down my cock.

She was still in that swimsuit, my brain only halfway aware of those signals rather than the expression of her face, one of naked, rapturous pride as she got throatfucked like that, glancing up at me out of the corner of her eyes, eventually - after some completely incomprehensible period of time - sliding off the couch down onto her knees to sit in front of me and let me fuck her face more easily, making the thing more comfortable for her as well. She started adding more pleasure in, once she was in that position, too: not by tweaking my nerves, but by swallowing around my length, or sliding her tongue back and forth on the underside of my cock, looking up at me with the smuggest expression in her eyes as I fucked her face like that.

I wound up standing up, too, just ramming away as I lost myself in the moment completely, my brain seeming like it was positively melting from how long the pleasure had gone on, my balls slapping at her chin as I roughly fucked away. When my orgasm finally - finally - ended, I just fell down on the couch, panting for air. I hadn't exerted myself particularly hard, but the sudden sensation of no longer coming felt something like peeling off your socks, a sensation of pure, raw relief as I laid there. "Mmm, did I end it too soon?" She teased, still kneeling in front of me, giving the tip of my cock a quick peck. "Or juuuust right?" She teased, looking up at me.

"That was - perfectly timed," I decided on. "Fuck. You really do have the most... enervating, sexual tastes."

"Mm? It shouldn't have been too exhausting, you just pumped your hips at my face for about-" she glanced at her wrist, "-three minutes." It was literally impossible for me to imagine it had been only three minutes, and she chuckled as she saw my face.

"Psychologically," I said, a moment later, and she smiled at that, settling back down on the couch next to me, putting her shoulder against mine. "Fuck."

"That's what I like to do," she agreed. "I'm almost forgetting this is your Christmas present, Roger," she noted. "Play what you like. We'll do it again when you want, how you want," she promised, and I unpaused the game, starting to play it again.

Of course, with a woman as beautiful as Priscilla sitting next to you, obviously wanting to make you come your brains out again - well, it's hard to resist.

The next chapter is available on my Subscribestar. It features Nora offering Roger perpetual blowjobs as his Christmas present. You can access it at this link for only $3. Chapters will be posted on Subscribestar a week in advance.