His hands are curled around the legs of the chair as he sucks my dick, that vibration in his throat and through his tongue growing stronger. He has no problem taking me all the way in. In fact, he seems to be enjoying himself this time.
Suddenly, I feel something inside of me tighten, wrapping around my chest and squeezing. My balls draw up, my breathing growing labored as the feeling spreads.
And then suddenly, untethered, it snaps.
I let out a shout as my cock explodes without warning. My ass lifts off the chair, tunneling a little further down his throat, and he swallows me all the way down. My back arches and cracks as my eyes roll into the back of my head.
“Oh fuck. Holy fuck,” I curse as I try to come down from the high of it. But it’s not ebbing away like it should.
And my cock doesn’t soften at all.
I have no relief from the orgasm. It goes on and on, stealing my breath and any semblance of sanity left in my head.
That band around my chest tightens once more, building pressure.
The Vyastil peers up at me, his lips still stretched around my dick, and I see his rainbow irises shimmering.
My lips part as he continues to suck on my cock, the sensation from coming still vibrating within me.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp. “What did you give me?” I groan louder as his tongue tightens in a circle around my dick, pulsing and milking it. “What kind of fucking plant was that?”
His eyes glint, then he closes them as he continues his work, relentless.
Desperate.
Hungry.
I explode again within seconds, my head slamming against the cold chair, wrists pulling tight against their restraints. The sting of pain threads with something deeper inside me. Something raw and electric, almost divine.
“Fuck. Me. What the hell!”
I moan as his hand leaves one of the chair legs and curls around my balls. They’re stiff and hard as he rolls them in his palm, squeezing them lightly as though he’s coaxing them to release more.
My cock erupts again, and I gasp as an even deeper sensation pulses through me. For a moment, I think I hear a voice.
“Well done, human. Give me everything you have. I need it.”
“I need you.”
But that can’t be real, can it? Does this herb cause hallucinations along with the endless supply of cum?
My next orgasm forces my breath to rattle around my chest, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
Christ, when he said it would be easier to milk me, I didn’t take it literally, but I probably should have because he’s getting a massive amount from my balls.
That herb must do something to humans, to their hormones, to put me in some kind of continuous state of cum production. I’ve never had this many orgasms in the span of…my eyes move to the timer, and I groan. Only five minutes have gone by?
I may not make it. I may die here, dick still spurting and body still arching toward him.
And the Vyastil doesn’t seem to care. He very clearly wants to milk me dry.
“I’m—oh fuck.” I buck and squirm.
He pulls another orgasm from me. My lips are cracked, my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth, and I can barely breathe. Air doesn’t leave my chest without a wheeze, which I know isn’t a good sign.
I want him to stop, but the thought of that is terrifying. My need to continue coming is too strong, and I need relief. I need him to suck me until there’s nothing in me to give.
Suddenly, his mouth disappears, his tongue unwrapping from around my dick. Drops linger on his bottom lip, and he swipes them away, his eyelids fluttering as he does.
