Sunday, May 1, 2016

Please, Stop Making Me Cum! Part 1

That was it, it was official. She was addicted to masturbating. And it was all because of that damnable plant!

It just sat there, silently mocking her with its presence, perched on its rock in the center of the pond, the squat column of its body nearly the same shiny blue as the surrounding water, the domed top sprouting an expanse of pink tendrils that waved in the air as if underwater. All this was seen between her legs, open and tensing rhythmically, as between one hand desperately worked her achingly hard cock towards yet another orgasm.

How many had she had? Three? Four? But she just couldn’t stop, it felt SO good, her own hand rubbing her shaft feeling like sex itself, her other hand in her pussy feeling like she was being eaten out by the most expert lover, all giving her so much joy it was pushing her right towards another, another… oh God!

Her legs tensed her off the ground as she cried out again, white hot bliss spurting out of her with each thrust of her hips into the air. Waves of pleasure rose and crashed within her, filling her so completely it overflowed and left her gasping with joy for what seemed like an eternity. And then it was over, yet still it kept going. Her hand kept going on her cock, the tickling oversensitivity of just cumming somehow lesser than the incredible pleasure her hands were still wringing from her cock, her pussy. She leaned forward and her fingers frantically reached lower, two fingers circling her rear, impatiently dipping in fingertips to stretch it as quickly as possibly so she could reach in and finger-fuck herself into another incredible orgasm that she prayed would be the end of it.

She had to stop, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop. And it was all because of that damnable alien plant!

*   *   *

“And I’ve shown you how to water the outside plants?” Professor Akume asked without looking up, her dark eyes and hands darting across the contents of the briefcase as she triple checked the papers and files and folders and datapads arrayed before her.

“Yes, Professor.” Sura repeated.

“And the hall ferns?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“And the kitchen vines?”

“Twice, Professor.”

“And the outside plants?”

“... Professor.”


Professor Akume looked up then, her attention caught by the break in the pattern, her thin glasses skewed on her face, her black hair slipping from its tight bun. It seemed to take her a moment to remember herself. “Er, yes? Ms. Sura?”

Sura waited just a moment more to make sure she had the Professor’s full attention, or at least most of it, before stating, “You’ve told me everything, Professor.”

“Oh,” the older woman mumbled, looking down and biting her lip, as she did when she was trying to remember what else she should be worrying about.

Sura added, “And you wrote it all down,” she held up a thick stack of hand-written notes.

“Oh, yes.”

“And emailed me,” Sura tapped her wrist-computer, a white holo-image of said email floating above the device, its several attachments hovering alongside.

“Oh… yes,” the Professor looked sheepish, momentarily deflated of her former nervous energy, “I… yes.”

“Don’t worry Professor,” Sura reassured, her kindness genuine but firm, “I can look after the place while you’re off exploring the depths of the universe.”

“It’s only Titan,” the Professor offered by way of defence.

“Yes, Professor, just a few moons and one holocall away if I need you. And I look forward to helping you study all the new alien plant life you’ll discover there. But if you don’t leave” Sura checked her wristcomp, “three minutes ago, then you’re going to miss your shuttle. Again.”

“Ah, yes… Yes!” the last word startled out of the Professor as all her frantic energy came back at once. She looked back down at the briefcase, reached out to check it again, slammed it shut instead and ran for the door.

“Tickets, Professor,” Sura called, the Professor’s retreating footsteps circling and returning with her to grab the tickets from where she’d left them on the kitchen counter, stopping just long enough to quickly hug Sura while mumbling some combination of ‘thank you’ and ‘call if you need me’ before properly leaving.

The sound of the front door slamming shut reached all the way back to where Sura still stood, in the spacious, modern and now much more quiet kitchen of Professor Akume’s home. Or, for the next six weeks, Sura’s home. Young Sura’s own, multi-million dollar, secluded, luxury home, fully stocked with every comfort money could buy and every fascinating alien plant as yet known to man. And there stood the young Xenobotanist Sura Ci with six weeks all to herself to enjoy it all. She smiled - but where to begin?

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