That was it, it was official. She was addicted to masturbating. And it was all because of that damnable pl - “aaah, aaah!”
She was seated on one of the rocks edging the pond, her legs propped open and her torso leaned forward between them. One hand frantically thrust on her cock even in the aftershocks of her last orgasm, two fingers of her other hand spiralling just inside of her rear, having finally stretched herself just enough to let her two fingers sink inside.
“AaaaOH!” she cried as her fingertips found her prostate, sending the pleasure of her cock spasming throughout her body. This time would be the last time, this time it’d be over! God, it had to be over!
It had taken only two days to do this to her. She realized now that she’d been hooked ever since that first amazing orgasm in the shower, thinking about it all night, all the next day, doing all her other chores so she could feed the blue and pink milk-drinker last of all, looking forward to what came next. She’d worn only her underwear as she approached it, one beaker overflowing with milk, the other empty and waiting. It had quivered at her arrival, lapping up the milk she’d offered, its whole body vibrating with each joyful gulp, still gulping at the air afterwards. And her hope had been rewarded as she offered the empty beaker, one tentacle obligingly curling into it, its end whitening and flowing out a much more generous serving of the ‘mostly milk’ than before. And Sura had drunk it all, that sweet richness feeling physically delicious as it flowed down her throat, spreading out within her, reaching lower.
She’d barely managed to make it to the edge of the pool before it was too much for her to take. The first touch of her fingers on her chest had buckled her legs, leaving her kneeling and shaking as both her hands reached lower.
She thought it had been good before! This time, this time she hadn’t been able to stop at one, her hands refusing to stop it felt so good, not until she’d forced another even bigger orgasm out of her bucking body. Gods she’d never felt so good! Until today at least.
Today the plant had drunk an entire carton of milk, still greedily gulping for more as it extended its tentacle and filled her beaker to the brim. And Sura had drank it all!
Stupid girl, stupid, stu… pid… God right there! Her fingers were thrusting into her rear, pounding on her prostate, her hips flinching every time as her other hand unstoppably worked her shaft. God she couldn’t take it, couldn’t....
She opened her eyes, seeing Desyre straddling her, pale arms holding her shoulders, pale legs straddling hers, tattooed breasts rising and falling as her roommate thrust on Sura’s cock.
“Ah, fuck, Desy, fuck!” was all Sura could manage, feeling so much pleasure from her hand that it was easy to believe it was her roommate's pussy enveloping her, frantically thrusting her inside, the sound of her own palm smacking against the wet lips of her pussy easy to imagine as the sound of their hips slapping together as their bodies joined over and over and over. “Desy, fuck, I -”
“Shhh,” Desyre cooed, one pale finger on Sura’s lips as her other hand reached back. Her white spiralled breasts were pushed forwards towards Sura’s face, pink nipples just out of reach, as Desyre’s back arched to let her hand reached lower behind her. The thrusting in Sura’s rear picked up a notch as she imagined Desyre’s hand taking over, her pale fingertips thrusting straight inside and pounding harder, faster, fingertips thrusting right into Sura prostate in time with the frantic thrusting of her cock.
“Ah, God, yes, God!” Sura cried, staring at Desyre’s white spiralled breasts right before her, desperately wishing she could touch them, suck her little secrets out, “Desy, I, I”
“I want you too, Sue.”
“Fu, aa, say, say -”
“I love your cock!”
“Say, aa -”
“I love you too, my Sue.”
“Fu, AAAA!”
Her whole body unclenched at once, arching back away from the first violent spasm of bliss shooting out of both her sexes. Her body kept bucking, causing a strangled cry each time, Sura barely able to breathe in before her voice was wrenched out of her as the pressure burst out of her over and over, feeling like it would never end.
But it wasn’t enough.
She lay there, on her rock at the edge of the pool, her arms propping her up against the floor as her torso heaved in between. Her head was lolled back, and it was only with the greatest effort she was able to pull it forward again, looking down her sweat-soaked chest to between her legs, where her cock still stood fully hard.
“What - the - fu-”
She was panting too hard to speak. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, colored an exhausted deep blue, yet still streaked with bright pink desire. Her cock twitched again, her breath catching as she reflexively tried to bring her hand round to see to it. But her arm wouldn’t move, locked straight propping up her torso, her body apparently lacking the energy to move from this position.
She was exhausted, her arms too tired to do anything of use even if they could move. And she was still rock hard, still desperate to touch herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid....
She looked up from her impossible erection to see the plant, perched there on its rock, its pink tendrils waving softly above it, their taut skin looking so smooth, catching the light as they waved and curled at the air, as if gripping, sliding. Now it was just mocking her! Well she’d show it!
With a long groan of effort she managed to push herself forward just enough to slide down the smooth wet rock and into the pond. Her body shivered, the warm water cool against her flushed skin. The weightlessness and invigorating cool gave her body a new burst of strength, enough at least for her to wade slowly towards the large central rock where the plant perched.
She felt bad about what she was about to do, staring up at the waving pink tendrils, their skin glistening as they waved and coiled and tugged the air, all without apparent direction nor purpose. She felt bad that she actually thought it was calling out to her, tantalizing her with coils of sliding pink and thrusts of white-tipped tendrils. But she knew that anything sexual there was purely the result of her own desperate imagination - the plant wasn’t actually asking her to use it to get herself off! She wasn’t even sure if the forest of pink directionless movement could get her off, hoping only it’d do most of the work for her. She rationalised this - and the fact that she'd spent time rationalising this was a huge problem in itself - in two ways:
Firstly, it was a plant, intelligent yes but not sentient in any way. Even if it had emotions they were basic - a desire to feed and maybe some dim recognition of her as a source of food, nothing more. Secondly, it was all the stupid plant’s fault anyway! The damnable plant had tricked her, by… by letting her drink too much of its liquid to cause this insatiable erection.
Okay, so it wasn’t a very good reason. Deep down she knew her current state was no-one’s fault but her own. It was she who’d started feeding it more milk, she who’d started drinking more, she who’d spent the last two days furiously masturbating in front of the plant, pleasuring her body in every way she most liked as it silently sat there, watching. She was the only one to blame here.
Sura reached the rock. Her tired arms complained bitterly with the effort of heaving her body up out of the water and onto the edge of the rock, the rest of her body complaining almost as loudly as she stood up. There was just enough room to stand next to the plant, its pink tendrils waving ecstatically before her, even though she wasn’t holding any beakers.
“Sorry buddy,” she apologized, “you’re not going to get fed again.”
Little did she know how totally wrong she was.
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