Chapter 32: Prostate Pioneers
The wet slap of flesh against flesh echoed off the glass walls of Silas’s office, a counterpoint to the distant city hum. Rowan’s powerful hips pistoned, driving her thick, blunt-tipped shaft deep into Silas, who was bent over the cool chrome edge of her minimalist desk. Papers rustled beneath her clenched fists. Each thrust elicited a guttural groan from the director, a sound ripped from somewhere low and primal. Her green eyes, usually sharp as cut glass, were glazed, unfocused.
"Fuck, Rowan! Right there," Silas gasped, arching her back, pressing her substantial D-cups flat against the scattered storyboards. "Don't stop. Don’t you fucking stop." A sheen of sweat coated her pale skin, catching the afternoon light. Beneath her tailored skirt, the subtle bulge of the large silicon plug she habitually wore was visible. Gabby, barefoot on the polished concrete floor, circled them like a predator, her phone held steady. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back, framing the incredible swell of her G-cup breasts. A thin trickle of milk dampened the lace edge of her bralette. Her own small, flaccid cock stirred slightly beneath the silky shorts she wore.
"Getting it all, Silas," Gabby murmured, her voice husky with arousal. She zoomed in on the juncture where Rowan's impressive girth disappeared into Silas, then panned up to capture the raw ecstasy on Silas’s face, the taut muscles in Rowan's back straining. "The angle… the way she hits you… it’s fucking primal. Viewers won’t know what hit them. Male pleasure? They’ll be lining up." Gabby licked her lips, already tasting the phantom tang of cum on her tongue. Her ass still throbbed faintly from Silas’s earlier attentions in the marble bathroom, a pleasant echo beneath the new heat coiling in her belly.
Rowan’s breathing was ragged. Her blonde hair clung in damp strands to her flushed forehead. She focused entirely on the rhythm, on the tight heat clenching around her, fighting the familiar, frustrating build-up that seemed to plateau just before release. The removal of her glans had dulled the peak, turning climax into a distant mountain shrouded in fog. She gritted her teeth, driving harder, chasing the elusive peak Silas was cresting with every stroke. Sweat dripped from her chin onto Silas’s back.
"Harder, Rowan!" Silas demanded, her voice cracking. "I’m so fucking close! Need you to… ah! AH!" Her body locked, a series of violent tremors wracking her frame as she came, her internal muscles spasming around Rowan’s cock, pulling a ragged moan from the blonde shemale. Silas collapsed forward, panting, her cheek pressed to a glossy poster of one of her earlier hits.
Rowan slowed, then stilled, her own frustration a palpable heat radiating off her. She remained buried deep, her erection unwavering but unsatisfied. "Fuck," she muttered, resting her forehead against Silas’s shoulder blade. "Almost. It’s… it’s right there."
Silas turned her head, her green eyes still dazed but regaining their sharp focus. She reached back, patting Rowan’s muscular thigh. "You did good, baby. So good. Filled me up perfectly." She shifted, wincing slightly as Rowan pulled out slowly. Silas turned around, leaning back against the desk, her skirt rucked up, her pussy glistening. She hooked a finger, beckoning Gabby closer. "Now, Gabby. Come taste the proof of concept."
Gabby didn’t hesitate. She set her phone down on a nearby console, the recording light still blinking, and dropped to her knees between Silas’s spread legs. The scent of sex, expensive perfume, and Silas’s unique musk filled her nostrils, making her head swim. Her own mouth watered. She leaned in, her long dark hair brushing Silas’s inner thighs. With a soft moan, she flattened her tongue and licked a broad stripe through the slick mess coating Silas’s folds and thighs – a potent mix of Silas’s own arousal and Rowan’s copious pre-cum. The moment the salty-sweet fluid touched her tongue, a jolt of pure, electric pleasure shot through Gabby. It sparked at the base of her spine, crackled through her hypersensitive nerves, and detonated low in her belly. Her small cock twitched uselessly against her shorts as a low, shuddering moan escaped her. Milky droplets beaded more prominently at her nipples, darkening the lace. Her eyes rolled back slightly.
"Oh fuck, Silas," Gabby gasped, lapping hungrily, her tongue delving deeper, seeking every drop. "So good… makes me come just... just tasting it." Each swallow sent fresh tremors through her curvy frame, her ass clenching involuntarily on empty air, amplifying the lingering echoes of her recent anal ordeal. She sucked and licked with single-minded devotion, lost in the cascade of sensation triggered by the contact with semen.
Silas watched, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, one hand idly toying with her own nipple. "See?" she breathed, looking past Gabby’s bobbing head to Rowan, who stood flushed and still painfully hard, watching the scene with a complex mix of arousal and that familiar, gnawing frustration. "That’s the magic. That’s the fucking niche." Silas arched into Gabby’s mouth with a sigh. "Pure, visceral reaction. Unfiltered. Market gold."
Rowan swallowed, her gaze fixed on Gabby’s obvious ecstasy. The subtle, sweet scent of Gabby’s unique pheromones – intensified by her castration, a scent designed to drive other shemales wild – washed over Rowan, mingling with the room's other scents. It tightened her gut, making her massive, yearning cock throb. She wanted to bury herself in Gabby right then, on the office floor, to feel that hypersensitive body writhe beneath her, to maybe, just maybe, finally find her own release within it. But the barrier remained. The need warred with the knowledge of its likely futility. She clenched her fists, the frustration a sharp counterpoint to the lust roaring in her veins, her eyes dark with unmet desire as Gabby moaned around Silas’s fingers now tangling in her hair. The city lights blinked outside, indifferent to the charged, aching tension thickening the air within.