Chapter 20: Temporary Satisfaction
The air in the room had become a stagnant broth of salt, sex, and that peculiar, piercing ozone scent that seemed to emanate from their very pores. Eleanor peeled herself off David’s chest, the sound of their separating flesh a sick, wet smack. A river of his spend, thick and pearlescent, gushed out of her, painting a warm streak down her inner thigh and onto the ruined leather of the couch.
David made a sound—a weak, exhausted groan. His arms fell away from her, limp at his sides. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow hitches. But jutting up from the thatch of his dark hair, glistening with their mixed fluids, his cock stood defiantly erect. It looked angry, the skin taut and flushed a deep burgundy, veins corded along its length like roads on a map.
Eleanor swayed as she stood, her own body singing with a deep, sore ache. She felt hollowed out and packed full simultaneously. Her new folds, sensitive and swollen, felt air on them for the first time in hours and tingled. She looked down at David. His eyes were closed, his face ashen beneath the flush of exertion.
“David?”
A weak flutter of his eyelids. “Still… here,” he managed, his voice a cracked whisper.
She knelt on the carpet, the fibers rough against her knees. The cool air of the room raised goosebumps on her sweat-slick skin. She leaned in, studying him. His cock was rigid, yes. A testament to the pill’s vicious efficacy. But it was just… his cock. The same length, the same familiar curve. A disappointment curdled in her stomach, sharp and sour.
“It didn’t get bigger,” she said to herself, her tone flat.
She reached out, wrapping her fingers around the base. It was fever-hot. It pulsed in her grip, a living, demanding thing entirely separate from the broken man attached to it. She gave it an experimental stroke. Pre-cum, clear and viscous, beaded instantly at the slit. David flinched, a full-body spasm, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Don’t,” he breathed. “Please. It’s too much.”
But the drug, or her own twisted need, overrode the pity. She needed to see. She needed to know. She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over the slick head. The scent was potent, musky, layered with her own unique, chemically-altered tang. Her tongue darted out, tasting the salt and the bitter ejaculate. A shiver, not entirely unpleasant, went through her.
With her other hand, she parted her own labia, which felt heavy and elaborate, a complex bloom of sensitive flesh. She guided the head of his cock to her entrance, which wept eagerly, another wave of arousal soaking her despite the soreness. She was always ready now. A dripping, hungry faucet.
“Look at me,” she commanded.
David’s eyes opened. They were bloodshot, hollow. He watched as she slowly, slowly, impaled herself back onto him, a low, guttural moan escaping her as he filled the sore, well-used channel. It was a tight, burning fit, overly sensitive, and electric.
“You feel that?” she whispered, lowering herself until she was fully seated, their bodies joined again. “You’re still so hard. You’ve come… what, three, four times? And you’re still this hard rock for me.”
“It hurts,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “A constant, fucking burning ache. I can feel my own heartbeat in it.”
“Good,” she hissed, beginning to rock, a slow, grinding torture for them both. “Maybe this is just the start. Maybe you’ll grow so big you’ll split me open.”
The image, violent and erotic, spurred her on. She rode him with a slow, deep determination, each movement a conscious fuck, watching his face contort in a mosaic of pleasure and agony. She was chasing her own feeling again, the friction sparking against her over-stimulated clit. She reached between them, her fingers finding the swollen nub, and rubbed rough, tight circles.
“You’re my perfect fuck-toy now,” she panted, her rhythm gaining a desperate edge.
“Stop,” he begged, but his hips gave a feeble, involuntary upward jerk, plunging him deeper.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop,” she sneered. “Your body is mine.”
Her climax built not as a wave, but as a sudden, sharp detonation. It was less pleasure than a neurological screaming fit, her cunt clamping around him in a series of brutal, pulsating spasms that made her vision whiten at the edges. She screamed, a raw, ragged sound, collapsing forward onto him, her teeth sinking into the muscle of his shoulder to muffle the noise.
Beneath her, triggered by her violent convulsions, David came again. It was a dry, hacking shudder, a scant, watery spill that felt more like a physiological error than a release. He cried out, a sound of pure despair.
For a long minute, there was only the sound of their suffocating breaths. The room was dark now, the last of the sun gone. Only the faint, greasy light from a streetlamp filtered through the blinds.
Eleanor finally pushed herself up. His cock, slick with her latest orgasm, slid wetly from her. It remained standing, a stubborn, obscene monument in the gloom. She felt drained, hollow. The power felt less sweet, now tasted of ashes and copper.
She stood, her legs unsteady, and walked naked to the kitchen. She filled a glass with tepid water from the tap and drank it in one long, desperate gulp. Leaning against the counter, she looked back into the living room. David hadn’t moved. He lay on the wrecked couch, a pale form in the darkness, with that one, persistent part of him reaching for a ceiling he couldn’t see.
The orange prescription bottle sat on the nightstand in the hallway, just visible from where she stood. Her pills. Her solution. Her monster.
A cold knot of fear tightened in her bowels. What had she done? This wasn’t reignited passion. This was a medical horror. She had wanted a stallion, but she had created a machine stuck in a single, brutal function. David was disappearing behind the glaze of constant, unsustainable need.
She heard a rustle from the couch. A low, pathetic whimper.
“Ellie?” His voice was thin, cracked. “It… it won’t go down. It feels like it’s going to… rupture.”
The clinical part of her mind, the lawyer, assessed the liability. The wounded wife part reveled in his total dependency. The terrified human being just stared.
She walked back, her shadow falling over him. She looked at his tormented face, then down at the afflicted, twitching cock.