Black Out

Gulped down

Peter was ramming into Gwen so hard that she had to brace her arms against the wall to keep from being driven into it, her body curling around as she took his lunging thrusts. She bit into his shoulder, tears streaming down her face. It was ecstasy, not pain. She didn’t even feel the discomfort of being hunched against the wall as she clutched him tightly to her body. Then she felt nothing at all, just the blankness of ecstasy. She let out a scream and gushed, reveling in the magical sensation pulsing through her. It was like she was hovering over her own body, weightless, lifted up by her bliss.

As Peter gave a loud grunt, Gwen quickly pulled herself off of his cock, scooted away from it, and grabbed him in a tight fist. She jerked his prick hard and fast before his seed pumped out, moaning weakly as she watched it gush onto her body. Peter gurgled and she jacked him faster, harder. His creamy seed spewed out of his cockhead to make a wet, slippery mess on her belly and her thighs. He’d left her with even more evidence of just how hard he could fuck her and how much he wanted to.

“No more, Peter! God! I can’t take anymore!” Gwen pleaded. She was aching from how much he had fucked her. And though more than satisfied, she couldn’t help but yearn for more.

Peter had become a madman in bed, getting it up again and again. With each orgasm, the symbiote grew, spreading across him until now it was up to his neck. “Fuck that. I’m still horny. You should’ve thought of that before you gave me this.”

He took hold of his prick, showing her it quivering slowly erect. Gwen just stared at it. He might’ve been referring to his growing hard-on, but all Gwen could see was the symbiote that now covered him like he’d been dipped in black ink.

“I don’t understand. Most men…”

“Most men don’t have you as an inspiration,” Peter stated. “Seeing that hot little body of yours is enough to make a crash-test dummy hard. How could I see you, blonde and naked and hot for it, and not fuck you?”

“But nine times?”

“Nine or nine hundred, what’s the difference? As long as I’m still horny and you’re still here…”

His hand fell to her sex. She groaned as he spurred familiar desires inside of her, fingers probing and seeking out just where she needed to be touched. She hadn’t known she could want more after how much he had fucked her. Yet when his finger ran over her clit, it swelled and thrummed as if electricity were flowing through it. She felt her juices dampening her groin. It didn’t take more than a minute for her to feel wetness dampening her inner thighs.

“Mmmm!” she moaned. “Ohhhh! Please, Peter, you can’t fuck me anymore! I mean it! I’m sore!”

“Just imagine how sore I’ll be if I don’t get my rocks off. You wouldn’t do that to someone who made you come so many times, would you?”

His finger penetrated her swollen cunt lips, stroking along the velvet of her walls. Her breath caught as she felt his fingertip inside of her. Her passions were building once more, even stronger now when she was trying to suppress them, but her soreness was mounting too. She’d never taken a man’s cock so many times in one night. It was like having sex with an entire orgy!

Her mind wandered. She tried to figure out just how much cock she had taken. Peter was about nine inches long and she figured he thrust into her about a hundred times before coming. Nine hundred inches of cock. But he had fucked her nine times. Nine to the ninth power. Eighty-one hundred inches of his driving cock.

“Six hundred and seventy-five feet!” she cried out, unable to believe her own math.

Peter didn’t even acknowledge her outburst. His attention was fixed totally on the golden hair of her pussy. He pressed his palm down on it, seeming to draw taut the flesh between the heel of his hand and where his crocked finger was rubbing. She wondered how many inches of finger she’d gotten. At least a tenth of a mile she had gotten in cock. She wondered how much it would be before she’d had miles of it. Before the end of the year, certainly.