Liz
Licking fresh cum from Sarah's mouth after it was already technically just spillage had been naught... erotic... and highly arousing, according to the buzz resonating in my nipples and belly and the sudden, savage moistness that had erupted between my shameless thighs.
This, though? Sucking a river of cum from Subject 42's hot, thick cock like it was a soft-serve machine? This was beyond plain old panty-dripping fucking hot. Fuck! His cum was so rich and gooey-warm! It tasted so fucking good! And the thrill of such wanton transgression?! The feel of all that precious fluid just sliding down my ungoverned, eager cocksucking throat was just fucking incredible!
Sarah's "
protocol
" argument was as thin as the panties she probably wasn't wearing and we both knew it. If anyone else suspected, or worse...
For just a moment I had a shiver of fright that we might just get caught, but my rational mind - or what was left of it at the moment - beat down the frisson of guilty apprehension. Even as I gave in to my carnal abandon and pumped more forbidden cocksauce into my mouth and throat, I knew that nobody but nobody would ever disturb the lead research team working on the best hope for our community's future.
And nobody would dare question such spectacular results! At least not after Sarah and I had scienced them up and sanitized them of all evidence of our licentious indulgences. All this went through my mind in the time it took Sarah to squat down beside me, slide her fingertips underneath the subject's balls and gasp, "Fuck! Is he still fucking cumming?!"
I pulled my mouth off of his prick and shared it, full of the forbidden nectar, with Sarah as we watched his cock continue to ooze thick, white ejaculate. "Well," I replied, pulling away from Sarah's mouth. "Whether he's cumming or not, he's still producing product," I noted.
Sarah scooped up a dribble of product that had leaked out the corner of her mouth and shoved it back in, sucking sensuously on her fingers. I stood up and turned to the main diagnostic display, calling up parallel streams of data on EKG, EEG, instantaneous blood chemistry, and select musculoskeletal activities. I slid the streams back and noted the time stamps.
"Well, champ. Looks like you had one hell of a fucking orgasm here." The subject groaned in agreement. "But what the fuck's going on now," I wondered, scrolling the data display forward with my fingertip. "Looks like your brain dumped out of the party but your body just kept going. It's not post-climax normal... it looks more like... hmmm."
"Is he back at P1?!" Sarah gasped beside me as she examined the data.
"How do you feel," I asked him directly, noting his alert gaze and controlled aspect with some surprise.
"I... fuck! I feel fucking awesome," he stammered.
"That's the endorphins," I said, brushing the trace on the monitor. "How does your equipment feel?"
"My..."
"Penis, testicles, generative structures, your productive apparatus," I clarified.
"My package?"
"Yeah. Your package. All of it. How does it feel?"
"Like I just got the living fuck fucked out of me," he informed us.
"Ok. Technically you did," I agreed. "That was the objective of the input parameters we set, but..." I had a sudden hunch. "On a scale of one to ten, how ready do you think you are to undergo productive stimulation again right now?"
"What..."
"She means are you down for some more hot fucking right now, big boy?" Sarah cupped the subject's cock and balls in a measuring grasp that was definitely little more than detached clinical assessment.
