She screamed for him this time around. All kinds of strange things that, somehow, just made him drive himself into her faster and harder. "I've masturbated over you ever since they assigned you to me!" she gasped, then, her face straining as she gripped him with those amazing vaginal muscles, "Not bad for a leathery old lady, huh, kid?" He couldn't answer, tried to nod. She was so tan, but her skin was so soft. If it was leather, it was expensive leather. "I'd like to wake up next to you in a proper bed," she continued, "and have you start my day with at least a couple of -- AAAHHH!" he felt her body beginning to shake, "nice," she reached up and grabbed his arse, her nails digging his flesh, pulling him into her, "BIG -- "
She screamed again, louder, her eyes turned up and her back arched as she shook with the multiple orgasms she'd been demanding. He'd lasted much longer this time, but seeing her mouth open, screaming for his cum, her delicious nipples bouncing with each thrust, he called out her name and filled her again with great, hot spurts of his precious boymilk.
He woke up to an annoying beeping. Vesse was beside him, her knees still up, but not opened like they had been when he'd mounted her. He didn't remember dismounting. She was clumsily poking her handheld. "It's those stupid reverse osmosis pumps again." She strained to sit up, failed, flopped back muttering, "Old woman."
"I'll go," he volunteered, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. She touched his shoulder, noticed a scratch that had opened up during their frantic lovemaking.
"Thank you, darling," she opened her lips and they touched tongues.
After a long, luxurious moment together, he unsteadily got to his feet, threw his clothes on and grabbed his gear. "And remember," she called after him, "Anytime you need a tanning session, come see me, even if it's unscheduled!" He laughed and headed out.
For a while, she lay quiet, keeping her knees up, watching her handheld as it tracked him. After fifteen minutes had passed, she put it down and reached between her legs, pushing her labia apart, reaching in with unsteady fingers.
"Fuck!" she cursed, struggling to avoid scraping herself and still get a good hold on the thin, slippery material lining her sensitive pink flesh. It took time, and more cursing, but eventually, grunting with the effort, she managed to twist the end so it sealed itself, then slowly pulled out a long tube of transparent latex. When the end finally popped out, she checked carefully to see that it was still sealed, that Gene's boyish, inexperienced thrusts hadn't opened up any leaks. Satisfied, she picked up the handheld and called.
"Hi Sharina," she said when she finally got through, "Send a drone pickup if you can manage it in the next ten minutes. Fine, that's great," she held the collection pouch up to the light, "Got a couple of nice big loads out of your little problem child." She swung it back and forth, "No I didn't measure how much, but it's more than you've got out of him in two and a half weeks. Yes, I'm putting it in the jar right now," she lied. "You know," she was trying to remember where the jars were hidden, "You've all gone soft, nowadays, soft as that boy's cock after I've drained his balls. When I worked for you, a boy who wouldn't do his civic duty was held down on the table and the girl with the strongest fingers would ram a couple up his arse and milk his prostate dry. The next day he'd be all eager for a handjob instead. He'd beg for the ugliest and meanest docent in the dorm to milk him morning, noon and night."
When she finally finished her rant, she put down the handheld and noticed the drop of blood on her palm from where she'd touched his shoulder. She licked it, enjoying the rusty taste, as she thought what those spineless women in short white skirts would be doing tomorrow, and the next day.
They'd make a show of punishing him, alternating with persuasion, teasing him unmercifully, bending over, brushing up against him with their tits or hips, maybe even trying to wake him up with one hand cupping his balls and another rubbing warm lubricant on his cock -- though that could end up wasting sperm, splattering it all over before anyone could get a jar positioned. Eventually Sharina, pretending to be tearful and frustrated (they'd try guilting Gene too, but Vesse suspected even Sharina couldn't make that work on him), would have to call her supervisor, who would pretend that this was the first she'd ever heard of the trouble and arrange a sit down. She'd surprise Gene by turning on the sympathy (who knows, maybe Gene would be so grateful he'd be willing to come to HER office after some encouragement!) and reminding everyone that, even though our society is an enclosed society, we all have rights and to leave him alone from now on, no shaming and no coercion.
And of course, there will always be one of us waiting, if you should ever change your mind!
