$200 for sex.

No sooner than how long it took to put ten Jacksons on your coffee table did "Nutmeg" get to work, taking only seconds to go from poorly dressed to lavishly nude. You don't see a hair on her, save the slightest hint of stubble on her pubic mound, and she doesn't even wait for you to ask for the condom before she's unpacking it. Suddenly realizing just how professional she is, you take your meat out and watch, mesmerized, as she applies the condom from between her painted lips. By the time your pink-cued cock is slowly drawn out of her throat, you're feeling about ready to blow.

Apparently it was evident. "Calm dooooown, Hot Stuff, we just gettin' started!" You consider how you got here: your crazy neighbor and old high school (lesbian) crush, two years without a shag and a convenient excuse to finally hit this low... and then she throws her bony leg over you, rubs her own crotch with a palm-full of spit, and impales herself slowly onto you. All hesitation, worry, and shame was put on pause... and so was your self-control. Clutching her thighs to you, you dig your rubber-sheathed member into her birth canal and start to come. "Ooooh baby, it feels so good when you cuuum inside me," she coos, putting her perky B-cups (a full cup down from her padded outfit) in your face. As if trying to catch up with you, she gyrates contently, building to fake an orgasm (you knew damn well what that sounds like and she was no Academy Award winner). You fill the resevoir tip, which rests against the entrance of her womb... and keeps growing. The first pulse of cum is almost out of you, and your orgasm grips your senses as you continue. "Feels sooo go-... whoa, that's... that's alot, baby, how are-"

She tries to dismount, finding your grip of iron on her thighs. The condom was flexible, certainly, but the right amount of stress on the wrong parts could create a fragility that was responsible for many unwanted sons and daughters. Nutmeg herself was such a daughter, only one aspect of the sad tale you knew nothing about. The reservoir tip inflates... and fills her cunt... and, much to her growing panic, finds relief by inflating through the tight muscle of her cervix and growing into her womb. She howls with an animal mixture of pain and pleasure, a sharp change in her tone from the bad acting earlier, but you can barely register it as you begin your second volley. The tip inflates and deforms, pouring more and more through the narrow tunnel of latex that connected the tip of your cock and the growing bubble inside her womb, widening your side of the resevoir tip until it inflates around the rest of your cock... and rubs too many bits of latex against one another. "Baaby, this huuuuungh! Take it out, I think it's gonna-... it's gonna-!"

Your front door opens. You lean your head, still lost in orgasm, to the side and see Devi with a key to your apartment (that you don't recall giving to her), watching your act in astonishment. "Derek! What did I tell you?!"

But no amount of questions can stop your third pulse of baby batter. The condoms inflation nearly doubles the girth of the intruder inside of Nutmeg as fluid is tightly packed by cock against her vaginal walls, the latex rubbing dangerously, and her cervix crushing the tunnel until it was pinched. The latex there in that tiny space, stretched to its maximum, now to deal with mutual friction... proves too much. The condom ruptures at the entrance of her womb, snapping the latex back towards that tight, donut-shaped gate and depositing, along with insufficient amounts of spermicide, millions of your addictive sperm into a hooker's womb. Nutmeg's eyes roll into the back of her head as she gasps and, unbeknownst to you, has her first real orgasm in her adult life.