Finish the sandwich

It is a good sandwich. Not as good as the blowjob, but oh well.

You chew and eat the rest of your sandwich. You finish it right before you can cum. You grimace as you edge.

Clarissa bends over.

"Want some release? You look close."

You look at her. She looks so fuckable. Those wide, breedable hips. You're so close you'd fuck a normal sandwich. You nod.

She looks at you, the same goofy expression. With one of her fingers she pokes your cock.

"Fuuuuck!" you say, cumming all over yourself, the pleasure ruined from such shitty stimulation. Your cock continues to spew cum, as you try to direct it away from your clothes and face. This stupid ruined orgasm. This stupid disease.

"You're welcome" she says.

You look at her.

"You... cheated me. Tricked me out of a great orgasm."

"Yes, but you made the sandwich."

"Are you going to cry?" she says, smiling. She licks your face, her long tongue stretching to catch the tear drop that falls from your ducts.

"Awww, I'll help clean you up. For a favour."

You look down at your cum stained clothes. It's everywhere, even on your shoes, and it's sinking in.

"Will you hurt me if I refuse?"

"No, but have fun on your flight covered and reeking of cum. Even if you somehow manage to clean yourself up in the little time you have left..."

You look at your watch. Ten minutes.

"They would still know you came."