Flight of the involuntary pervert.

Seymour ran. With every step, his nuts and his barely softening cock bounced around inside his track pants, thighs kicking them around left and right, left and right. Part of him felt like it was an appropriate punishment for splattering his seed all over the poor, cute, unbearably fuckable waitress... Seymour bit the inside of his cheek as he felt his thoughts go into that direction again. What had Audrey done to him? He'd never had these incessant, uncontrollable sexual fantasies and urges before! They'd only started with Audrey!

I'm not like that! I don't wanna be like that! Seymour grit his teeth as he kept running, mind swirling... like a tongue around his cock... NO!

Breathing heavily, and only partly due to exertion, Seymour ducked into an alley to catch his breath, noticing in dismay how utterly hard he still was - or again? - the tent in his cum-drenched track pants twitching with his heartbeat. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, Seymour leaned back against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. It took a while to get back to manageable levels, his frantic flight having taken a lot out of him, and even then, Seymour was still panting with barely controllable lust coursing through him. If only Jess was here, or Audrey, or any sexy female with a tight, inviting hole...

"Noaargh!" A strangled cry rose from Seymour's throat as his knees buckled and he almost slumped to the ground, the sudden sound of a door opening to his right interrupting his downward spiral. "Whu..?"

"Could you maybe not shoot up right behind my... store?" A brunette in what looked to be a French maid outfit had stepped out, arms crossed under her pert breasts. "What the hell?"

Seymour gaped and stammered incoherently, eyes fixed on the incredibly alluring hips stretching the maid outfit's skirt until the seams creaked. How did she even get dressed?! And what did he have to do to have those soft thighs wrap around him while he stuffed the wet snatch between them full of...

"Damn, you're almost as big as Jamie..." His eyes swimming upwards to her face unsteadily, Seymour realized that the maid was actually staring at his cock, or more specifically, the head slowly pumping pre through the fabric of his track pants. "But why are you..."

Before she could finish, Seymour pushed away from the wall, taking an unsteady step towards her. She... she liked his cock, right? M-maybe she would help him, let him at that enormous, jiggly ass and... Nope, she had disappeared into the door with a small squeak and threw it closed behind her. Seymour banged his fist against the metal in frustration.

"C'mon, please! Just... just let me in, I need help! You..."

What am I even doing?! She's just... I'm... Fuck! Had she not closed the door, would Seymour have **** her?! He wasn't safe to be around. He had to get home!
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Again, Seymour ran. His unbearably hard rod, swinging wildly left and right, obviously caught the attention of the passers-by, and he saw and heard them point and laugh, although some seemed to be impressed rather than scandalized or amused. Maybe he should. No! I need to get to... Audrey... Seymour felt righteous anger rise within him. It was all Audrey's fault! She had made him like this! Once he got back home, he'd destroy that damn plant bitch!