Life is Futa Chapter 7

“Let her have the W?” Beth mutters irritably as she dresses. “Let her have the D, more like. Selfishness. Entitlement. Decadent western capitalist dog. Bitch,” she corrects herself.

“You’re drunk, Beth. And you come from a capitalist country too,” Duni adds, patting Beth’s rear end several times to prompt her to leave.

“But we have the NHS,” Beth slurs as she crawls out of the tent.

Duni rolls her eyes and follows, firmly zipping up the tent behind her.

Max is alone with Riley.

They face each other. The moment stretches awkwardly. Too awkwardly. Max rewinds it.

“Hush,” she says as Riley opens her mouth. “Shush. Be quiet.”

Startled, Riley closes her mouth and swallows. Lightheaded with heat, dehydration, ****, and volcanic embarrassment, Max crawls over to her and pushes her down. Barbie doesn’t resist. She’s stiff, not relaxed… her whole body, not just her cock, but she’s as ready to be posed as an artist’s mannequin.

Max climbs on top of her. Her movements are made jerky by her nerves as she takes Riley’s cock in her hand and sinks onto it with a gasp. Her palms fall on Riley’s chest as the sudden fullness rocks her hypersensitive body. Riley whimpers and bites her lip, wiggling underneath her. She vainly tries to lift her hips. Max sighs loudly and rocks in response. Riley’s skin is too slick to grip, and Riley’s hands paw at Max’s sweaty body. It’s messy, sloppy and frenzied. Max’s tummy clenches so hard that it hurts and there are tears in her eyes when she cums, hunching forward with her pussy seizing tightly on Riley’s erection, which bursts inside her. Each throb of the shaft and spurt of hot semen sets off a little aftershock that makes Max’s hips shake.

“Ungh,” she moans pitifully as she sags on top of Riley. Their oily skin is pressed tight. Max is panting in Riley’s face. The penis slips out and Max feels more semen oozing onto her thigh. It’s hardly the acrobatic sex that she’s used to seeing on HBO, but after a whole night of edging, she’s surprised that she lasted as long as she has.

Even so, as she regains her breath, she realizes how undignified this is. They aren’t even tangled up; completely spent, they’re smooshed together like cartoon characters who fell out of a window and landed on each other. Max doesn’t want Riley seeing this side of her. She’s so tired.

She tries to rewind but can’t. Her eyelids are heavy and the tent is swimming. Gin. Gin did this. It’s ironic; Max is all out of juice.