Presses the cum button

Cynthia decides to prove that the app works in the most succinct and undeniable way - by hitting the button marked "CUM". As her finger hovers over the screen, she looks up at Roussard. Due to the careful and deliberate way Cynthia had used iCock up until now, there are a lot of things she hasn't gotten to experience yet. One of these yet unexplored pleasures is hitting the orgasm button without any buildup or sexual context - another is getting to look someone in the face as their cock cums at the touch of a button. Now, she gets to do both.
"If the iCock app is bullshit, then how do you explain this?" she asks, lowering her finger onto the button.

Cynthia watches Roussard's face closely as a series of expressions rapidly present themselves. First, there's a slight discomfort and confusion at a sudden movement and an unexpected feeling down south. The confusion intensifies and becomes shock as Roussard identifies the feeling, and naturally his look of shock quickly becomes panic at the oncoming embarrassment. Roussard clasps a hand over his crotch and hunches forward, groaning as he begins to pump jizz into his slacks. Cynthia watches in curious amusement as Roussard, his face turned down but still clearly bearing an expression of pure struggle as he tries to suppress his orgasm, squeezes his cock frantically as though trying to stop the flow of cum. Roussard's orgasm continues without signs of abating for almost a minute before Roussard manages to **** out:
"Please... make... it... stop." Cynthia realizes that she never lifted her finger off the cum button, and it hits her that this must be the reason for the private investigator's unusually long orgasm. She lifts her finger, and Roussard strokes his cock as it finally begins to stop cumming.

"It's real," Roussard pants incredulously, looking up at her with a flushed face.
"Sure is," Cynthia says, standing up to leave.
"Wait, where are you going?" Roussard asks, alarmed.
"Coming here was a waste of time," Cynthia says, heading towards the door, "I was on the fence because I could barely afford this anyway, but you not believing me really cemented it."
"Wait!" Roussard to follow her, but she's already at the door. He seems to realize that he can't follow her into the hallway with a huge cumstain on the front of his pants, and it's all that he can do to call out after her as she walks away.

As Cynthia gets back into her car, it's all she can do not to slip a hand down the front of her pants and masturbate to the memory of Roussard uncontrollably ejaculating, untouched, into his slacks. She's really wet, and her clit is **** for her attention. She crosses her legs and rocks slightly, getting some stimulation from that. Before she can get too carried away, though, her phone rings. She picks up, and immediately Roussard begins talking on the other end.
"Don't hang up, please. Look, we got off on the wrong foot, and that's my fault," he says, "but what just happened, that was... that was incredible. I'll do anything you want - shady shit, illegal shit, whatever - and I'll do it for free if you'd just use the app on me every now and again. It's okay if you don't want that, but seriously, whatever you want."
Huh, Cynthia thinks, I guess I never considered that some guys might actually want their cocks controlled. Or that anyone would be so up-front about it.

"So," Roussard says, nervously, "what do you say?"