Struggle

Your girlfriend left you alone in a room with what would have been the biggest boner of your life. But instead, your painfully scrunched little shooter is just violently pressing into its undersized cell.

Images of your girlfriend's generously curved form kneeling in eager service before your sister's brutal endowment flash through your mind. Your girlfriend Carrie's cool confidence and playful demeanor laid low by Sam's perfect spire. A look of awe etched on her face as your sister's mythical weapon professes its prodigious eagerness as a constant stream of shimmering nectar. Her pre rains in a consecrating cascade as her pulsing punisher looms over your girlfriends nervous, reverent form. Slowly saturating her soft features and quivering lips with its incessant anticipation.

But the scene goes blank in your head. Your abused nub weeping its misery in impotent frustration.

You need so much more to be free of this horrible feeling. Either more sensation or more inspiration.

But your mischievous jailer is off visiting her own muse. With a telling eagerness and newfound sadistic bend you've never seen in her before.
It hadn't hit you until now just how spoiled you had been by those few sessions. And how much Carrie likely now relished your trained desperation.
Listening with rapt attention as your painfully beautiful girlfriend luxuriated in retelling each and every moment of her falling in love with your sister and her ludicrous cock.
Feeling the gentle caress of her warm soft hands stroking you as she huskily whispered beat by potent beat the details of her life changing trysts. You can't tell whether it was the worst or best decision of your life to have Carrie come on to Samantha, and your throwaway hope to have her 'feel superior' to you is happening whether you like it or not.

Now you are all alone in a room wondering, in a bittersweet mix of lust and humiliation, if your sister's perfect cock is ruining your girlfriend this very moment. Wishing more than anything else that you could just be there to watch something so precious happen.

This can't be rightheaded. You need to escape these kind of thoughts, and that means you need to cum.

Your hands instinctively go to where your manhood would be, grasping pathetically at the dickless void in front of your compacted cocklet. In frustration you begin clawing at the cage. You scrape and tug and pull and pivot. But nothing happens. Carrie was right about this thing, and your taut little balls and bruised pecker ache with your failed attempts at freedom.

You try to caress your balls like Carrie did before, remembering how close you felt to finishing even with that reduced gesture.
But your own rough embrace is nothing in comparison to even the most teasing and slight sensations Carrie has to offer. She was damn good with cocks, every part of her supple and shapely and practiced in dangerous ways. And now she had a bigger, better, worthier one to service as she left you in a state of pointless aching need.

You cup both hands around your imprisoned manhood, and a few pathetic laugh-like breaths escape you as you take respite in their warmth and prepare yourself for what you know you have to do.

A single finger crawls behind your balls as you wince at the novel sensation as you begin fingering your rear end. You try to give shape to the new sensation, imagine doing something, anything that might make this feeling have shape or purpose. But it's so unlike any other sex you've had before that, again, your imagination fails you. You haven't ever had anything back there, and never wanted to. You still don't, you think...

"Don't worry he's definitely asleep, I'll just nip in the shower as soon as I get in and everything will be fine. God that was so fucking good, it's like you're super human. See you tomorrow morning... please?" You hear your girlfriend whisper. Followed by the telltale smack of a goodbye kiss.

The door swings open before you can salvage any dignity out of your current position. And your humiliation is laid bare before the beautifully ravaged form of your girlfriend.

Her evident triumph contrasts harshly with your sorry state. Carrie is stark naked with her clothes draped over her left arm, while her right struggles to stifle a laugh. Her whole body is flush with afterglow from what must have been their most momentous coupling yet. Every bit you can see anyways.

From head to toe, Carrie is absolutely caked in semen. Her arms, thighs, ass, shoulders, half of her face. Nearly everywhere is slathered in Samantha's unnaturally dense seed; with individual ropes visible amongst that glistening vital plaster thicker than your own cock was wide.

Only a scant few inches are spared here and there outside of the crime scene like indication of her deed.
From just under her belly button all the way up to the left half of her face is the telltale imprint of the nature of their most recent indiscretion. A blushed red path of abused glistening skin is visible through the snowscape that is the rest of her form and snakes vertically along her body through her pert heaving breasts.

The outline of a cock seemingly as wide as a two liter bottle is stamped into the giggling form of your thoroughly satisfied torturer.

The sight alone causes your damaged little dicklet to quiver and leak harder than it ever has before.