Yes

You nod, a tight knot forming in your stomach. The thrill of the challenge is laced with a bitter tang of apprehension. Lulu's smile widens, predatory and triumphant. With a flick of her wrist, the locked cage clicks open, the metal cold against your skin. Relief washes over you.

As you pull her close, her lips meet yours in a **** kiss, a clash of tongues that speaks of a simmering desire beneath the surface. You can taste the salt of the ocean on her skin, a lingering reminder of the wild abandon of the night before. Her hands snake up your back, their touch a searing brand that both excites and terrifies you. You pull her body flush against yours, the press of her curves a familiar and intoxicating sensation. As you make your move, your carefully constructed confidence gets into disarray. An entry with disarming ease that yielded a hollow victory. Like a key not quite fitting the lock, but turning nonetheless.The ease disquiets, a tremor beneath the surface. Lulu's muted response confirms it all - no gasp, no arch, no instinctive clench, no **** embrace.

When you explore further, the confirmation hits you like a physical blow. Her loins feel looser, undeniably different from the way they used to be. Every thrust was a stark reminder of Mark, a hollow space where his fullness had just been, with a wet, haunting echo of his pleasure, a mockery that threatened to drown yours. It was a physical manifestation of your inadequacy, a glaring sign that Lulu's desires had outgrown the boundaries of your capabilities. A cold dread pools in your gut. It's not just a looseness, a subtle difference. It's a shift that speaks of recent exploration, of a depth you haven't achieved in a long time. The realization hits you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. You pull back slightly, the question burning on your tongue.

"Lulu," you murmur, your voice strained. "Why are you so wet already?" you press, the question edged with a tremor of suspicion.
A devilish smile dons her face. "Seems tonight wasn't just about my fireworks, was it, darling?" she purrs, her voice laced with a double meaning.

The words hit you like a slap. The physical evidence, a constant reminder of your inadequacy, hangs heavy in the air.You try your best to recapture the passion, to reignite the spark that seems to have dwindled to embers. You kiss her deeply, exploring every corner of her mouth, desperately seeking a reaction, a flicker of desire in her eyes. You vary your rhythm, your touch, anything to break through the practiced movements and manufactured moans. But it's a futile effort. Every touch, every caress was a stark reminder of Mark's presence, a specter of his touch lingering on her skin, a haunting echo of his pleasure that mocked your own efforts. His ghost lingered in the air, suffocating the joy and leaving you both adrift in a sea of unspoken desires.

With every thrust, every brush of skin against skin, insecurity gnaws at you like a ravenous beast. Every touch, every caress, every push was a stark reminder of Mark's presence, a specter of his touch lingering on her skin, a haunting echo of his pleasure that mocked your own efforts. The memory of her moans for another man, the raw passion evident even from afar, becomes a cruel comparison that replays on a loop in your mind. Shame burns in your throat, a bitter aftertaste that lingers long after the act is over. It's a suffocating weight that squeezes the air from your lungs, a dark stain on the supposed intimacy you share. You feel like a lesser version of the man who had brought her such evident pleasure just hours before, where his dominance had been a palpable ****, a stark contrast to the fleeting touch you now offered.

Sensing your imminent climax, Lulu might brush against you more playfully than passionately. Despite your best efforts, you near the finish line. Lulu can read you like a book, and noticing your impending climax, she forcefully shoves you back with surprising strength. As if to rub salt in the wound, she says, "'The fact that I was too preoccupied earlier, doesn't mean you can do the same this time,'" while using her hand on your chest and turning her stomach into a canvas covered with a milky spatter.