Twentyfirst, Twentysecond, Twentythird, Twentyfourth, Twentyfifth, Twentysixth

I deliver two more in the morning, but it worries me that the time between them must increase. Does my “once an hour” strategy not work? Will I just go too slow, and be exhausted regardless, not able to keep up the tempo later on? Shouldn’t I farm more cummings from my body, while I am relatively fresh? Eight more to go, I’m still going steady, but the timer has also gone down to 10:22, and I can feel my ease of cumming decreasing. It worries me to ****, quite literally. When I lose any more momentum, my life is in danger. The 23rd takes more than two hours to achieve, and that’s not nearly good enough as a schedule. I try to extend it into a 24th right away, but I can’t even achieve it. The jar of my sex really seems to be drying up now.

I still manage to drag myself into 24 and 25, but it takes many hours. A terrible headache is developing, my pussy is tender and oversensitized, begging for rest and recuperation, my muscles feel like a rag and so does my general constitution. I am wearing out. And if I allow that to happen, I will fail. And if I fail, I die.

I’m so proud of myself that I manage to fight it. Somewhere, my mind has ways to summon more from my body. Resilience, backup power, emergency reserves, something like that. 26 comes, but it also makes it clear that it won’t go any further along this line. This is how far she will take me, the end of the line, and if I want any more from my sex, I’ll have to create a damn good incentive for that.