She wasn't kidding about the vegetables.

For the next several weeks you're bombarded with phone videos of Gemma fucking her holes with a variety of fruits and vegetables, from the expected cucumbers, zucchinis, and carrots, to a particularly messy encounter with a banana up her ass. You find yourself shamefully locking yourself in the bathroom and rubbing out a load with increasing regularity, but do nothing to engage or respond to her messages. In particular, the banana video conjures up vivid memories of the night you lost control of yourself and ravaged her ass, an act made even more unbelievable by the fact you did it on top of your **** wife. The guilt starts to eat away at you, even though you can't resist masturbating to thought, but you reason to yourself that self-pleasure is far preferable to cheating on your wife.

Evidently bored of the groceries, Gemma reverts back to the standard nudes, and soon you've amassed a collection that would rival any professional pornstars catalog. For some insane reason, you don't delete the photos and videos entirely, instead transferring them onto a secret cloud-based storage account on the internet that you can access as you please. Not that you ever need to look at any old material - the nudes come thick and fast and you're always provided with something fresh to jerk off to. Day by day, you wonder if your resistance is cracking and if you'll succumb to the temptation by contacting her for another torrid liaison. Fortunately, you do your best to avoid her in any social situation, and since the holiday there is barely a reason to see her.

Eventually, the nudes trickle to a stop, and given the month of no contact on your part, you wonder if she's grown bored of chasing you and found some other prey to play with.