Well, MalO SAID she was going to milk you dry...

MalO just keeps riding you. Your cock aches and throbs, but she doesn't let up. No, you feel her soft, furred body rub against yours, her fat, erect nipples pushing into your skin and dragging over your chest. If you strain your eyes looking downwards, you even see the dimples they make as MalO moves, her hands clawing at the sheets next to you as her hips buck against yours.

"You chose me when you downloaded the app, John," she growls via your phone as you feel her right hand grab the side of your face, thumb hooked under your jaw. "You don't G̪̋͘E͍͛ͣ͐ͪͤ̀T to weasel out of this!"

A slippery tongue snakes over your chin and cheek, leaving behind a trail of ectoplasm or saliva or whatever it is that MalO produces as her fluids. It feels hot and cold at the same time, and you would probably shiver, if your muscles were able to move at all - but as it is, all you can do is lie there and take it. Take MalO's hips slam down onto yours, sucking you deep inside her, invisible muscles clamping down around your length, milking your poor, abused rod relentlessly.

You groan and pant as you finally feel your next climax approach, nuts aching and twitching as they draw together to prepare another load, every second lustful **** as you waver between pleasure and pain. It's too soon, you need a break, need to recover, but MalO doesn't care. She just keeps rolling her hips, making your leaking tip draw circles in the air where it is gripped by MalO's ghostly pussy.

Finally, with a strangled cry, you let loose once again, and MalO flickers into being on top of you with every spurt and dribble, panting lustfully, playing with her enormous tits, tongue lolling free, snapshots of a monstrous, skull-faced apparition abusing your overworked rod as she rides out your climax. And then she rides on. You're allowed no rest or respite, you're just there for MalO to use.

"How many more do you have in you, I wonder?" Voice crackling with mirth, MalO puts her hands on your chest, her weight making it harder and harder to breathe, and once again, you feel the cobweb sensation of her hair against your face. "Shall we find out, John?"

And thus it continues. MalO doesn't let up, doesn't even let you grow soft now, using every trick in the book as her snatch pulls at your overworked rod. Your cock aches in sweet agony, and you can see your shaft turn ever redder, swollen, spongy and bruised from MalO's bouncing and gyrating. Again and again, she forces you to cum, the time between each climax getting longer and longer, and with time, your cumshots become mere dribbles.

Even so, each and every one makes MalO visible once more, her eyes boring into yours as your shaft strains and forces watery globs of jizz out and into MalO. Time becomes a blur, only your repeated, increasingly strained climaxes and MalO flickering into being telling you that it still passes. Finally, after nearly a dozen orgasms (if you counted correctly, and in your state, that is questionable) all you manage are weak twitches and painful throbs. You're spent, utterly emptied. You can't even maintain your erection... and finally, MalO stops moving.

"You see what happens if you try to G̖̹̿̃͌͟E̬T͗͘ R̢I̥̘̤ͨ̊D͕ me? If you IG̡̘ͯ͋̚N̹̐ͬOR̪ͯE̢̜ͪ̀̓ͯ̈́ of me?" You feel MalO moving off of you, your limp dick slapping onto your stomach, soaked in cum and MalO's ectoplasmic juices. "Try and recover, John. Because you'll n͈_e̠͇̍v͆er̳ be͜ a͇͙ͧl̦o̸̭͂ṉ͐ḙ̭͞ ag̒̈aͧ͊i̬ͥ̔n̳͕͐!"

MalO's words echo in your head as exhaustion claims you and you fall into a deep sleep.