sluts come home

The penthouse apartment door swings open with a heavy thud as Candy stumbles inside. Her legs feel like jelly, and her brain is vibrating in a state of pure, unadulterated static. Her blouse is torn at the collar, her skirt is riding dangerously high, and her thighs are streaked with dried, milky residue the undeniable evidence of a grueling eight hour shift as a museum guide.

"Fuck me..." Candy slurs, collapsing against the marble entryway. "So many... so many cocks today. My throat feels like it's full of warm pudding."

Being a museum guide for spermivore history was exhausting. Three hundred men tourists, staff, security had taken turns treating her as a living exhibit. Between the oral feedings during the lecture breaks and the impromptu 'demonstrations' in the VIP lounge, Candy's capacity had been pushed to its absolute limit. She could barely remember her own name, but she could vividly recall the sensation of three hundred different loads flooding her system.

"Candy? Is that you, sweetie?" A muffled voice calls out from the living room.

Lisa staggers into view, and Candy can't help but giggle. Lisa is a vision of complete cognitive collapse. Her hair is a bird's nest of platinum tangles, her makeup is smeared across her cheeks in greasy streaks, and she's wearing nothing but a pair of thigh high stockings and a dazed, lopsided grin.

"I'm home, Lisa," Candy breathes, crawling toward her girlfriend on the plush carpet. "How was... how was your day?"

Lisa flops down beside her, her movements slow and clumsy, like a marionette with cut strings. "Mmm... good. So good. The office... the office was so busy." Lisa's eyes roll back for a moment before focusing on Candy. "The boss... he had three interns. And the delivery guy. And the janitor. I think... I think I ate like... fifty gallons today?"

The two women collapse into each other, a tangle of sweaty, slick limbs. This was their ritual: coming home from their respective 'workdays' to share the blissful emptiness they had both earned. There was no conversation about politics, no talk of feelings there was only the shared understanding of their purpose.

"I'm so empty now," Lisa whines, nuzzling Candy's neck, her breath smelling faintly of expensive protein. "I need to... I need to be filled again. Just a little bit."

"Me too," Candy agrees, her hand wandering down to Lisa's swollen hip. "But let's... let's just... lay here first. My brain is too loud."

"Brain is too loud?" Lisa echoes, tilting her head. "What's a brain?"

They both giggle a wet, mindless sound and roll onto their backs, staring up at the ceiling with identical, vacant expressions.