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Chapter 5 by ZincStandard ZincStandard

Will you?

Nah.

"No," you reply nonchalantly. Releasing the goth, you turn your full attention back to the punk, holding her by the hips once more and kicking your fucking into top gear.

Her glare turns into a look of dismay for a second, then a resigned eyeroll. "Fuck, great. Fine. Fucking knock me up, what do I even care?" You don't let up, fully intent on doing just that.

A few more thrusts is all it takes. With a groan, you bury yourself deep inside the punk and release your load, filling her pussy with the first thick jet of your spunk. As you paint her insides, her look of disgust immediately melts into one of ecstasy as she succumbs to an orgasm of her own, her eyes rolling back and her tongue lolling out, a deep cry of pleasure tearing its way free of her lungs. You grind your hips against her ass, drawing out your own climax and pouring every drop of cum you can muster as deep inside her as you can, determined to breed the bitch.

As your orgasm peters out, you carefully pull your hips back and withdraw from the punk girl. As your softening cock pops free, a thick gush of semen follows it, splattering on the floor between her boots. With her climax ended as well, her face returns to its seemingly default glare, though a hint of redness in her cheeks spoils the impression a little.

Glancing around as you catch your breath, you find the goth bitch once again leaning back against the bar. Her gaze is trained on your cock and her friend's pussy, and while her eyes are still narrowed slightly, you're pleased to see she has a hand down the front of her panties, stroking her clit to the sight. Picking herself up, the freshly fucked punk turns back to her friend; her face twists in shock and affront. "What the fuck?"

"Sorry," the goth says with a shrug, still jilling herself. "But that was pretty hot."

The punk snorts and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I should make you eat this shit out of my cunt. And you better believe you're helping me raise this kid."

"Sure," the goth girl replies, sounding resigned.

Satisfied, you decide you don't need another drink after all. Your friend should be back from the bathroom by now anyway, and he's probably wondering where you are. Without a farewell to the pair, you turn to leave, steeling yourself to rejoin the crowd near the stage.

What's next?

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