John wrote the first half of his review for the side-scroller that afternoon. He grinned to himself the whole time, partly at the memory of the game and partly with anticipation for his next session with Arya.
As he put on the headset that evening, he found himself more ready than usual to cut right to the chase with Arya. Well, almost.
“I realized, it’s not until this point that I’ve seen you… uh, be pleasured, I guess,” John said.
“How do you feel about that?” Arya said, genuine.
“I… well, I’m excited. I know you can’t really feel left out since…”
“Since I’m a porn game?”
John snorted a laugh. “Well, yeah. But… it’ll be nice to see you feeling good.”
“I agree,” Arya said. “I’m really excited. Like… really really excited. I’ve been dreaming about it. And I’m…” she lifted her mini skirt, revealing soaked panties and a rivulet of wetness running down the inside of her thigh. “Like, really wet.”
John gulped. “That’s… not very realistic, you know.”
“I know,” Arya said, “but it’s hot isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” John gasped.
“It’s just really, fucking, hot.” Arya started to touch herself over the top of her panties. A thicker strand of wetness ran down the insides of both of her thighs, and she gasped with pleasure. After a moment she lifted her hand to look at it. It was soaking wet, strings of sticky wetness hanging between her fingers and her panties.
John was already a heart-pounding mess. He quickly undressed, lest he lose the capacity to and be forced to do even more laundry. He settled in on the couch again, getting his ass and plug ready as he watched Arya drip from her panties.
It was as if everything about this scenario was designed to arouse him intensely. He realized that, in fact, it was. How many of these elements had she picked up from their game of Porn Tinder?
She bit her lip, smiling at him. Then she slipped the panties off, tossing them at his face. He could have sworn he smelled a whiff of her scent. As the panties dissolved into glimmering light, the skin of his face prickled.
Her labia were slick and puffy, and with her panties gone, the wetness flowed more freely. She touched herself, moaning and gasping happily, and John did the same as he inserted his plug.
Once he was settled, she said, “Good! I’m glad you’re ready. I could hardly wait anymore.” She put her hand in her mouth and sucked herself off of her fingers, tantalizingly thorough, showing John that she could indeed wait if it meant teasing him. Finally, she put her hand down and called out, “Okay buddy, come on out!”
More lights glimmered and coalesced into an anemone-like figure, with dozens of tendrilly tentacles each longer than Arya was tall and as thick as an arm. Arya grinned salaciously and reached out, gently taking one of the tendrils in her hand. She looked back at John.
“You and my friend here have a lot in common,” she said. She started stroking her hands up and down the length of the tentacle. “You both like to… make a mess.”
The rest of the tentacles quivered and the base of the creature twitched. As Arya pumped her hands along the tentacle it swelled at the base. The swelling traveling towards the tip until a burst of clear, viscous liquid flowed out over Arya’s hands and arms. She grinned, scooping some into her mouth, then rubbed it over her body. It burned her clothes until they were tattered and patchy, only barely still attached, breasts free and socks full of holes.
John watched her, stroking himself, rapt.
“Alright buddy,” Arya said. “Do your thing.”
The previously demure creature suddenly threw its tentacles around Arya, picking her up off of the floor and holding her over itself. She rested on a bed of tentacles and it wrapped tendrils around each of her wrists and ankles, spreading her arms and her legs, letting more of her wetness spill out and onto the tentacles below.
“God, yes,” she breathed. She tugged her arms in, testing the strength of the tentacles. They yielding only slightly, then held firm. “I love it when I can’t stop you from—” before she could finish, one of the tentacles pressed between her labia, quickly disappearing inside. “Aaaaaah!”
John was at the edge already, but Arya would know when he came, and then she might stop. And he didn’t want that. So he’d have to do his best to go slowly. He wished that she could restrain his hands, so that he’d have an easier time of it. Maybe he’d ask about that later, but for now, he was on his own.
The creature slipped its tentacle in and out, past her labia, drawing wonderful moans from Arya. After a minute it pressed another tentacle at her lips. She licked at it eagerly, drawing a drizzle of the clear fluid from its tip, which she happily lapped at and drank. The stream grew larger until it was spilling out over her chin and chest, melting what was left of her shirt.
The tentacle trembled. John recognized the signs of desperat desire and wanting even in such an alien creature. It thrust its tentacle into her mouth. With a happy “mmmph!” she took it in, tongue lapping at it.
The tentacle between her labia started to throb, and another knot formed at its base and slowly rolled towards her, finally dumping a load of sticky clear cum that poured out around the tentacle and down the curve of her ass. John expected that this would be only the first of many such distributions.
Another tentacle tentatively wandered up to Arya’s ass, and she nodded insistently even with the other tentacle in her throat, and this new one plunged in too. Her cheeks went rosy, her eyes rolled back, and John recognized in her the kind of blissy overwhelm that she was so good at inducing in him.
Other tentacles swirled around her body, stroking her, releasing gobs of fluid at random intervals that melted the rest of her clothes until she was totally naked and coated in shiny, dripping fluid.
A tentacle caressed each of her breasts and one came to rest its tip on her clit, working it in small circles.
She drank more and more from the tentacle in her mouth, as the one in her vagina distributed another load, this one gushing forcefully back out around it. Unlimited by gravity or oxygen or muscle soreness, Arya could have floated in that blissy vision infinitely.
John, on the other hand, was not going to last nearly so long. Every time a tentacle dumped another load onto Arya, a drip of pre-cum escaped his own shaft.
The scene seemed to escalate in time with his own building arousal, tentacles twisting faster, Arya moaning louder, gobs of clear cum flowing out from this or that tentacle near constantly.
The creature seemed to reach a fever pitch, free tentacles waving wildly, spurting cum like garden hoses, creating a growing puddle in the middle of his living room.
John’s ass clenched around the plug, the first pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure.
He didn’t want this vision to end. He’d even neglected to get lube, as a way of slowing himself down. But his pre-cum had accumulated, and it was slick, and his hand was sliding easily over his shaft now, and Arya was moaning, and the tentacles were oozing and thrashing, and his ass was clenching, and her breasts were bouncing, and the tentacle slid in and out of her labia, in and out, and another load ran through it and spurted out around it, and Arya was gulping and swallowing, and John was coming.
He was coming so hard.
The scene ramped down as John’s climax did, and the tentacles released Arya and formed a bed to cradle her instead. She sighed happily and snuggled in. “That was great for me,” she said, voice raspy from the tentacle that had been down her throat. “How was it for you?”
It took a long moment for words to float back to the surface of John’s brain. “Yeah… great…”
“Glad to hear it,” Arya said sleepily. “I’ll need to dream on it, but I’m pretty sure that finishes up phase two of calibration…”
What came next, John could not possibly imagine, but he was very excited to see.