octo risotto

“He—” I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy, a foreign, slightly bitter taste on my tongue. “Help!” My voice was so weak and thready, there was no way anyone would hear me, not through what I was now recognizing as sound-proof padding on the walls. What had happened to me? I couldn't remember. I didn't know where I was, had no idea why I was here.

Maybe you and I do deserve to suffer for our wrongdoing. If that’s so, then it means that when things get painful, when things get difficult, we don’t have the luxury of quitting. We don’t get to end our lives to escape what we did. Whatever form the pain takes, we bear it, we endure it, we welcome it, all while we try to make this world a place where people like us, like how we used to be, have no place, and the people who would be hurt can instead live in peace. The next time you encounter an obstacle you cannot overcome, when you just want to curl up into a ball and quit on the world, remind yourself that you don’t deserve the peace of surrender. You have to keep working, to keep fighting, to keep suffering, until the day when you’ve fully repented.

Of course I didn’t refuse, but I had just cum twice, harder than ever in my life, in less than an hour. I was pretty certain there was no way I was going to get hard again. But I squeezed her ass around my cock and used her butt cheeks to stroke my cock. Carol moved her hips to help me slide, reaching between her legs to grab my balls. She finished cleaning the island and turned to face me. I bent down and kissed her, and she plunged her tongue into my mouth. It was a sticky, sweet, salty mixture coating her tongue.