EPISODE 04: Operation Mile High Club 11

Attention: Link to the time limited uncensored and uncropped version at the end of this story bit.

Ana melted under Baram's relentless finger banging. Face flushed. Pussy lips tightened. Senses overloaded. Body quivering out of control. Baram’s face lit up with anticipation. “That’s it. Say it. Say you are mine.” She commanded, but Ana held on, biting her lips and shutting her eyes.

She was so close and Baram was growing desperate as she herself inched toward ecstasy.

So Baram wrapped her limbs tight around Ana and kicked away from the wall with a sensuous grunt. The pair rolled off the table and landed on the ground with Baram on top. “Mine!” Repeated Baram as she pulled on the president’s head by the hair, burying her face deep into her crotch - smothering her.

Meanwhile Ana was unable to keep up with the onslaught of her senses. Gasping for air, she instinctively arched her back and raised her hips, offering up her own pussy up for Baram’s eager fingers once more.

It was a matter of control. Baram needed Ana to know who was in control of both her pleasure and pain. If the president wanted air, it was Baram who would decide how much of it she would get. Lifting her hips by a sliver, she pulled back on Ana’s hair just enough for her to smell her conqueror.

“Say it.” She repeated and by then Ana was ready to capitulate, her body writhing left and right under Baram who rode her face like a wild buffalo. Her mind and body are no longer her own. Moaning out her surrender. “I’m yours.”

On cue, Baram focused on Ana and muttered something under her breath. A tingling electrical sensation passed through them like a wave and the president slumped back onto the floor at peace with the pinkish afterglow of the Hex flickering across her eyes.

Baram let go of Ana’s head and raised her arms into the air victorious. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She squealed excitedly, savoring the moment and grinding her crotch on Ana’s face as a reflex. Her own wetness running down her inner thighs onto the face of the woman between her legs.

“You got her?” asked Visage with its childlike digital voice.

“Yes!” replied Baram, half affirmation, half moan.

“You certain?” pressured Visage.

“Oh yes!” Repeated Baram glancing down at Ana between the thighs.

“Then why am I seeing her tracker signature moving away from yours?” queried Visage, and those words send a chill running up Baram’s spine. Not only because of the realization that the ‘assistant’ was making a run for it, but because the cabin was rapidly depressurizing.

(To be continued.)

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