As if they had a life of their own, they continued to pump out streams of tit-jism, gradually emptying their swollen sacs, while

Daphne stood frozen like a statue in the grip of her orgasm.

The only other movement came from her throat which was spasming up and down trying to force air into her lungs, but even her breathing had ceased. Her bulging, staring eyes and grossly distorted, open mouth showed me the terror inside of her; knowing she was running out of oxygen, out of life itself and yet also knowing she was powerless to voluntarily move a muscle.

Her horror increased as she watched her hands continue on their own to squeeze out more and more; her tits beginning to wobble again after emptying out some of the pressure. They must have pumped it out for 30 or 40 seconds! Her fingers were so completely covered with the slime that each stroke filled the room with slippery, squelching, slurping noises. Most of the stuff landed on the tabletop, but much of it streamed down onto my face and clothes. I opened my mouth and tongue to it, drinking in the sweet white syrup even as my prick was pouring out its own juice into my lap.

As she began to come down I thought to myself, "No one has ever seen what you just have and nobody is ever likely to see it again.

And who would believe it, if I told them!". Choking, gurgling noises woke me out of my stupor as I looked up at Daphne. Gentle spasms racked her body from head to toe, like she was shivering in the cold, as the last of the cream oozed from her nipples. It covered her tits, which had come down to their normal size and color. Gooey, white masses of it hung and dripped from her fingers and nipples, which she still had hold of. She gave one last shudder and appeared to come out of her trance, staring at her chest as if not knowing what she had done.