Cold Sweat

by Vera Valentine

I’m a man that happens to be a glass pitcher of liquid, not blind. You’re gorgeous.”

a clear glass shaft with a simple bulbed head, all surrounding a thick internal column of the red cherry punch that filled Red’s body. The punch surged in and out of the closed-ended tube in colorful eddies, making it jump and pulse in my palm as I stroked.

You taste like heaven and I’d wear you on my face if I could.

“I swell when I come, Jules, so be ready for it. You’re a tight fit but you’re going to take it all, aren’t you? Gonna fill you up to the top…my good little cup…”

“Give it to me, Red. Fill me up until it’s running out of my pussy. I wanna be your…your…” My brain sluggishly recalled some of the filthy things he was murmuring earlier, weaponizing them as lust grabbed the reins. “...make me your good little cup, Red. I’m so thirsty.”

“So. Fucking. Perfect. You’re gonna fucking drain me Jules…I’m gonna quench…I’m gonna…ohh…ohhhhhh….” OH YEAH!

“Well I’m sure as hell not complaining. You look damn good in my punch, little cup.”

“Mmm…you’re so refreshing Red. I could drink a whole glass of you.” “That’s right, Jules. Suck me down like the thirsty little cup you are.”

“Do you realize how often I’m going to have to top off my punch now, baby? I’m going to pump so much into you, pour it all over you, every fucking chance you give me.”