A Question of Lust

"That's the sort of thing we like to hear," he says. She's still not looking at him, but she knows he's giving her a thumbs up--it's one of his little trademarks, like the smirk and the massive cock that's probably rock-hard right now, just waiting to be sucked and licked and humped and taken up the ass and into her cunt and--

She bites down on her lip as he starts to ask the next question. "For forty thousand dollars, which female vocalist accidentally exposed her breast during Superbowl XXXVII? Was it..." Megan loses track of the question, she's too busy thinking about breasts. How has she not noticed before how tempting, how luscious, how suckable and lickable they are? And every woman has them, everywhere. Billions and billions of women, all with gorgeous tits just waiting for Megan to bury her face in them and lick and lick and lick...

By the time her mind refocuses, Parker has completely finished the question. "I, um...I'm sorry," she says in a voice about an octave higher than normal. "Could you repeat the choices?" They're up on the monitor, but her eyes are stinging as sweat drips into them and she can't wipe it away without losing the game.

"Certainly, Megan," Parker says with a knowing tone in his voice. "A, Avril Lavigne, B, Alanis Morrisette, C, Janet Jackson, or D, Britney Spears?"

Megan's vaguely proud of the fact that she only pictures the four singers in a lesbian orgy for a few seconds before managing to husk out, "C."

She's a little less proud of the fact that she immediately drifts right back into the fantasy, and it takes Parker a couple of tries to get her attention again before he can ask, "Final answer, Megan?"

Megan takes a long, shuddery breath. "Final answer."

She doesn't even hear Parker say, "Correct!" Everything goes blood-red; sight and sound fade away as her pussy throbs like a second heartbeat. She feels her clit, swollen and pulsing in tune with every breath she takes as if the air itself was licking her out. It takes her a long moment to notice the high-pitched whine, and an even longer moment to realize she's making it. When Parker asks, "Do you want to keep going, Megan, or safeword out?" it sounds like he's speaking at the wrong speed.

"K-k-keep going," she gasps. It's not bravado this time. Megan can't remember her safeword. She can't really think of anything anymore except for her pussy and her tits and her ass and oh fuck, even her feet feel like erogenous zones now, she feels like a touch anywhere on her body would make her cum. But squirming in the chair gives no release. It only makes it worse.

"Then for eighty thousand dollars, Megan, which of these countries is not in South America? A, Brazil. B, Argentina. C, Peru. Or D, Guatemala?"

Megan notices that he's pausing longer between each choice. Probably just playing for drama, unless he likes to draw out her erotic torture by giving her more time between each word to notice the feverish passion raging in her whole body now, driving her mad with need...desperately, Megan tries to think of anything other than sex. It's no good. Argentina reminds her of 'Evita', and that makes her think of Antonio Banderas, his eyes smoldering as they're framed by the valley between her thighs and she can't, she has to, she needs to...

"I'm going to use my final lifeline," she whimpers out, moments before her resistance collapses.

"I think we'd all be happy to see that," Parker says, and she knows he's got that damned smirk on his face but she doesn't care, she mewls in gratitude as he hands her a thick rubber dildo. "Remember, your lifeline only gives you five minutes to pleasure yourself."

It doesn't even take her five seconds to cum. She slides the dildo in, her pussy so slick and wet that she takes its whole length like she was sinking it into warm butter, and her cunt clenches and grabs at the fake cock as she cums so hard. It's amazing, her body is so primed and ready that she feels another orgasm hit almost before the first one's subsided, and she wishes that someone would hurry up and find a way to miniaturize this technology, because this is the best fucking sex she's ever had in her life. She wants to do this every day, wants to drag Jean and Dave in front of the Eroticon and turn it all the way up, lose her mind completely in lust and fuck them both the way the toy is fucking her now. She pounds it roughly into herself, grunting madly with each thrust as she rides it to orgasm after orgasm. She knows she's going to be sore tomorrow, but right now she doesn't care. Even the soreness feels good when she's this horny.

It doesn't feel like it's been even a minute when Parker says, "Time's up!" He takes the dildo away from her, and she shudders all over again at the feel of it slipping out of her wet cunny. "Arms and legs in position, please..."

Megan races to comply. The buttons feel slick to her touch now, and she knows that it's her own pussy juices that she's feeling. She feels a strange compulsion to lick it off, but the frantic masturbation has cleared her mind enough for her to remember just what a bad idea that is. With a deep breath, she steadies herself. "D, Guatemala," she says, looking up at the monitor. "Final answer." Her voice is shaky, but clear.

"And that is..." Parker pauses for a long moment, long enough for some of the endorphins to buzz out Megan's brain and leave her in a warm, fuzzy afterglow. "Correct!" Megan sags in her chair in a warm daze, the mix of heady post-coital bliss mingling with the next setting of the Eroticon to turn her brain to mush. She still can't remember her safeword. She can't remember much of anything anymore. She nods vacantly at Parker's question with only the barest realization of what it is.

"Then let's play...'A Question of Lust'!" Megan feels a vague irritation at the catch-phrase, but she knows that they use it to come in and out of the commercials on TV. "This next question is another safe point, Megan. If you get this one right, you're guaranteed at least one hundred twenty-five thousand dollars! So, for a hundred twenty five thousand dollars, Megan, which country used the lira as its unit of currency before it switched to the euro in 2002? Is it A, France? B, Italy? C, Spain? Or D, Belgium?"

This is the really hard area, Megan remembers. The questions are still hard enough that you have to think about them, but your pussy is too horny to think about...pussy, God that felt good when that dildo was crammed up her cunt and stretching her fuck-hole. Maybe they'd let her do that again if she asked?

The lira, she reminds herself. This one's easy, easy like a horny teenage boy that she could seduce just by flashing her pussy at him and watching his dick pop up like a pup tent in his pants, so horny that he'd be ready to go again as soon as he came, and she'd be so ready too, she'd--

Megan closes her eyes and focuses her whole mind on the mental image of giving Wilford Brimley a sponge bath. Her libido tries desperately to stay aroused, and Megan hopes she's not breaking something inside her head--the last thing she needs is to develop a fetish for septuagenarians. But it does the trick. She opens her eyes and looks at the monitor. "B!" she exclaims. "Final answer!"

"Correct!" Parker replies, and suddenly even Wilford Brimley looks good to her. The tiny part of Megan's brain that can still think changes its mind about wanting a portable version of this--it'd end human civilization. Everyone would be so consumed with lust that they'd forget to eat and sleep. Even if someone handed her food right now, Megan thinks, she'd try to use it as a sex toy.

"Uh-huh," Megan says, and she only dimly realizes that Parker wasn't asking her about sex toys when he keeps talking. Something about a question. Money. He's asking her something about...it's no use. Her brain just keeps drifting away into thoughts of sex, and it's only pure instinct that keeps her from letting go of the chair when her thoughts melt down into her pussy and from there onto the chair.

He's looking at her expectantly, Megan realizes. He must have asked her something. "Yes?" she says hesitantly, and the audience laughs.

Parker laughs too. His cock wiggles when he laughs. Megan can't stop staring at it--she can't remember when she stopped looking at the monitor and started looking at him, but now she can't stop. His cock is huge, and she's drooling as she stares at it. She just barely hears him this time as he says, "I said, A, the Sex Pistols, B, the Clash, C, the Ramones, or D, the New York Dolls?"

"I, um..." Megan stares blankly ahead like a deer in the headlights. She doesn't know what the question is, let alone the answer. All four choices just seem like random words.

"Would you like to safeword out, Megan?" She's totally lost track of strategy. She doesn't remember how much she'd lose if she safeworded out, but it doesn't matter because she doesn't remember her safeword anyway. She can barely remember her name.

"I, um...no..um..." She's babbling now. She knows that she's going to feel like a complete idiot when she watches this later, but right now she's too horny to care. All she can do is blurt out, "D?" and hope for a quick end to it all.

"Is that your final answer, Megan?"

She nods, then realizes that she needs to say it. "Yes," she snaps out, waiting for the inevitable buzzer so that she can quit caring about the stupid game and finger-fuck herself.

"Correct!" Parker says, the astonishment clear in his voice. Megan's so surprised, she almost forgets how horny she is for half a second. But the Eroticon doesn't let her forget. It wrings the arousal from her exhausted, sweat-slippery body and her hands tremble and dance on the buttons as she struggles to keep them there a tiny bit longer. They're cramping up from the effort, but even the pain feels good now. She can imagine herself being whipped with a riding crop, clothespins clamped onto her pussylips, welcoming the sensations just as much as she would welcome any kiss or caress. Everything makes her hotter and hotter now, needier and hornier and...and...

She nods automatically at Parker's question. She barely even registers the words, all she can think of is that maybe if she keeps agreeing with him, he'll fuck her. She wants that, now, wants it so bad that only her death-grip on the buttons keeps her from lunging out of the chair and tackling him.

"Then for five hundred thousand dollars, Megan..." Megan idly wonders when they got to that much money, but then her thoughts sink on a tide of blood-red lust and she barely even hears him ask, "Who's the current President of the United States? A, Barack Obama? B, Joe Biden? C, Hilary Clinton? Or D, Sarah Palin?"

"Doesn't matter," she says with a dreamy look in her eyes. "They're all pretty sexy." The audience laughs at that one, too. She knows she's not going to win this. She's too far gone, her brain is nothing but a gooey mess of horny slutty kinky sexy oh fuck she needs dick in her right fucking now...

"I'm afraid I need an answer, Megan, unless you want to safeword out," Parker says apologetically.

Megan tries to concentrate. Obama, Biden, Clinton, Palin...she tries to think about which one she'd like to fuck the most. "Barack Obama," she decides.

"Is that your final answer?" Parker asks.

"Yes," Megan sighs out, already lost in fantasies of being bent over a desk and taken roughly from behind by the President--oh! Obama's the President! "Wait," she cries out. "I want to change my answer!" She can't remember what her answer was, but she knows the right answer now.

"Too late," Parker says. "I'm afraid you already locked that in as your final answer." Megan practically wants to cry, she's so frustrated (and horny and needy and, and--) "But you're better off not changing it, Megan, because that is correct!"

And with that, she's gone. Her eyes are still staring straight ahead, but she's not seeing anything. Her pussy is leaking all over the chair, her body is aching with need, her nipples feel like someone's been rubbing them with an ice cube for the last five minutes and she wishes someone would. She's nodding her head up and down, moaning out "Yes, oh please yes," to whatever it is Parker says, and one of her fingers slips off the button as she thinks about how damned good it would feel to jill off right now.

Parker says something else, and she blurts out, "Will you please fuck me?" in response, in a tiny little voice that's absolutely desperate with lust. She closes her eyes, imagining his cock inside her, and now two fingers have slipped off the button, but with an effort of willpower she didn't even know she had she manages to open her eyes and stare up at the monitor. It's blurry and she doesn't seem to want to focus on much of anything anymore except the feelings in her cunt but she still manages to read the question. "What is your mother's maiden name?" it says. "A) Hartford, B) Colt, C) Goodwin, D) Swenson."

The thought of her mother is like ice water poured onto her libido, clearing her head just long enough to groan out, "A, Final answer."

She doesn't even hear words anymore after that. She's lost track of how much money she's made, now. She knows it's a lot. She knows she stands to lose most of it if she doesn't safeword out, because she's barely got one finger on the button and her knees are quaking like she's just seen a ghost, and she doesn't have a hope in hell of holding on much longer. She knows she picked something easy for the safeword, something she could always remember, but she never imagined in her life that she could feel this horny. She never imagined that pure sexual need could blank out her brain this bad. And she never imagined that she'd enjoy it so fucking much.

She hears herself through a distant haze of lust, panting out "oh fuck, oh God please fuck me, fuck me hard in the ass fuck my pussy pound my cunny oh fuck please need cock need pussy need titties guh guh God need to fuck," and even that makes her hotter until she can't think at all.

She loses herself completely to fantasy, the thought of Dave teasing her now more solid and vivid as the stage around her. She remembers his fingers brushing at her pussy during their practice sessions, tracing around her inner thighs until she can't take it anymore, and she begs and whimpers for him to fuck her, but he just smiles and teases her some more. "You can do it, babe," he whispers in her ear, "I know you can..."

And then, when she finally really really can't take it anymore, she mewls softly like a little girl. "Please fuck my horny little honey-hole," she says, her pet name for her pussy slipping out before she can stop herself.

It's all too much, the fantasy and the reality and the need bursting over her like a dam breaking, and she's too far gone to care as she lets go of the handgrips and jams three fingers into her hot and needy pussy. It feels so good when her pussylips stretch around them, and so much better to feel her slick and dripping cunny around those fingers. Her other hand drops to her clit and rubs, and rubs, and rubs as she cums and cums and cums and it's worth every penny to feel those unbelievable orgasms ripping through her.

And then it stops. Just like that, the stimulation breaks off, leaving her exhausted and wrung out. "Congratulations, Megan!" Parker says. "One point two five million dollars!"

She looks up at him blearily, the rush of endorphins on top of her exhaustion leaving her feeling like she's got a wad of cotton stuffed into her head where her brain was. "Million?" she says, trying to parse it. "But I was...the safe point is a hundred twenty-five thousand." She looks down at her hand, still deep in her pussy. She looks over at the buttons. Nothing seems to make sense right now.

Parker chuckles. "You safeworded, Megan. Don't you remember?"

Megan thinks back, trying to remember everything she said in her haze of lust. "Oh," she says at last, blushing. She didn't think she could be embarrassed by anything at this point, but somehow this manages to make her feel a little silly. "Right. 'Honey-hole'." She shrugs. At least it worked the way it was supposed to.

She stands up on woozy legs to accept the check. "Any ideas how you'll spend the money?" Parker asks.

"I don't know," she says, only half-joking. "How much do those Eroticon things cost again?"

THE END