I Can Use Filthy Game Currency In The Real World
Chapter 90: Limitations [R-18+]

Chapter 90: Limitations [R-18+]

Thud.

Tap-tap-tap.

"Huh," I grunted, low and raw.

She spat on it, slicking it up, then went harder. The wet slide of her palm lit me up, my thing throbbing, maxed out, hotter than ever. It couldn’t get any stiffer, but she was pushing it anyway.

"Ah. Feels good..." I mumbled, the words tumbling out.

"Feels good, huh?" she echoed, like she’d plucked the thought right out of my head. It threw me for a sec. I tried to play it cool, but my junk was still out there, betraying me.

"What’s a perv like you got left to be proud of?" she said, smirking as she kept going, her hand relentless. Her eyes locked on mine, cold and judging, like I was dirt.

Tap-tap-tap.

"Ah. Don’t... don’t get into this," I told myself, fighting it.

"Help, you jerk," she muttered, her voice sharp, annoyed.

Those eyes, that cursing, it pissed me off, but it also hooked me. I couldn’t figure out why it bugged me so much.

Thud-thud-thud.

The spit dried, so she hocked another glob onto it, slicking it up again. Her hand flew faster, rougher, and my thing pulsed under her touch, hard, hot, and shameless. She owned it, and I hated how much I didn’t hate it.

Tessa tilted her head, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. "Hmm, let’s see how long you can last," she said, her voice low and playful, like she was daring me to prove something.

I opened my mouth to explain. "Hey, listen, the only reason this even happened is, " But before I could finish, her hand clamped down on my penis, firm and sudden.

"Damn it," I muttered, breath catching in my throat. Then, "Oh!" slipped out as her grip tightened, pulling a groan from me I couldn’t hold back.

My words tripped over each other as I tried to keep up. "What... what’s so tough about this... no, wait, that’s not it," I stammered, flustered. I sucked in a breath and tried again. "Hey, why do you always talk so sharp? Are you younger than me or something?"

Tessa’s eyes flicked to mine, cool and piercing. "No," she shot back, short and crisp, leaving me scrambling to figure her out.

I might’ve been young and tongue-tied, but her intensity hit me hard, stinging my pride enough to make my eyes water. Why was she acting like this, throwing jabs and insults like it was nothing? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

She didn’t let up. "Hmm," she hummed, her tone mocking now. "What’s your deal? You like this, pushing for everything, then playing dumb when I push back?"

I blinked, thrown off. "...What?" I mumbled, totally lost.

"You’re a damn good actor," she said with a smirk, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Here, lift it like this." Her hand moved, guiding me with a few firm thumps.

Suddenly, it clicked, her taunts and touches snapping into place like pieces of a messed-up puzzle. I was in deep.

I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up here. Had I asked for this? Begged her, even? It felt that way, with how she was running the show.

Someone else might’ve loved this, felt like they’d won the lottery, getting tossed around by her. But me? Playing this part was wearing me thin. Why was I even letting it happen?

"This... it’s tough," I admitted, voice shaky as I fought to stay steady.

Tessa just hummed again, calm and unbothered, like she didn’t care either way.

She leaned in closer, eyes glinting. "What, not gonna finish quick?" she teased, daring me again.

"With just your hand?" I asked, half-shocked she’d even try.

"What? Just a hand?" she fired back, eyebrow raised.

I hesitated, then let it slip. "A hand’s not gonna do it..."

Her fingers kept moving, steady and rhythmic, thump, thump, thump, like she was testing me.

Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "You’ve seen my videos, right? A lot of them?"

I nodded, playing it cool. "Yeah, sure, I guess."

She laughed, sharp and cutting. "Every guy who’s hooked on my stuff starts out talking like you."

My stomach flipped. Oh, crap, I thought, caught off guard.

Truth was, I’d stretched the truth. I’d only seen one video, her dancing naked earlier today. There were more files waiting, but I hadn’t gotten around to them. No time.

Tessa didn’t wait for me to fumble an excuse. She stood up, grabbed a bottle of gel from somewhere nearby, and came back. She was still in that black tracksuit, not a single layer peeled off.

With a quick flick, she popped the cap and squeezed the gel onto my penis. Thump, thump, thump, her hand moved again, and the cool, slick gel made everything glide, way smoother than the spit from before. Her touch softened too, fingers sliding with a new kind of skill.

"Ugh," I grunted, feeling it hit me.

She smirked, confidence radiating off her. "Let’s see how long you can hold on," she said, stroking up and down like it was a game she knew she’d win.

She switched it up, one hand, then two, wrapping and sliding with purpose. A hand’s not enough, I thought, but the thumping rhythm kept going, thump, thump, thump.

Sometimes a hand could outdo anything else, but right now? It wasn’t cutting it. Still, I gritted my teeth and pushed through.

I had faith in myself. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but I wasn’t most guys. My stamina and control were solid, I’d give them a 60 out of 60 if I had to score it.

It kept me steady, riding a buzz of pleasure without losing it completely.

Tessa tilted her head again, sizing me up. "Wow, you’re tougher than I thought," she said, sounding almost impressed.

"Yeah, well, that means your hand’s not enough," I shot back, catching my breath.

She hummed, eyes flashing with curiosity and a spark of thrill, her hands still working me over.

Is she... into this? I wondered, watching her.

I couldn’t catch every word, my head was spinning, but one line cut through clear as day: "These are the jerks who finish with their hands watching my videos."

Wait, did that mean she’d done this a million times before? I couldn’t shake the thought.

People were weird, some loved getting bossed around, others lived for pushing back. Maybe she knew them all.

"I’ve got you pegged, you little punk," she said, voice sharp as a blade. Then, , she unzipped her sweatshirt, and my eyes locked onto her chest. No pause, she yanked the zipper down and tossed the jacket aside, showing off a white sleeveless top underneath.

Her breasts were perfect, not too big, not too small, just right to fit in your hands.

"Trash like you doesn’t get the real thing," she snapped. "Suck it through this."

I froze. "...Huh?" I said, totally thrown.

She didn’t wait for me to catch up. Her right breast pressed against my mouth, her left hand gripping my penis tight. Up close, I saw it, no bra, just that thin white top holding her free.

This is ridiculous, I thought, half-laughing at the mess of it. She acted like she was over it, but she wasn’t blowing me away either.

"Suck," she barked, shoving her chest harder into my face.

The rough fabric scratched my lips, but I found her nipple under it. Slurp, I started, and she growled, "Ugh, you’re so annoying, you bastard!"

Screw it, I’d do it right. My tongue flicked out, teasing her nipple through the top. I soaked it with spit, and I could feel it perk up, hard as a rock now.

Slurp, slurp, the wet sounds mixed with her hand’s steady thump, thump, thump. It was loud, messy, and wild.

If I was into this kind of thing, like she’d hinted, I’d be over the moon. But I wasn’t that guy.

Still, I went harder on her nipple, not letting her hands steal the show. Before long, her top was dripping wet from my spit.

"This... you damn bastard..." she hissed, her voice cracking a little.

"You can’t finish me with your hand," I threw back, pushing her. "What about your mouth?"

"Wow," she said, pulling her hand off me like she was done. She leaned back, and there it was, a soaked patch on her right breast, shining like a prize from all my spit.

"Looks good, doesn’t it?"

I couldn’t help but notice how her breasts teased through the thin fabric of her shirt, soft curves pressing just enough to catch my eye. But the real kicker?

That faint pink flush creeping up her cheeks. By now, I’d figured her out. Tessa lived for this, getting a rush from winding guys up, watching them squirm under her control.

’So, the goal’s clear: get her to kneel and kiss me.’

Yeah, right. Making someone like her, someone who thrived on calling the shots, drop to her knees and surrender? Even thinking it felt like a punchline to a bad joke.

"You know who I am, don’t you?" she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a playful dare.

I blinked, thrown off. "What? Where’d that come from?"

She leaned in closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "I don’t ever use my mouth."