The Sperm free porn video

They were having sex; Jack could hear the furtive grunts and cries as his best friend and his latest flame groped each other's bodies. And here he was alone, again. He thought that this camping trip during Break would help to raise his spirits. So much for that idea. Almost seriously he wished on the shooting star that streaked in a sparkling arc across the night sky. wished for... what? A girlfriend? Casual sex? Or something in between? When he heard the impact, and saw the burst of flames, it almost occured to him that the nearby impact of the meteorite was perhaps an endorsement of his vague, wishful yearnings.

Jack hastily brushed aside a strand of his blond hair as he ran with undefined anticipation towards the crash site. As he suspected, the meteorite left a burning trail of grass, bushes, and soil from the frictional heat of its entry in Earth's atmosphere. Wow, Jack had never examined one so close and... and... now that's an odd meteor... The thing was long; tubular-shaped almost; though shriveled from the heat of its reckless flight through the sky. At the end of a sizzling, scorched path, there lay a grey structure about... maybe the size of one of those huge olive-loaf sausages... but maybe a little wider. Stranger yet was the fact the back end was breached, or maybe it was designed to open up. Sharp, acrid smoke billowed from the surface of the hot, extraterrestrial object, and from the open end there was... some sort of liquid?

Jack, overwhelmed with curiosity, grabbed a nearby stick and began to prod the anamoly. The surface was elastic and yielding, almost like rubber perhaps, yet clearly overwhelmingly more resilient than Earthly plastics if it was able to survive the heat and impact of a fall from space. And inside... There was a white, sticky material that Jack prodded next. Soft... liquid... almost gelatinous. He tentatively lifted a globbet of the fluid in the air onto the stick.

"It... It could be alive? Extraterrestrial, alien life?!" Apparently so. The fluid was something like syrup, yet more viscous, definitely gelatinous. It was a pale, milky white. Almsot transparent when thinly spread, but cloudy in larger clumps. He watched fascinated as it flowed and oozed down the stick with a slithery, yet almost deliberate pace. If he didn't know any better, Jack would have thought that the slime was crawling down the stick and...

"YAAH!"

It leaped! The white glob seemed to spurt forward onto the flesh of his hand! Once a viscous tendril had made contact, the remainder of the glob surged forward, covering his fore arm in less time than it took to say it! He dropped the stick, howling instintively as the... the... you know... it almost looked like loads, and loads of... of... sperm?

He thought it was a predator; he thought it was dangerous; but as the fluid engulfed Jack's arm, he felt... he felt...

"ORGASM!" she shrieked! "M-my f-first... *real* Orgasm!" Susie declared. The strawberry blond hair plastered to her sweating face. "The Others... never gave me... UUUNGGH!!" she ran her nails down Brad's back as he concluded, blasting his load into her. He didn't respond at first to her declaration, an eloquent endorsement of his masculine vigor. Made all the more expressive by her slender legs entwined about his rippling ass. Brad knew that Susie liked to cuddle, so with hands kneading the pliant flesh of her rosy C-cup boobs, he prepared to descend upon her again, reveling in the sensuous bliss of their mingled, nude flesh. The air in the small tent seeming a few degrees warmer from the coupled exertions of their youthful sex drives.

As the pair clutched each other, post-coital exhalations combining as thoroughly as their sexual fluids, Brad expected his urge to diminish. So he thought. Instead, his cock remained more rigid than ever as he noticed the first touch. Jerking around his dark-haired, crew-cut head, he saw the milky, slimy tendril engulfing his lower calf. Susie gasped as the hot slime oozed onto her inner thigh. There should have been fear; this... this was some kinda... monster or something! Brad should have screamed in panic, wrenched himself free and fled into the night; Susie slung over his shoulder, yet he did not.

Instead, his penis reinserted itself into Susie's moist lips. The rising tide of impossible lust was far stronger than his fear, an impossible passion swept over both of them. It was an iron-clad prison of voluptuous flesh, a sudden surge of need stronger than the willful volition that drove any of Brad's most basic motions. Yet... despite the strangeness of the eerie, white slime crawling over their bodies, neither Brad nor Susie could muster the Fear they would need to escape; neither could muster enough common sense panic to overcome their aching need to grind their sex organs against each other.

The milky puddle of living slime oozed deliberately, almost intelligently into the tent, but for some unearthly reason, Brad and Susie couldn't care less.

He couldn't be bothered by the guilt; Jason would not be swayed from this goal; from finally proving the theory that nagged him, tormented him. Yes, peeking into other dorm rooms *could* get him in trouble, but the risk was small compared to the potential benefits that might arise from proving his theory; proving the existence of the paranormal.

Specifically; proving the existence of Succubi.

Jason wasn't sure exactly when the trouble had started; did the Dreams start when he began covering the chapter on medieval superstitions? Or had the Dreams prompted his investigation of this phenomenon? The strange tales of sexual demons that preyed on men in the night. It was all sort of a jumble; there was no telling what the connection was. Fred Hendrick was writhing on the sheets in his dorm room, Jason surreptitiously checking the keyhole, to see if *she* would come.

Though he considered himself a cosmopolitan student of history, he couldn't help but laugh at the superstitions of his ancestors; he remembered reading quotes from so-called 'scholars' of the middle-ages, saying that '... The deeds of succubi and incubi were so numerous that it would be impudent to deny them.' Superstition to be sure; or so he'd once believed. The strange cases of anemia that had hospitalized some of his college buddies wasn't enough by itself to sway his mind, but then there were the dreams.

He could hear the moaning, as Fred thrashed in yearning within the confines of his dream. Jason could almost taste the cold sweat as the sophomore a room across from him gurgled out his furtive yearning in a dream only he could experience. That was what Jason had started to call Phase 1. Somehow, the creature would insert itself into the dreams of her victim. They would usually be grim, depressing, arduous visions, and then *she* would appear, like a beacon of light, the succubi, (in human form) would seem like a breath of fresh air, the light at the end of a tunnel of drudgery. And just as the man reaches out to touch her, the dream vanishes.

And thus Fred had awakened night after night. But Jason thought he had seen her, thought that she was ready to move on with this one. That was why he watched; to try and glimpse her, perhaps photograph some supernatural event or ability, vindicating his suspicions while making a name for himself. Soon, when the prey's hunger for her had become an obsession, the creature would appear before him, testing him, offering glimers of hope that his yearning might be fulfilled.

When the first flutters of movement appeared at the edge of Fred's window, despite his confidence Jason was still more than a little surprised. The flutter soon became a steady lowering of a pair of dainty feet. Female feet; descending as though suspended by nothing more than dreams and desire. The door being directly across from Fred's window allowed Jason an almost full view of the paranormal proceedings. Camcorder at the ready, he was able to capture, however faintly, the ghostly scene.

It was too dark for facial features to be visible, but the creature could not hide the supple curves of toned, female legs, wide hips as it lowered its sleek frame to gaze with vampiric intent into the dorm room. Did she have the classical giant bat-wings? Jason couldn't tell; he thought there was a fluttering; but it was too dark, too far away to be sure. But neither the dim light nor the obfuscation from looking into a key-hole could hide the ripe delight of her callimastian curves; her feminine bounty. But no, if Jason was right, this creature wasn't a woman, might not be female at all; it was apparently some paranormal abomination, mimicking a woman that it might prey upon mankind.

The erotic apparition ran a delicate hand from the tender slopes of her neck, across her soft clavicle down between the shadowed hemispheres of breasts whose buoyant perkiness could only be described as supernatural. The response was simultaneous in her prey. Fred raised a hand, groping his own neck. Fred Hendrick was a fairly popular basketball player, but had also made the Dean's list from his academic accomplishments; if he had a weakness it was being too soft-hearted. Jason was certain that a recent, painful breakup from his girlfriend had left him vulnerable to a succubus. He tensed the corded muscles in his throat; feeling on his own body the places where the succubus touched herself.

Fred ground his shoulder-length auburn hair into his pillow; caught in the throes of an dream more erotic than any human had a right too. Gasping sharply, his hand followed a course matching the demon's own, as her graceful fingers teased her hardened nipples, through valleys of cleavage, down through the alabaster terrain of her silken belly, past the subtle slope between her thighs towards the wet center of her womanly lips. A curved finger thrusting... in... out... in... But the distance, and the glass between them kept Jason from hearing the no doubt lurid slurps that probably emanted from a pussy rich with juice. The unearthly creature shuddered with her pleasure, night-black hair fluttered like a seductive aura about her milky-soft shoulders.

The dream was surely unnatural; a normal human should have awakened from the intensity of the sensations; but Fred was drugged by sexual sorcery beyond mortal ken. Instead, eyes still closed, he gurgled, while clutching his own rock-hard penis. Squeezing his rod with desperate might, he approached climax from his sympathetic connection with the nude abomination hovering outside his window. As the succubus drove herself into rapture, even Jason from his distance through the keyhole could see fog clouding the glass as this belle of the night panted her lust onto the cool surface.

By the time Fred's desire became too great; when he howled with yearning and awakened, still gripping his now 7-inches of hardened manmeat, the demon had fluttered away, leaving him alone with his lust. Jason turned and left with a shudder as Fred, weeping with frustration jerked himself to complete the aborted orgasm.

Jason's flinty blue eyes narrowed in annoyance; he would never be able to record any sort of compelling evidence playing peeping-Tom like this. He rose to his full, impressive stature of a little over six-feet, brushed back his slick, brown hair as he returned to his own adjacent room.

"What to do... how to get more evidence..." And it was then that a pop-up ad appeared on his computer screen advertising miniature spy cameras; rush-delivery available.

Yes, it was pathetic and desperate; But Todd could find no other way to quelch his terrible yearning. With fumbling hands, he locked the bathroom door, unzipped his pants. Crystal Henemore wouldn't even give him the time of day! He was flunking Calculus because he couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from her sleek, tanned curves. The delicate slopes of her feminine figure. The way her tousled mane of auburn-gold hair caught the light; framing a smooth face finely crafted to complement her sargasso-green eyes.

But he couldn't succeed; the cold beauty was apparently too career-minded, and probably would have nothing to do with any except the most highly competent, attractive men. Certainly not Todd. He could not have her, he could not stop wanting her. His efforts had been in vain since the start of the semester!

"Crystaaaal..." he gurgled, while stroking his 8-inch cock; his best feature, which Crystal would clearly never discover. Beneath his freshly-styled, center-part haircut (another futile ploy to gain the girl's elusive favors) Todd's face contorted in tortured ecstasy as the sensations began.

It should not have been possible; why should he be disturbed now? His roommate was out for the night; yet there was an insistent knocking on his dorm window! And he was on the 4th story! Wh-who could... grumbling his dismay, he zipped up to examine the continuous, persistent tapping on the window; to violent and constant to be accidental.

What drove him most was the fear; yes there was the surprise, the jaw-dropping amazement; but mainly fear at seeing the object of his auto-erotic ministrations out there; clinging to his 4th-floor window sill, as naked as the say she was born. Yes, staring at him through the glass was indeed dear, sweet, Crystal Henemore, and in less than a moment the window was open, and her sweaty, naked, bronze-tanned body body was wrapped in Todd's arms. Very sweaty, and quite noticeably naked!

"H-how... ?" he started, but Crystal stopped him with an index finger to his lips.

"I realized how cruel I've been to you these few weeks; I... I've been playing hard-to-get, and..." her green eyes melted. "I think I got carried away and hurt you!" her sweet voice was close to sobbing. "So... so I climbed your dorm building, to... to get your attention... so you'd believe me when I apologized!" Wow! Todd didn't think that Crystal even knew where his room was? But climbing the building!? And yet... here she was... naked... sweaty... cheeks flushed with some sort of exertion... or perhaps passion... All he could do was murmur in shock.

"Let me make it up to you." Crystal asked; in a voice that was more of a command as she pushed him onto his bed.

She had read one too many romance novels, she knew. As she opened her door in the girls' floor. The face; the clean-cut, pristine features of her favorite film-idol stood before her. Though he seemed sweaty, and exhausted, that same virile charm was there, that smile that had won Crystal's heart long ago.

Leonardo Dicaprio, or at least, his identical twin, dressed in a black tuxedo entered Crystal's dorm room with no resistance. But then, the posters, the behind-the-scene books, and the other tandem memorabilia of his career spoke volume about the girl's vulnerability to his presence.

"Wh-who... how?" the girl stammered, ashamed to see her Idol confronting her dressed to kill, while she was here in her jammies, about to brush her teeth to go to bed.

"It's obvious who, isn't it?" Leonardo said, flashing her a winning smile. Nodding apreciatively towards the many, many movie posters plastering his image across the dorm room. "I've seen you in public before; and I was curious. I started asking questions;" his eyes bored into her. "And I knew that I *had* to meet you..." he replied huskily.

"Wuh... b-but..." Impossible! Ridiculous! When had Crystal ever been in public with him? Where was his entourage? The reporters, the press-agents, the security? He just... popped up... here? Now? But what if it was him? What if Leonardo had chosen her? Out of all the girls in Arborville, out of the world! And he had chosen her! As her pussy moistened, she knew that whatever the risk, whatever the truth, she could not, dare not ignore the possibility...

... It was beyond belief; elsewhere in the girl's dorm, Susan Theobold gurgled in pleasure, unable to believe the impossible visitation. She had been doing her geometry when none other than Johnny Depp let himself into her room. She did not dare ask, she did not dare question; only moaned in rapturous glea as the champion of her fantasies laid her down upon her bed, dressed the same as he was during 'Don Juan Demarco', the black mask over his eyes, and soon little else. Both their clothes seemed to melt away, and Susan's mouth was not even able to scream her pleasure as she felt him enter her...

... Todd was licking her; his furtive tongue traced a halting path across the shoulders and clavicle of his all-time fantasy babe; Crystal Henemore that up until now never gave him the time of day. Now, she was sweating, moaning, her auburn-gold hair in his eyes as she ground her body against him, panting, breathing, sweating. She was ripe, flush with passion. Her perfect C-cup boobs pressed their hardened nipples against his chest, as her hot, dripping pussy brushed against, teasing his mighty, 8-inch cock, his best asset. Even though it was happening, even though he felt the sensual heat of her naked body thrusting against him, slithering over him, he could not believe it, his perfect fantasy; Crystal...

... She was teasing him; Scott from room 602 squeeled with incoherent glee. He had been fantasizing about his perfect supermodel, Cindy Crawford, his all-time favorite fantasy babe. And... And it was her? No, that was impossible... yet... it was her! Supermodel Cindy was teasing his cock with her dripping womanly slit, grinding against him, moaning like a bitch in heat. It... it had to be fake; a sham! Yet, whoever this woman was, she was absolutely identical, she even had that little mole; and the legs, and the breasts... ohh... the breasts. Scott gurgled as he fondled her ripe globes...

... Jack was fondling the luscious boobs of his absolute favorite celebrity! Carmen Electra had entered his lonely dorm room! And submitted herself to him! Well, really he was the one submitting to her; she was insatiable! Teasing his cock with the sweaty, moist folds of her womanhood, her thick mane of auburn hair caressing his chest and shoulders, as she held his hands to grasp her perfect breasts. Impossible... it was impossible...

... Jerry thought that it would be impossible; he didn't think Tyra Banks, his perfect fantasy woman would date white guys. But she wasn't dating him; she was..."NAAAAAAH!" Jerry murmured with inarticulate lust as Tyra held his hands to her chest, to knead the soft globes of her bronzed bosom-flesh. It was her; as impossible, unlikely as it was; that long, flowing river of golden hair, the fullness of her lips, those lips that now lavished him with kisses. Jerry wept with thankful glee; running his hands across her rump, the curve in the small of her back...

... And up the slope of Jennifer Aniston's back, as the teasing, sweating, lustful celebrity vixen finally began to thrust herself upon Brian's hardened cock. Straddling his shoulders, she lowered herself inch by delicious inch onto him, the ripe folds of her cunt devouring his eagerly throbbing member. With each grunt, Jennifer ground herself slightly deeper onto him. But Brian couldn't handle it; the fires burning in his tortured cock drove him to take control; to fulfill *all* of his fantasies. He grasped the firm hips of his favorite actress, and with a throaty howl of lust spun her around, surging upwards to encompass the silky softness of her pampered, celebrity skin, slick with sweat. The thing that seemed to be Jennifer Aniston snarled as Brian took her from behind...

... Linda screeched with joyful shock at the disbelieving joy that consumed her; even as she was consumed by the groping hands, the volatile lusts of her secret fantasy man. She would never admit to it, but she had always nurtured a mighty lust for black gangsta-rappers. The urge to be taken, used, bred by a dangerous black stud filled her pussy to overflowing with feminine juices. And now, her throbbing pussy was filled to overflowing with the potent meat of Tupac Shakur; he was dead wasn't he? How could this be? Tupac didn't explain, he called her his bitch, ripped off her bra, and Linda had submitted to her secret, impossible fantasy. He was taking her from behind; Thrusting, humping, the juncture between their sexual centers slick with liquid passion. Tupac periodically slapped her lily-white ass, while fondling her ample boobs, as Linda felt her fires building...

... And Scott felt each thrust become easier, the slick cunt of Cindy Crawford, (or someone identical to her in every visible way) as he rutted away into her from behind. His thighs; locked into position as he ground his meat into her wetness, mounting his celebrity fantasy woman...

... Susan bit into her pillow to stifle her passionate screams, as her fantasy man, Johnny Depp drilled her pussy, stroke after mighty stroke; his deft hands roving with the surety of unbridled desire over her hips, her back, as he mounted her, pushing, thrusting his meat. Susan Theobold's whimpers reached yet a higher pitch as her mind was swallowed in the fleshy embrace of fantasy realized...

... As Tyra Banks, or her identical twin, jerked; tensing in anticipation of sweet release, Jerry's release; tears of confused, uncomprehending, wonderful delight streaming down his laughing face, his cock lodged firmly into her sweet womanhood from behind, as he slathered her shoulders, back, and neck with frantic, fumbling kisses...

... As the lower lips of Carmen Electra's glorious cunt tensed; squeezing Jack's cock, milking him for his sperm; sperm that would soon be spurting, gushing into the unprotected femalia of his fantasy woman...

... The moment was upon him sooner than he expected, yet longer than Todd believed possible; he felt the hot core of pleasure, the building fury of impending, orgiastic ecstasy...

... Todd/Jack/Jerry/Brian/Scott/Crystal/Susan was consumed; the growing firestorm within rutting loins, that impending, explosive sensation... it... it spread. Cocks should have spurted their creamy reward, pussies should have unleashed a torrent of girlcum, yet instead, the fires kept growing, expanding, until each felt that not only sexual centers, but the rest of the body was involved. The Orgasm spread like a wildfire, engulfing, covering, consuming... It was ecstasy beyond ecstasy, pleasure that the human body was not meant to have, joy that the human mind could not hope to process...

From Dorm rooms, male and female sections, and from several off-campus apartments it came; slithering, oozing from the windows. Great globs of pale, pearlescent slime. Living ooze, animated by otherwordly intelligence. It flowed, undulated in the dark walkways of the campus... meeting, merging with other globs, other seething masses of roiling, writhing slime. The globs merged, burbled, wriggled, and kept flowing... flowing towards the boiler room below.

Old Henry had been cleaning, scooping, mopping and wiping for years; he knew the place inside and out, he knew every nook and cranny, and all the machines intimately. And he had never heard a sound like that; like a ton of vanilla pudding pouring down the stairs... what in tarnation could make that kind of sound? Nothing that was supposed to be here, that was for sure. He scratched his scraggly chin as he shuffled over to investigate.

No, none of the machines should have made that sound, and certainly not Petra Verkaik, the naked pornstar from all his secret, internet excursions. Naked, sweaty, dripping. He had followed her career for years, and here she was as tantalizing as ever; those huge, natural tits, that elegant face. She looked so hot, so sweaty; was that sperm dripping down her sleek thighs? She looked like she'd just escaped from a marathon gang-bang, and ready for more. A man his age should not be fooled; this sort of thing just didn't happen, not in real life, it was impossible, and yet there she was; putting her delicate hands down his pants, thrusting her naked, canteloupe boobs against his chest; her eyes, filled with a desperate, furtive longing, a yearning...

Jason's hand trembled in panic; he had uploaded to his desktop PC many, many pictures from the tiny little spy-cameras he had emptied his bank-account to order. Surreptitiously placed, concealed all over campus. This... the infestations was more extensive than he imagined possible!

"How did the pictures turn out?" asked Cynthia, sticking her raven-haired head into his room. She had helped him a lot in the past few days; she'd been so curious, respectful and attentive. He'd met her in his Western Civ. class, but it was only in the past few weeks that she'd really been interested in him. Without hard evidence, she was the only one he bothered to tell about his succubus investigations. He had been so reluctant to tell her, or anyone, but she insisted, always respecting his learning, and his opinions. And instead of snickering, laughing, or slapping him when he told her of his belief in the legendary sex-demons recorded in ancient myth, she only wanted to know more.

She'd been spending almost all her time assisting him, and he couldn't help but suspect that there were prospects for something... deeper than mere friendship. He had a real chance! With a real girl! His heart quickened a bit everytime she revealed herself.

"I... I've never... I have more than I dreamed possible! It's real! It's all real! There are... (he gulped) sexual beings... that are... somehow feeding upon mankind! But I think I need more pictures; It must be absolutely clear that there's no camera tricks, or special effects; I've got to get more!" Jason's eyes widened as he sorted the partial images on his screen. "They seem; primarily gelatinous... I... I guess the succubi have some kind of... well... shapeshifting power! I've been studying the... ooze... it looks familiar; white, viscous, almost like; almost like..."

"Sperm." said Fred's voice; the guy from across the hall leaned against the doorframe. "That's what we are; and we want you to stop spying on us."

"Naah! What the? How could you..."

"We're not a threat to you; we don't want to hurt anyone. We want humans to join us; to join our family."

"What... what are you talking about F-Fred?" But Jason was afraid he already knew.

"Don't ask me;" Fred smiled, "Ask... her..." he beckoned to someone standing outside in the hallway.

Jason's entire body quivered as a naked, sweaty Britney Spears strutted into the room. No! He... he... for years Jason had nurtured a secret, Britney Spears crush! And she was here; a wild mane of blond hair, her fit and trim figure glistening with sweat. High, perfect tits, bouncing high upon her nude chest. It was as though she had just finished her most intense, exhausting concert, and had then allowed her entire entourage of male dancers to pleasure her.

"I... wh... how did..." Jason stammered, hoping, praying his erect cock was not visible through his jeans, praying that Cynthia, standing next to him wouldn't notice his manly meat.

"We are sperm;" The Britney-thing said. "We exist because of sex, we exist for sex. We are... not from this world; but we are glad to be here. *Very* glad..." said the sweaty, horny, duplicate, a hand caressing her thighs, belly, and breasts. Amazing! The succubi were extraterrestrials! That made sense in a way; some sort of alien, sexual organism...

"We are sensitive to sex, to desire; we are deeply aware of what makes intelligent beings have sex... want sex..." she strutted closer, brushing a hand over her erect nipples.

"When a human masturbates; we are aware; we form a link. We can see your fantasies; we can feel your sexual desires; and we see the thoughts and images that drive you to orgasm. All we want is to bring you pleasure; Fred understands; he's one of us now. We want you to join us." Britney said simply; she rubbed her erect, exposed clit, shuddering as waves of obvious rapture passed through her; as if the experience was life's only pleasure. Jason could only step backwards; fear battling with lust on a backdrop of uncertainty. Britney seemed to get annoyed; "Here I am! You have been fantasizing; yearning, masturbating, over Britney Spears for years!" Her lips quivered as the alien-clone-slut stepped towards him, moisture and what was probably sperm flowing in rivulets down the sleek musculature of her naked flesh. "You're hesitating; *WE DON"T LIKE IT WHEN YOU HESITATE!*" The Britney-thing was getting angry, the exposed lower lips of her blossoming cunt began to throb and jerk, as her thighs became slick with girl-cum. Is that what happened to extraterrestrials when agitated? "It took effort to assume this form!" hands gesturing across the naked belly, tits, and thighs that belonged to the real Britney; not some alien sperm-monster. "What will it take to motivate you to lick the sweat off these mammaries, and to thrust your cock into our pussy!?"

Those brown eyes turned towards Cynthia; who was regarding the proceedings like a long-tailed cat in room full of rocking-chairs. "We see now;" alien Britney answered sagely. "You have an emotional attachment to the female; and do not wish to abandon her for another female in her presence. We know what to do." The duplicate quivered all over, as if from nervous tension, her eyes faded to pure white, and more footsteps could be heard in the hall.

Jason didn't know much about him, only that the guy's assumed name was 'Fabio', some kind of European male-model, (the lowest form of human life in Jason's opinion) Like Britney, there was not a stitch of clothing anywhere. He had a hulking frame of beefy muscle and broad shoulders, yet was clean-shaven. Apparently to add stylistic flair, his hair was quite long, past shoulder length. He strode confidently into the dorm room.