by Gabi Moore
“Are you ready to come?” he asked. His cock was in his hand, and he was stroking it slowly, pointedly.
I nodded.
“I want to feel you come,” he said.
He released his hand and introduced the head of his cock to me again, and even though he had fucked me senseless only a moment ago, the sensation was enough to send my whole body into fresh spasms of pleasure again. I was dangerously close to coming. I reached my hands out and put them against his stomach, stopping him from going any further.
“Woah! Careful! I’m really… close,” I said, gasping.
The room spun around me. I felt that a single tiny movement from him would send me hurtling over the edge.
He waited, tip inside me, and breathed heavily while I tried to compose myself again, then slowly removed my hands, ready for more. Locking his eyes with mine, he slowly, slowly pressed another inch of his beautiful cock into my poor, ravaged body. I rushed right up to the precipice again, shivering violently to hold my body back from a luscious orgasm. No. I wanted to have all of him in me, as deep as he would go, before I would allow myself to come…
“More?” he asked, and I nodded.
I was given another inch, and with a violent twitch I yanked myself back from the edge again, laughing at how insanely sensitive I had become to him, to his hard body nudging me closer and closer and closer.
“Oh fuck, I can’t take it …please …”
He smiled, relishing what a quivering mess I had become, knowing how he could collapse this entire moment with just a single hard stroke.
“You want it…?”
“Fuck yes!” I screamed, clutching at the carpet in fists.
In one smooth, confident thrust, he drove the rest of his cock into me, slamming the line of soft brown hairs on his stomach right up against my body. I cried out and threw my head back, letting the peak of a massive wave crush over my body, radiating out from the hot center in my core where he was, driving me into hot, wet spasms that my aching pussy lavished over him. He remained hard inside me, motionless, and when I had fallen into the deep, delicious pool of my first orgasm, I felt him stirring me up again, pulling another one out of me. I couldn’t believe it. I barely noticed that he had both of his fists clenched tightly around my wrists, and was pinning me firmly to the floor, his entire weight over my bucking, twitching body.
“Tom …oh god,” I began and then the second orgasm hit me, this time broader, looser than the first. I couldn’t help but to break out into giggles. I looked up to see a bright expression of pure joy on his face, his eyes seeming to want to penetrate mine just as deeply as his body was. He smiled, and with a thrill, I felt my body collect and swell again for yet another, bone-shattering orgasm.
My body felt so on fire by this point, so loose and free, so utterly his, that this third wave found absolutely no resistance. This time, I could scarcely make a peep as I slammed my eyes shut and let the sensations run through me, yet again. My body had become a vortex of wet, swirling pleasure, and at the center was Tom, beautiful Tom, tender-eyed, hard-bodied Tom, hung like a fucking donkey.
My body still twitching and writhing, I reached out towards him and took him in my mouth again. His dick was soaked from fucking me, but I quickly lapped this off, taking him in as deep as he would go, thrilled at the thought of having him enter me everywhere.
“Your turn,” I said to his crotch, and stroked it playfully against my cheeks.
“Remember, don’t hold back…” I added, planting both of my hands on his butt.
I heard a quiet murmur of assent; he gripped my head and began almost immediately fucking my mouth, savagely, driving himself right to the end of my throat. It easily reached to the back of my mouth and beyond, and I gagged, choking, my lips shaking around the fat base of it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said again, and this time, it was almost a plea; I could hear in his voice how close he was. I pulled him further into my hot throat, wanting all of him, as far as he would go, loving how good it felt to be filled and violated in this way.
I gagged once more, long strings of dribble forming on my lower lip, and one hot tear growing on my lower lashes. I wanted to do this with him always. I squeezed his ass in my hands, urging him to release and shoot his cum into me. The hands pulled hard on bunches of my hair; he thrust once, twice into my mouth and then he burst into spurt after spurt of hot sticky liquid.
I held him in my mouth, wanting to catch every last drop, proud at having eked out so much pleasure from this man, this man who had always seemed so strange to me, yet so familiar. He growled and I felt his entire body shuddering as he emptied himself completely onto my tongue; after a moment his spent cock slid out, bouncing against his hips.
His gripping hands had turned into gentle, searching caresses; as he hugged my head close I showered his softening cock with kisses, nestling him back to his senses. He groaned loudly and flung himself back onto the floor, pulling me down with him. I landed on his chest and clung there, heart still beating in my ears and the echoes of my trio of orgasms still fresh in my mind, and in my body.
I had never been so thoroughly fucked in all my life. I felt like the happiest girl in the world.
As I traced a shaking finger over his chest, I realized that I could never tire of him, of his body, of this. I wanted him to do that to me again and again and again…
Chapter Eleven
And he did.
It was a one in a billion chance that this, any of this would have happened, and to someone like me no doubt …but it did happen.
And once I had gotten my mind around the fact, once I had relaxed into the idea, I was no longer surprised any more, by anything that we did together. I guess even the improbable happens once in a while, right?
Tom spent the most of the next year trying to convince me that I wasn’t in some fantastical dream, and this was my life now, and his, and that it was OK to let go, to be happy.
And I resisted it at first. And we’d argue it out, and we’d fuck, long, passionate evenings in that same fireplace-ed room, hashing out our disagreements. He was one moment the cocky celebrity alpha male I had written about all those months ago, the next moment a playful, sweet boy from my hometown, one who knew every little alleyway of my past, every untouched spot on my body.
He was gentle with me, and I him, and we were unthinkably rough with one another, both desperate to see how close we could get, how many layers we could peel off, what was really underneath all that flesh we pawed at so hungrily. And we went even deeper still.
There was money, of course, loads of it. Life became easy in ways that made me nervous, suspicious even. But there was nothing Tom’s firm gaze, firmer voice and unbelievably hard cock couldn’t convince me of. I let go …and I kept letting go. I let my mind soften with him, and my body yielded, first a little bit, and then more and more, until easing into the warmth of his big body felt like the easiest thing in the world.
“Haha! Look at this one. Oh, you’ll love this,” he said.
He had a new issue of Cache spread out on his lap, and we were both in its pages, highly pixelated and walking quickly out of a restaurant with the headline PREGNANT stamped on my head. He held up the pages to me and I laughed, nearly spilling my drink. It was almost a year since I left Cache, since Penelope had left, and Clara had taken over. Like I said, even the unimaginable can happen sometimes.
“Should I call them up and tell them you’d just eaten an extra large burrito that day? That’ll break their hearts I’m sure,” he said, returning his gaze to the page. I playfully threw a sock at him.
“Shut up. I’m simply devastated, don’t you know. There are rumors your eye is straying, of course. Ah, my poor playboy husband, what is he good for?” I said, pretending to swoon.
“Good for? I buy you burritos, don’t I?” he laughed.
“Can’t argue with you there.”
He put the magazine down.
“I want you again,” he said.
I looked at him. He had that same look on his face, the one I was becoming very familiar with. He was like an adorable golden retriever puppy, only with a six-pack and a dirty mind.
“Again?” I laughed. It would be the third time this morning.
He sauntered over, cradling my head in his hands and kissing me softly.
“Unless you’re feeling too sore…”
I kissed him back, hard, and pulled him closer to me. I guided his hands over my body, letting his fingers rest on the spot where only a few hours ago he had pounded me relentlessly.
One look from me told him what he wanted to know, and he pulled off my shirt, kissing each of my breasts, saying “I love you” as though he only wanted them to hear and not me.
“I love you, too,” I responded and slipped my fingers through his hair.
People really do go around this world closed off from each other, I thought. He was my one in a billion, but I was convinced now that with an open heart, anything was possible.
Anything at all.
Chapter Twelve
I’m standing calmly, and I take a slow, disinterested sip of champagne. My hair is longer now, and has grown down to my lower back, where it grazes the top of my black suspenders. I’m wearing my favorite leather thigh highs, the ones with spike heels and tiny red chains around the ankle, plus a long, long string of real pearls that falls down between my bare breasts and to my belly button.
I’m tipsy, but not overly so.
For a moment, I have stepped back from the fray, standing apart from the mass of bodies in front of me, some dancing, some breaking off into slower moving groups of two or three, some already heavily twisted into each other… patches of light catch on their naked bodies.
He is at the center, and as he makes eye contact with me, a deep, knowing glance erupts on his face. He smiles a small, private smile. I return one of my own. The music is good tonight, very good, and I let my head fall back a little as I enjoy it, enjoying also the summer air on my half-naked body, and the cold, wet crystal glass against my fingertips, of the near-bursting perfection of this moment, seemingly held in suspension all around me. The yacht is far from the shore now, floating in inky blackness, only the lapping of water reminding us that we’re still technically on planet earth. A familiar cry breaks me out of my daydreaming.
The woman in front of me is being fucked to within an inch of her life.
Her entire face is flushed red, the color extending far down onto her chest and to her two swollen nipples. She’s writhing like something possessed, as though she’s about to combust into flames at any second.
“She won’t come until I tell her she can,” says her tormentor to me. He flicks a sweat-damp fringe from his face and pummels into her with more urgency.
“What do you think – should we let her come?” he says through strained breath, flashing deep, laughing brown eyes in my direction.
I smile.
A year ago, I had only seen this man in pixelated images. He had been nothing more than ink on a newspaper for me and now …now he was sweaty and deep in a yelping woman who seemed to be melting before our very eyes.
“Well…?” he asks again.
Kai looks beseechingly into my eyes, her hair damp and disheveled and her lovely face contorting with pleasure.
“No, fuck her a little more” I say, and smile.
I lock my eyes with hers, savoring that sweet moment, and blow her a little kiss. It’s a bit mean, sure, but I’ll make it up to her later.
- THE END -
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Man Milk
A Gay Romance Of Cosmic Proportions
Chapter 1: Daniel
I had been working my cock into a frenzy for the last four days. I know that’s a bit excessive, but I was almost there. If I could only push past the thrill of orgasm long enough to connect with the rest of the cosmos, I knew that I’d be able to achieve what I was looking for.
Nirvana.
Enlightenment.
Satori.
Auto-Masturbatory-Tantric-Bliss.
For sure there was something I was missing. I gave up the no anal rule I had been given so long ago. I figured that you had to be able to ground yourself somehow, and the whole point of working with this type of sex magic was to have a firm grasp on your body. No better way of doing that than burying a finger in your ass.
I had never been with a man before, and each time I was with a woman, there were so many different relationship aspects to keep in mind — not to mention the pregnancy issue. Ultimately, it felt better just to focus on myself, and figure out my own sexuality. On the other hand, I was lonely, and I hoped that I would be able to meet someone soon. I knew all relationships were likely full of conflated drama and problematic interpersonal emotional exchanges. Just seemed like every time I ejaculated that I was wasting a critical resource that could have been gifted to another person.
There was something driving me forward. This was my fourth session in one day. Each time I would get close to orgasm, and then back off again — edging my way toward my goal. There was a part of me that truly felt like I might be able to connect with the divine if only I had the right mindset while approaching orgasm.
I figured it was like suicide.
You know they say that you can’t commit suicide unless you have a completely pure state of mind, otherwise you end up in a hell realm with ten thousand other miserable fags — each one wanting to off themselves for one reason or another. The loophole for this sort of thing appeared to be in the realm of non-attachment. If you were able to die without being attached to anything in the earthly realm, then you were good. The problem was that most people were attached to things — different psychological blocks, or relationship hang-ups, etc. Then, when you offed yourself, you ended up becoming inadvertently connected with the very thing you were trying to escape the whole time.
I think it’s like that for orgasms as well.
The whole time you’re thinking about shooting your load, then you shoot your load, and it’s all over. Maybe if you’re lucky, you break a sweat, or get a bit of a cardio workout. If you’re even luckier, then you don’t have to wash shit off of your fingers, when you’re done. You might even feel motivated enough to eat your own jizz. All of that is to say that masturbating without an objective is kind of anticlimactic in and of itself.
Not to mention porn. Don’t even get me started about porn. You masturbate while fantasizing about some hot bodies on a computer screen, and then when you ejaculate your soul gets flung out at the screen and tied up with all of those other people lusting after that fucking incubus you’ve placed before yourself on your laptop.
We’ve reached the core of the subject: where do you place your soul?
Sex is centered around this single basic question. These are the fundamental principles of sex magic.
I was certain that if I could just figure out exactly how it worked — what sort of things I were supposed to focus on, then I could bring something beautiful into my life. I was looking for something that would change the way I experienced reality forever.
My favorite thing to focus on was the different colors of my chakras. I would start inside of my asshole, and picture light filling up my entire body, one color at a time. I wanted the light to go up my shaft, and all the way up my spine until it was bursting out of my head. Ideally, at that point, I would be connected with the entire universe. I’m pretty sure the rest of my life would be taken care of from that point onward. Once you are able to transmute your body into a divine entity during sex, the rest of life has to be pretty well managed. I figure both attitude and personality adjustments were implicit in a transformation of soul.
I pictured myself as a sexual monk. I wanted to be someone who knew the inner ways of sexual enlightenment, and could then teach people.
“Come to me,” I thought, while stroking myself. “Let me fill you with li
ght, and show you the keys to the kingdom.”
I didn’t even fully grasp how arrogant I must be to believe that I could transfer enlightenment through my cock.
The only problem was that before I could push myself through into the final stages of visualization, I would inadvertently blow my load. What can you do when you shoot holy cum all over yourself but lick it off, and wish that you had someone else to include in your practice?
At this point in our story, it’s important for me to introduce Thomas, the Moli Faerie.
Like all good rave kids, Thomas had long given up a strict masculine conception of self. Thomas’s pronouns had been changed to “Ze / Zir”. Regardless of the fact that I have seen Thomas’s junk bounce up and down at a nude dance hall, I still wanted to be respectful of zir decisions. Regardless of the pronouns in operation, I still preferred the name, “Thomas the Moli Faerie.”
At any rate, Thomas was known to sell the best drugs available to the LBGTQ community. The MDMA Thomas sold was primo. What made the deal even more sweet, was that if you were a new customer, you got to be baptized by Thomas’s “Faerie Juice.”
Just one of the perks of hooking up with a drug maven, I suppose.
I hadn’t made a purchase from Thomas yet, but the standard offer was to get down on your knees and open your mouth. At that point, Thomas would offer you a powdered cock to snort and suck clean. Supposedly it was bitter, but useful if you didn’t have the money up front. The offer was only available to newcomers, and I had been keeping that possibility in my back pocket for some time now. I figured that if I was high on pure ecstasy, I could probably get in touch with my sexuality enough to find God.
