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My pendulous balls hang heavily between my thighs and my throbbing member leaks a steady, excited flow. How can I be more turned on now than I was a minute ago? With shaking hands, I bring the plug closer. It’s this. This damn thing is what has me so on edge. The memory of it inside Story. The smear of her along its side. The sweet message about love. The goddamned butterfly.
This plug is Story.
My woman.
I need it. I need her. Need her to be a part of me forever. It’s a visceral, painful craving. And like the weak man I am, I already know I’m going to give into my desires before the thought’s even formulated.
I consider standing for this, but then I recall how much the squat position gaped her ass. Squatting it is.
Reaching down, I gather some cream from my cock. It’s not enough—not for my first time. I close my eyes, replaying every second I’ve spent with my girl tonight. It doesn’t take long for my imagination to get the better of me.
I picture her delicious body spread out. Imagine my tongue rolling over every dip and curve. My lips pressing adoring kisses to her breasts. Taking her long nipples between my teeth. I groan as another spurt releases into my waiting palm. I keep going, my thoughts becoming more and more depraved as the seconds tick by. I don’t stop until my palm is completely full and leaking onto the floor.
My eyes fly open. Holy shit. How did that happen?
“Fuck,” I mutter. “That’s crazy!”
I have big ass hands. How could I have possibly filled one with pre-cum alone? I can’t waste it, though. My cum is full of nutrients and population potential. It’s full of everything my baby needs.
My gaze slides around the bathroom as an idea comes to mind. I spot what I’m looking for on the counter and grin. Perfect. I gently set the plug on the clean puppy pad and snatch the small, empty glass jar. It takes some work to get the lid off with one hand, but when I do, I carefully pour my spunk into it.
“Don’t spill, don’t spill,” I chant, cursing my shaking hands.
When I’m done, the jar is nearly full. I deposit it on the counter and quickly screw the lid back on, protecting my seed for later. Then I turn back to the plug. My hand is still soaked, so I use some to coat the plug, making sure it’s dripping wet at the end for a quick insertion. Reaching behind my big body, I use the rest to slather my bussy. It’s an awkward reach, but everytime my arm begins to ache, I remind myself how strong and brave Story is. She did this and so much more. She made it through. So can I.
I work a finger into my darkest hole, moaning at the tight stretch. Then another. I can only get the first inch or so in, but it’s enough to prepare me.
Gulping, I pick up the plug and bring it to my backdoor, pressing it in slowly. I whimper in pain. Okay, maybe it wasn’t enough, but it’ll have to be. Story is probably ready for bed, and I need to give her medicine before she falls asleep.
My eyes flick back to the jar and it's the push I need to shove the plug up my ass.
“Barbra Streisand!” I cry, my neck falling back as I breathe through the sharp burst of pain. It only takes a few seconds for the pain to bleed into overwhelming pleasuring. My head snaps down as I gape at my cock. It’s harder than it’s ever been before, the sticky tip leaking and purple. “Holy shit. Aren’t you tired yet, man?”
With a deep exhale, I slowly push to my feet. Every shift and step sends zaps of pleasure through my body. I’m seconds from busting again. I need to hurry—to get to my woman.
I need Story.
I rush through cleaning my hands and the bathroom. When I’m done, I do a quick check in the mirror, grimacing at what I see. My gray velours are soaked through. There are brown streaks down one thigh and crispy patches all over the place. My matching jacket didn’t fare much better.
Sighing, I strip naked and rinse my face off in the sink. With a deep breath, I snatch the jar of semen from the counter and flick the light off.
Time to get my bed bug.
I trudge slowly down the hall, my brown eye clenching around the plug with every step. The butterfly is squashed between my thick cheeks, but the bite of pain only turns me on more. By the time I’m standing at our closed bedroom door, my feet are covered in baby batter.
“You can do this,” I mutter, lifting my shaking hand. “She’s going to see you naked for the rest of your life. She likes you, Fred.” I swallow hard. “Maybe even loves you. Just walk inside, take care of her, and go to bed.”
Go to bed next to Story.
Easier said than done.
I’m a virgin—in all ways.
Today was the first time I ever kissed a woman. Hell, beyond family and friends, today was the first time I ever touched a woman.
But she’s not just a woman,my brain chides. She’s your woman. Go get her.
Nodding, I grip the handle. That's right.
