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Lyric
Pots and pans clanging together. Soft Scottish murmuring. Searing meat perfuming the air.
I smile to myself. I could get used to this life.
Cool air pricks at my skin, and I sigh as I push off the bed. Grabbing my robe, I slide it over my arms as I make my way to the bathroom.
Everything has changed so much in the last couple days. I never thought this could be my life, but here we are. And honestly? I couldn’t be happier.
I know I don’t know Ian all that well—okay, I don’t know him at all. But that doesn’t matter, does it? I can get to know him. He might not even be around much longer…
A pang shoots through my heart at the thought of him gone. I’ll miss him, of course. But this longing, this ache, feels like something more than that.
He’s in the other room, but I feel panicky because I can’t see him. Because he’s not with me. What will happen to me when he disappears?
No, not when. If. Because it might not happen.
It can’t happen.
Story said I needed his baby batter to make him stay forever, and I’ve had it—I’ve had a lot of it. He can’t go anywhere.
Something crashes, then Ian shouts, and all my thoughts fly out of my head. I rush through the house toward the kitchen.
“Ian!” I shout, watching as flames engulf the stove. “What happened?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s too busy running around, arms flailing and eyes wide, to focus on speaking. I can’t blame him. Fire is terrifying.
I snatch the fire extinguisher from the cabinet under the sink, aim it at the stove, and spray. White powder erupts from the nozzle and coats every surface.
I feel Ian freeze behind me. His breathing is labored but distant.
“It’s alright,” I sigh, turning around.
My stomach plummets as I stare at the faded man before me.
Faded.
He’s see-through. Like a ghost.
Oh, fuck.
“What’s wrong with you?” I cry, dropping the metal canister to the ground. Reaching out, my fingers brush along his skin. It’s cool and rough, but different. He’s not whole. He’s not… “You can’t disappear. No. Please. You can’t?—”
How do I fix this? What do I do?
“Jizz,” I breathe. “I need more jizz.”
I let my robe fall to the floor, loving the way his ghostly eyes heat. Resting my hand on the center of his chest, I gently guide him backward toward the counter.
He grips the edges as I drop to my knees before him. “Naked,” I demand, reaching for the waistband of his new sweatpants. “Mommy needs to milk you.”
He wastes no time shucking the clothes, letting them pool on the ground in a heap. His manhood is already hard and throbbing as I wrap my hand around it.
My lips meet his velvety cockhead, and I suckle on it, groaning at the hot, salty precum immediately coating my tongue. He’s as desperate for this as I am.
I open my mouth as wide as I can, taking him deep. A harsh gag comes from me, and thick mucus coats my throat as I pull back before slamming my mouth forward again. I need him deeper. I need him in me.
My eyes flick up to him, finding him gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles are white. I can’t stand the look on his face. It’s making my kitty purr.
