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Lyric
Itwist the rope in my hands as I walk up the few steps and onto my porch. It was such a whirlwind of a day. A lot of scouring books, trying to find answers where there are none. A lot of Story talking me off the ledge, trying to make me calm down.
But how can I calm down when my fictional boyfriend is disappearing?
We found a solution, though. I need to fuck him. That’s what true love’s jizz truly means—and isn’t that romantic?
True love’s jizz means fuckin’. It means milking that big prickle until that delicious baby batter coats my womb.
Just the thought of him sheathing his big pork sword inside my tight little snatch makes my clitty tingle.
With my engines fully revved, I unlock the door and shove it open. I trip over myself as I stare at Ian on the couch, naked and sprawled out with his pussy pocket on his dick.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
A sheen of sweat coats his sun-kissed skin, and his curls, red and fiery, are wild around his chiseled face. His gaze is glued to the laptop screen before him, and a part of me wants to stay hidden and watch him jack it a little while longer.
But a bigger part of me wants to jump his bones and let him take me straight to pound town.
“Hey, baby cakes,” I coo, shutting the door and tucking the rope into my purse. He glances my way, his eyes glazed.
“I’ve been filling the jar,” he breathes, his voice raw. “There’s so much in it.”
“Aw, that’s such a good little boy.” I ruffle his hair as I walk past him, peeking at the screen. It stops me in my tracks.
An old woman—and I mean old woman—is bent over a walker, a man behind her and another in front of her. There’s a room full of guys waiting their turns, all watching her get Eiffel towered by these two young men, her Life Alert necklace swinging in front of her deflated titties.
At one point, she pops her mouth off the man’s one-eyed monster and turns toward the camera, her gums on full display as she smiles, saliva spilling down her chin.
“What are you watching?” I breathe, slumping onto the couch beside him, unable to take my eyes off the video.
“I dinna ken,” he pants. He looks traumatized. Which I don’t blame him. I would, too. There’s no telling how long he’s been watching shit like this or how he even ended up here.
“Let’s just shut this off, hm?” He nods absently, his hand still dragging the fake pussy up and down his pecker. “You can stop, Ian.” As soon as I say the words, he blinks, and the spell is gone.
I hate how see-through he still is. It’s making me fucking anxious. But he’s still here enough to have filled that mason jar with his semen.
“Walk with me, talk with me,” I say, jerking my head toward the kitchen. On the way, I grab the jar, and my mouth immediately starts watering as I stare down at the viscous white liquid sloshing around.
Pulling the drawer open, I grab a large boba straw and stick it inside. There’s a thin layer of dried cum on top, almost like a crust has formed, so I stir it around, mixing it all together. Turning toward Ian, I prop my hip on the counter, bring the straw to my lips, and suck down his cream like it’s the best-tasting milkshake I’ve ever had.
A dried chunk hits the back of my throat, and I cough, feeling it float around my mouth. It settles between my back teeth, and I gnaw on it until it’s soft enough to swallow. Ian says nothing. He just watches me slurp his population paste down my gullet with a pride in his eyes I’ve never seen in anyone’s before.
“I’ve figured out how to stop you from disappearing,” I say, and he perks up at that, straightening to his full height.
“Did ye? How?” He steps closer, his hands rubbing together in front of him.
I slurp some more baby gravy before setting the jar down. “Do you want to stay here forever? I don’t think you’ll ever be able to go back to your world.”
There’s not a moment of hesitation as he says, “Yes. I want to be by ye side until my dying breath. Ye own me, body and soul. In this life and every life after, I am yours to command. I am yours to love.”
My heart hammers in my chest at his words, and my throat tightens so much, I swear it’s about to close. Tears burn my eyes as I reach for him, letting him gather me in a tight, comforting hug.
“I’m in love with ye, lass. Have been since the second I laid eyes on ye.”
“I love you too, Ian.” I nuzzle against his furry chest, his hair tickling my nose until I have to sneeze. He gives me no time to recover before his mouth presses against mine in a bruising kiss.
Our tongues battle for dominance, the taste of his salty release still coating my tongue. He groans at his musky flavor and wraps his lips around my tongue, sucking the last of his juices off it.
