Page 55 of The Fed Sex Man

I gripped my limp dick in my fist and attempted to stroke it. I would have been more successful at stroking a handful of mashed potatoes into an erection.

There are very few things in life that we know for absolute certain. However, I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that I wasn’t going to get hard. If anything, my cock was shrinking in size.

It was running away from her.

No matter what Miss Everly did, or how badly I thought I wanted to fuck her, it wasn’t happening.

I shoved my limp dick into my boxers, pulled up my shorts, and buckled my belt. If I played my cards right, I just might be able to escape with a speck of self-esteem.

I shot Everly an exaggerated glare. “You’re a dirty fucking whore. You don’t deserve this dick.”

The nearly inaudible moans that had crept from her lungs for the last few minutes increased in volume.

Tenfold.

“Oh my God,” she moaned. “Please. Give it to me. I need it. Slap me with it.”

“You’re nothing but a slut.” I shook my head in mock disgust. “A dirty, filthy slut.”

“You’re right,” she murmured. “I’m nothing but a dirty whore. Fuck my dirty pussy and come all over my face.”

I’d have loved to use her. Sadly, short of getting her to scramble me some eggs, I had no other use for her.

I turned toward the dresser and grabbed the box. After tearing it open, I retrieved a curved dildo fashioned from golden chrome. Heavy in my hand, and futuristic in appearance, it was a work of art. A quick search of the box revealed a tiny wireless remote control. I pressed the button on the remote. The cock-shaped device shook violently. I pressed the button again. The vibrating lessened to more of a thump, thump, thump. A third press caused it to jolt back and forth methodically.

I turned it off and handed her the golden schlong.

“Stick that in your twat, whore.”

She wrestled her sweats to her thighs, taking her panties with them in the process. After arching her back and leaning against the end of the bed, she inserted the tip of the battery-powered penis past her beef curtains.

I crossed my arms and cleared my throat. “All of it.”

Her eyes fell closed as she began to fuck herself senseless with it. After a few lengthy strokes, all ten inches of it vanished.

I pressed the remote’s button twice.

The sound of her moaning permeated through the room.

I turned toward the door. “Don’t you dare move,” I commanded. “Stay right fucking there until you’ve had six orgasms.” I faced her. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she muttered.

Refraining from bursting into laughter, I shot her a sharp glare. “I am a Sir. You’ll address me as such.”

A breath of satisfaction shot from her lungs. “Yes, Sir.”

“Six!” I barked. “Nothing less than six. I may give you some cock if you learn to follow my commands, whore.”

Enveloped by the sound of her moans, I gingerly walked down the steps and toward the front door. After setting the remote control on the sideboard, I opened the door and sauntered to my truck.

There was one place I could go to determine if my cock was truly broken.

Admitting there was only one didn’t come easily.