Date: Thu, 20 Oct 2016 11:16:37 +0000
From: Jaze McAskill <lickingup@outlook.com>
Subject: Can I Real?
Disclaimer: Work of fiction. Inspired by someone. Changed his name.
"Yo, wassup?" The answer to my inquisitive text, of course,
is "Nothing." Or some derivation thereof. Trying to be. . . It's so
difficult to be a social being. Jumping through a hoop of fear, he took the
understood "Nothing" and upgraded it with meaning.
He texted, "I'm on my way to your place." We're at the
point in our relationship we don't know if hanging out will irritate.
Asking him to watch tv with me would definitely insult but asking him to go
to the beach with me might go either way.. Last time we got together we
walked a few miles around town looking for something. We found it. Finally
arriving at my place I was able to express my generosity. Another
text. "You're giving me $10 again, right?"
My last conversational text, "It's a distinct possibility."
I needed to talk to him about that.
The call box rang. I buzzed him in. I could hear the
elevators in their shafts. I welcomed him in. "Welcome. Can we talk about
something that brings me some embarrassment?"
"Course, nigga, wassup?"
"The $10. Would you spend a few hours with me anyway?"
Fearful my insecurity could offend I put forward a slight beg. "I can't
give what your worth. I see my limitation."
"You're giving me the $10. You could give me something
more."
I handed him the bill. "No. You could give something
more. I'm a married man. I can look but I can't touch." He wanted a blow
job I couldn't give him. He put his arm down his pants, rubbing himself
down and up, pulling his arm back out. "Maybe we could find a compromise."
"I like that."
"If you could take your pants off while I look around for
that ten I promised you."
"Of course." He undid his belt and let his shorts fall to
the floor. His boxers stayed up.
"I love hanging with you. We talk deep and walk far." I had
already queued up a bisexual MMF porn scene for the tv. I turned around so
he was facing the screen and I faced him. "I wanna see." I turned off the
volume and pushed play. He again rubbed his arm on his dick subconsciously.
"What's this about?"
"My balls are humungous. I wanna see."
"No. Your ball is perfect."
"According to sight my balls are huge." I took off my
shirt. I pulled my shorts under my butt and off. "I have to be nude to make
room for them."
"You got no hair." He consciously rubbed his dick. "I'm
afraid I'm going to have to inspect the quality of your shave. I'm morally
obligated to check you for nicks or cuts." I took my feet off of the foot
rest and spread my crotch wide for him.
"I can look. I can't touch. Yeah. I'm proud I figured out
how to shave my balls. Look how big they are!"
"I can see both of them. I thought I'd. . ."
"Let's make this inspection real. If I had a magnifying
glass I'd hand it to you. Feel the perfect smooth with your hands. Get you
face up close and in there. Search every inch of my genitals. Love me with
your attention." The word 'attention' seemed to click something in his
mind.
Wishing I could be reluctant but failing anyway he pushed
my face into his boxers.
"You smell great, but I wanted to see," I breathed onto his
semi-erect solid. He let go of my head and I backed up a bit.
"I don't pull my drawers down for seeing."
"That could be a potentially serious problem." I made
piercing eye contact with him. "You masturbate without those shields
up. Ten bucks." He already had the money and he knew it.
"Your balls are fucking huge!" He dropped his boxers. I was
surprised. I had expected him to be uncut, but there he was, perfectly
chiseled and shaved. "I need a closer view." He reached for my crotch. He
gently grasped my goods. He moved his hand around, inspecting my work. "A
much closer view." He knelt down facing me at the foot of my chair. He
began to take the inspection thing to the next level. He searched every
inch of me, moving my dick and balls around. He dove his face in my crotch
ad took a deep breath. He rubbed every inch of his face with my crotch. He
began saying something, talking to himself as he used my crotch like a
cloth. He took a deep breath and separated himself from me with
difficulty. "I know how. You're going to cheat."
I feigned brushing my hand along the shaft of his dick. He
moaned as if I had actually touched him. He took my wrists and put my hands
where his face had just vacated. "Do those balls fit in your hands, yo?
Hold your dick and cup your balls in your hands." I did as I was told. He
stood facing me. I was drooling for his dick. I tried to pull him close
enough to taste. He wouldn't let me touch him. "I told you to hold your
dick and balls. Don't take your hands off yourself. We need to get you some
intensive dick therapy." I was holding myself again, a sort of wonder
filling my eyes. Although the video on the TV had long since ended, he shut
the TV off anyway. "No distractions," he said. "Promise me you won't move
your hand no matter what until I give you permission."
"I promise."
"I only masturbate alone." His dick was clearly throbbing
with anticipation. He started stroking himself. "I feel like I'm a sperm
inside your balls. Unh." He was moaning softly. "Oh my God I'm so solid!
You. . . you own. . . Unnnhh!" He put his dick close to my face but not
touching it. His hands dropped to his sides. He arched his back. Precum
dribbled and then practically streamed out. Standing up straight again he
took himself back in his hand. "I didn't know this would happen. I'm
dreaming of your balls. I've only ever been this hard a few times. This is
way too good to keep to myself. And you need your training. Oh, your hands
are still where I told you to put them. Oh my God. That's it." He backed up
a few feet to give me a better view. "Keep your hands to your crotch and
your eyes to my self manipulation. When I was rubbing my face all over your
dick and balls the answer came to me. Oh, here we go. Oh yeah." I felt
diminished. I couldn't masturbate like him. I wanted to so bad. "Oh my God!
Unnh! Unnh!" From five feet away I got shot in the face with a bullet load
of cum. A second load hit my dick. He got a third and a forth load on my
face. Five fucking feet! Two more loads landed on the floor. He pulled the
rest of his cum out of his dick and it dribbled onto the floor.
"Nobody. . . nobody ever got me going like that. Do you
know? Do you even know?"
"No what?" I aksed.
"I. . . you. . . " He thought to himself for a moment. The
epiphany he was looking for came to him. He opened the door to my bedroom
and went in. I didn't follow him in. He said, "C'mon."
I said, "I never got permission from you to let go."
"Oh," he said. "You can let go of yourself. Now, get in
here." I piloted my wheelchair into my bedroom. He was lying down on my
full sized bed. "Get up here next to me." I climbed onto the bed. He rolled
on to his side. "Can you get on your side?" I could and did. He moved my
hands to his crotch and put his hands on mine. Gobs of his cum were all
over both out groins. He pulled my body over to him. I felt so turned
on. Our hands were rubbing his cum like lotion all over our dicks and
balls. We kissed. My open mouth inches from his. Both of us daring the
other to let our tongues dance. "I aimed for you."
"Huh?"
"I aimed for you. I knew all about you before we met. I
aimed for you because you're higher. Tell me."
I was quiet for a while, And then, "He called me a faggot,"
I told.
"What did you do about it?"
"I made myself like it. A lot."
I pulled him around, his back to my front, so I could hold
him as tight to me as I needed. He tried to get up once but had no chance
in hell of moving very much. My embrace was as solid as his dick had been
earlier. I eventually let the hug go. We got up and got dressed. He
muttered a prayer to himself, "God give me the strength to do this." Then
he spoke to me. "You know who I am."
I said, "Yes, Mikey. You're on the record."
"You're not a faggot. I'm the fucking fag! Do you have any
idea how badly I wanna swallow a load of your cum?"
"Make me," I answered.
"I will, I will. We've got some work to do, but we can do
it. Are you ready to cum down my throat? Are you ready to do everything I
tell you to?"
"I am."
"First. I know it gives some sexual release, but you have
to stop playing with your nipples."
"Ok."
"Second," he told me. "I'll be sending one of my boys over
to your place at least once a day. You get naked when they show up. I'll
instruct them to masturbate for you. You watch my boys closely. Burn the
view you see into your memory. And make sure both your hands are cupping
your balls and dick. Keep your hands on your dick and balls until they
cum. Understand?"
"Yeah, completely."
He'd send his boy over. We'd say hello to each other. He'd
usually ask me why his dick was so hard. Without fail, everyone he sent me
stroked the hardest dick thay'd had in years. He'd ask me where to
stand. I'd tell him to stand in front of the TV. He'd start pulling his
pud. I'd tell him he needed to strip. I'd cup my hands around my dick and
balls. He'd let me watch him masturbate. We'd get dressed, pound our fists
and he'd leave.
For the first fortnight of the spell, one of six different
men would masturbate for my eyes, as I cupped my balls and dick in my
hands. I'd get one or two shows a day. Then word got out about
rigidity. Their dicks were so incredibly solid in front of me, everyone
wanted to appear for me.
For two years they came in flocks. Sometimes Mikey would
show up. He'd suck on my neck while I watched some guy have the stroke
session of his life. After the guy came and I could take my eyes off him
and my hands off me, Mikey and I would make out for hours. After two years
of faithfully following his instructions, I could feel my dick again. Me,
Mikey and the city lived happily ever after.