7 Sins: Lust

Cyanlot's Forward

The stories in the 7 Sins collection of stories are not to be taken as morality tales, underscoring the seriousness of these alleged sins--well, not all of them, anyway. Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, greed, sloth, and wrath might all be character flaws, or even "sins", I suppose. But they're not the worst by far. How about selfishness, indifference to the suffering of others, cruelty?

The traditional seven deadly sins are just an organizing device for a set of stories. I wasn't the first author on Literotica to think of this vehicle. If you search "Seven Deadly" and '7 Deadly" on Literotica, you'll find lots of other stories using this device. If I'd known this before writing my own stories, I might have abandoned the project, but I didn't find this out until I'd written six of my own stories. So, giving due credit to the others who thought of this, too, I've chosen to publish my own "7 Sins" series.

Each story is independent of the others. There are no recurrent characters in them and there's no recommended order in which they should be read. They vary in length and in the themes explored.

Comments are always appreciated, even negative ones if they are thoughtful. But there's no need to leave comments of the following sort:

• "This story describes instances of unsafe sex--of people having casual oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse without protection." True, so true. It's a fantasy, numbskull, not a script to be followed.
• "I would behave very differently than the character in this story." Good for you! This story isn't about you.
• "Cyanlot is a sick puppy!" Well, no ... I'm fine, thank you. My stories don't convey some deep, dark yearnings. They're just stories.

One final note. I'm trying to place all of these in the "Gay Male" category even though several contain no gay male activity. Many do and, so, that seems the best category for the collection. I'll tag them as appropriate.

Enjoy the series ... or not.

-Cyanlot

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7 Sins: Lust

["Lust, or lechery (Latin: luxuria (carnal)), is intense longing. It is usually thought of as intense or unbridled sexual desire, which may lead to fornication (including adultery), rape, bestiality and other sinful sexual acts. However, lust could also mean other forms of unbridled desire, such as for money or power. Henry Edward Manning says the impurity of lust transforms one into 'a slave of the devil'." -Wikipedia]

Part I: The Objects of My Lust

I like women... all women. But I especially liked the young coeds in the college classes I was teaching. Each semester, I'd scope out the cutest ones in my classes. The first day of classes, I'd take photos of all of the students to help me learn their names.

Some of the photos served a second purpose, though. The ones of girls that I took a particular fancy to became mastubatory aids. "What?!" I can imagine you saying, "You masturbated to what was in effect a mug shot of a kid standing against a classroom wall." And the answer is: "No. I masturbated to a nicely photoshopped version that put her face on the body of a nude woman, sometimes one who was fucking or sucking off a guy."

Sometimes these masturbation sessions took the form of so-called "cum tributes" to the girls. I'd whack off over their photo on my tablet, spewing my cum all over their image. And, sometimes when I did that, I'd record it with my phone. So, I'd have a video of me cumming on the face of one of the cute girls that I lusted after. I'd often yell out just when I was cumming, "Oh, yeah, Stephanie, eat my cum," or "You know you want it, Megan, you slut!"

Those videos were fun to watch, sometimes just before I went to the classroom to teach. And they were fun to run through my mind in the classroom when one of the targets of my fantasies was asking a question.

I would have loved to fuck one of my students and I think I would have done it if the opportunity arose, in spite of the very serious sanctions that would be imposed if I were caught doing it. But I never really had the "Oh, Professor Browning, I just have to pass this class--I'd do anything if you could just give me a passing grade," moments.

Sometimes I did try hanging out in the student union where I'd would see one of the objects of my lust and, from time to time, I struck up a conversation with one of them. But I could never make the transition to actually starting something physical with them.

My luck was a little better with some of my colleagues. I didn't take pictures of them, of course. But for some of them I could find something online that I could use for a photoshopped jackoff aid. And I found some porn actresses that were close enough look-alikes to some of my colleagues that I could pretend it was them.

The reason my luck was better with colleagues was that I actually managed to score with a couple of them. I didn't have a high percentage but, you know the old saying: "I only score with one out of a dozen, but I hit on a dozen a day!" I was scoring less than one out of a dozen and I maybe hit on a dozen in a few months. Still, I managed to get a couple of my colleagues into bed.

Needless to say, my wife, Connie, wasn't very happy with me. She'd seen me flirt with women and she knew full well that I lusted after some, including some of our mutual friends. She didn't like that at all, but she tolerated it. What she didn't tolerate was my infidelity, which she found out about when I was careless.

Instead of confronting me right away with her accusations, Connie set about gathering more evidence. She's a scientist--a neuropsychologist--that's what scientists do. Unfortunately, the gathering of more evidence led to her cracking the password on my phone one night when I was sound asleep.

Of course, she found everything: every photoshopped picture of the undergraduates I lusted after, every "cum tribute" video of me spewing my spunk on their faces, and ditto for my colleagues. Because I'd put the porn actresses' videos in folders labeled with the names of some of my colleagues and some of our mutual friends.

When Connie confronted me with the evidence, there was no denying it, no explaining it away. I promised to change. I told her I'd delete all of the files. She didn't trust me so she deleted them right then and there. (She didn't know that I had backups of everything!) I said I wouldn't do it any more. And, while she didn't trust me on that, either, I think she was taking a "wait and see" attitude.

She didn't have to wait long. Within a month, I had restored most of the deleted files and was in business again--fantasizing about students in my classes, colleagues, and friends.

I'd changed the password on my phone but, while I didn't come to realize it for some time, Connie got into my phone again. This time, though, she didn't say a word. Actions speak louder than words and her response was silent but deadly.

Because I didn't know that Connie had cracked into my phone, I proceeded merrily to whack off to the various objects of my lust, just trying to be a bit more careful about it.

As weeks went by, though, I began to lose interest in these activities. It wasn't all at once and it wasn't a straight line decline. But sometimes I'd try masturbating to one of the photos or while watching a video of me beating off to one. And, I just wouldn't feel an orgasm building.

It got to the point where I was trying to whack off to these just to show that I could still do it. But increasingly it wasn't working. Finally, the meter went to zero. I went a whole month, I think, without cumming once--not with Connie, not by masturbating to one of my photos or videos. It was frightening to me. Was I becoming asexual? That would be a real 180!

I decided I needed stronger material to masturbate to. Simple photos or videos of beautiful women had always been enough for me--probably because I spiked it up for me by fantasizing about women I knew. Now I went looking for women taking cocks in their cunts, asses, or mouths. The sluttier the better.

And it was working. As I watched those huge, hard cocks plunge in and out of a hot chick's holes, I got hard myself and I could cum like I used to. I liked fantasizing that it was my cock the woman was salivating over, was stroking to hardness, was taking into her pretty mouth, or her cunt, or her ass.

I fixated on the swollen helmet of the penis penetrating her mouth, the pronounced veins rippling past her lips as it pistoned in and out of her mouth. I imagined the pool of semen, roiling in his prostate and finally shooting out to gather up sperm on its fast route down his hard shaft and into her mouth.

Or, I'd focus on a video of a woman stroking her man's hard cock trying her hardest to urge it to spew its seed all over her face. It was so exciting when the cock finally exploded, sending its treasure out in jet after jet, covering her face with thick, gooey cream.

Sometimes I'd visualize the millions of sperm cells swimming madly into her unprotected womb, striving for their target. That excited me, too.

So, I was getting along pretty well, my good masturbates having returned--and not, to quote Jonathan Swift, "my good Master Bates dying." Getting along pretty well, that is, until the shit hit the fan when Connie revealed how she was dealing with my inability to control my lust.

Part II: Refocusing

I'll never forget the night when the trap was sprung.

No, that's not right. The trap had been sprung months ago and I never knew it. I guess I mean: I'll never forget the night I realized that the trap had been sprung and I was its victim.

I was sitting in my home office, just finishing grading a stack of essays. I heard Connie come in and could tell that she had someone with her. I went down to see who she'd brought home with her.

"Derek, this is Stan," she said to me. "He's a new faculty member in psychology and we're going to be doing a project together." Connie turned to Stan and said, "Stan, this is my husband, Derek, he's in the English Department."

Stan was a good looking guy, probably about 35 or so, with a great head of light brown hair. He was thin but looked pretty fit.

We exchanged greetings. Connie suggested doing GrubHub from a local Chinese restaurant, which sounded good to both Stan and me. We settled down with drinks while we waited for the food.

Dinner was fine and I liked Stan. He seemed like a nice guy and he had a great sense of humor.

The evening changed when we were finished with dinner. We went into the living room to have more drinks.

"Derek," Connie began, "I want to tell you about this project Stan and I are going to be working on. It's really exciting."

I can't say I was especially excited. I figured this would devolve into a minilecture with lots of jargon I didn't understand and I'd be reduced to nodding as if I was following it and saying non-specific things like, "That sounds really interesting," without really knowing whether it was interesting or even whether it made sense.

"Well, I told you Stan is in the Psych Department. His work is on subconscious motivation, especially that involved in sexual orientation. His dissertation began to explore the neurochemistry of sexual orientation."

That did sound interesting, actually.

"Well, we've been working together on a project and we think it's beginning to show exciting results."

"Like what?" I said, with genuine interest.

"Well, surprisingly, it looks as if with some synthetic neurotransmitter chemicals and some subconscious conditioning, it's possible to completely redirect a person's sexual orientation."

"Wow!" I said, shocked. "That's crazy! It sounds like that horrible so-called 'conversion therapy' that's used on gay people by religious bigots. Why would you want to change someone's sexual orientation?"

"Oh, geeze, Derek," Connie quickly interjected. "We're not interested in anything like that. In fact... " she sort of snorted as she looked at Stan, "Stan is gay! Neither of us is interested in pathologizing same sex attraction. Far from it."

That was a relief. I didn't think Connie would be involved in anything like conversion therapy. I was surprised to learn that Stan was gay. It's not like I think I have gaydar or anything. But sometimes one has a suspicion. I had none in Stan's case.

"Sometimes, Derek, a person's sexual orientation can cause problems--problems they're not able to solve as long as they have that orientation. And, in those cases, changing their sexual orientation can be good. They can lead a happier life."

I suppose that's right.

"You said you'd already been working on this project and you were getting exciting results. Have you done any animal studies?" I asked.

"We went straight to a human subject study."

"You did?! I thought it took months or years to get that approved by the various University panels that have to okay that."

"Well, we sort of didn't jump through the usual hoops."

"What?!" This was shocking! They could both lose their jobs over this, even Connie, tenure be damned. Doing a human subjects experiment without institutional approval was absolutely forbidden. "And you got someone to volunteer for this even though you didn't do the proper protocol?"

She paused, then: "Mmmm, well, the subject was ideal for the research but he wasn't exactly a volunteer."

Forget about being fired. That could get you jailed, for a long time.

"This is incredibly irresponsible, Connie. I can't believe you did this!"

"I think you will believe it, Derek," she replied, as calm as can be, "when you see the results."

What was she talking about?

"Stan," Connie said, "I think now is the time."

Time for what? What was going on?

Stan stood up. I didn't have any idea what was going to happen and couldn't have even imagined what did happen.

Stan unbuckled his pants, unzipped them, and started to push them down off his hips.

"What are you do...?" I started to say. But just then, his cock popped out. It wasn't really hard but it was tumescent enough that it stood out from his body.

Stan's cock was beautiful. It had a nice, well-pronounced head and thick veining. My attention was fixated on it as images of the porn I'd been whacking off to recently flooded my mind. I had a lump in my throat and I could feel my chest pounding.

As Stan watched my reaction, his cock rose and bulged. He took a few steps toward me and I watched, transfixed, as his now hard cock bobbed with his motion.

He stopped a few feet from me and I felt an irresistible urge to get on my knees in front of Stan. It was... well... irresistible. So, that's exactly what I did. I reached up and touched his hard shaft with one hand. It felt powerful and, at the same time, the skin was soft and smooth.

"You can take it in your mouth, Derek." Stan said, as if he was giving me permission. As he spoke the words, I realized how much I wanted to do that.

"Do you want to do that, Derek?"

Oh, God, yes! I thought but I just said, more tentatively than I felt it, "Yes."

"Go ahead."

And I did. As Stan's cock spread my lips and filled my mouth, I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. As I sucked on his cock, I felt a sense of contentment I'd never experienced before. For a while, I was completely satisfied just to suck on his hard shaft. But, then, I felt a sense of urgency to bring Stan to an orgasm.

The thought of Stan shooting his sweet cream into my mouth sent shivers of excitement through my body. It became more than a goal; it was a vital quest.

As I realized that this is what I needed to do, I began in earnest to work Stan's cock with my mouth. I cupped his warm balls with one hand and wrapped the other around the base of his cock. I was bound and determined to milk this beautiful cock for all the cum it could give me.

I began pumping the base of Stan's cock while I was sucking and massaging his shaft with my lips and tongue. I could feel the effect I was having on Stan. The muscles in his thighs clenched up and he was moving his hips quicker.

My excitement was off the charts. My mind was flooded with the images I'd had recently when masturbating to the porn I'd been watching. I visualized the semen churning in Stan's prostate. When he began to ejaculate, I pictured it shooting out of his prostate and along the vas to pick up its precious load of sperm. I felt the first pulse shooting past my thumb at the base of his cock. At the same time I felt the initial spurt of cum fill my mouth, I saw it in my mind's eye. I saw jet after jet of thick, gooey cum shooting into the back of my mouth.

This was the most exciting sexual experience I could ever remember having, not counting those where I'd cum myself. Maybe, though, even counting those. I can't describe how intensely pleasurable it was. This was, I thought, on a new level, a level I hadn't been on before.

I gulped down every gush of goo Stan's cock delivered. When he was finishing, I pushed my lips all the way down to the base of his cock. I felt my lips press against Stan's pubic bone and his cock enter my throat. His last spurt of cum went directly down my esophagus.

I fell back against my chair, still on my knees. I was struggling to catch my breath. I realized that the excitement I'd felt watching the videos of women taking hard cocks and swallowing loads of cum, had nothing to do with the women and everything to do with the cocks and cum. Well, it had something to do with the women. They were role models for me; they were the person in the videos whose role I was imaginatively occupying.

As I was recovering, I stared at Stan's soft cock, still glistening with my spit. All I could think was: What an instrument of power and pleasure! I was looking forward to a rerun of tonight's activities.

* * *

That all happened more than two years ago. Since that time, I've had my way with scores of hard cocks. I've fondled them, sucked them, and taken them up my ass. I've taken cocks small and large, curved and straight, smooth and veined, and black and white. I've felt them pulsate between my lips as they spewed their cream in my hungry mouth. I've felt them shoot their spunk all over my face. And I've felt them deep in my bowels spewing their potent seed into me.

I'm a connoisseur of cock and I'm very picky. The only cock I'll use my hands and mouth and ass to satisfy is the one that's in the room with me.

Connie and Stan's experiment was more successful than they'd thought possible. I was completely off women. No thoughts about them at all. And, the difference in my life was dramatic. When I'd lusted after every attractive woman I saw, I was constantly frustrated, having to settle for fantasies of them while I pounded my cock with my hand. Now that the object of my lust was cocks, I got as much as I could handle.

I was still getting off by pounding my prick with my hand. But, let me tell you, there's a world of difference between whacking off to a picture of a woman while you try to imagine being with her and being on your knees stroking your dick with a beautiful, hard cock between your lips ready to blast its load into your eager mouth.

What Connie and Stan did to me was outrageous. It was criminal... literally. I never would have agreed to it if they'd proposed it to me. But, now that it's done, I wouldn't think of trying to go back to my old self. Cocks beat cunts, that's my motto now.