Fantaisie Inquiétante

Two women leaned over him, their breasts hanging heavily just above his mouth, skin diamond-beaded and trickling with more water. He opened his mouth and a milky pale globe, tipped with a long, pink nipple filled it, more water running onto his tongue as he sucked hard. The other woman's breasts were larger and an even café au lait, dark brown nipples stony and small, standing out in the centre of half-dollar sized aureoles, and they dipped over his face, stroking his forehead with moisture, the sensation almost as good as the taste and feel of the breast in his mouth. He sucked the water from both breasts, bereft when they lifted away from him and moved out of his view.

"Open your mouth."

He looked up, and a man knelt beside him, tall and muscular, lean and smooth, his skin gleaming in the shifting coloured light. Just above his mouth, he saw the man's cock, rigidly erect, veined and the bullet-shaped head a deep purple, pearls of liquid slipping from the tip.

The man slid his hand down his chest and flicked very lightly at the head of his cock, the sensation twisting through him and forcing a moan, looking up as the head slid between his parted lips, seeing the man's eyes flutter closed when he began to suck.

What the fuck was he doing?

He wanted the cock, wanted to suck it down his throat and feel the man's come pump out, taste it, swallow it, have it spurt over him, thick and salty on his skin. His cock was throbbing again, deep and heavy, tearing him apart inside. He wanted the cock in his mouth to be in his ass, pushing in all the way, pulling out with painful slowness and ramming back in. God, he needed to come, he was dying from that need, every inch of skin afire, everything that touched him setting off another detonation in his cock, every detonation a deeper jab, of ecstasy, of agony, he couldn't tell any more.

"You want me to fuck you?" The deep - masculine - whisper was honey-sweet, a lover's voice, filled with desire and it set off another surging throb.

He opened his eyes, looking up to see the man look down at him, and he nodded awkwardly, letting the suction stop as the man pulled out, wriggling backward down the bed.

"You sure?"

Vivid blue eyes met his, their pupils huge and black. The man looking at him had long, thick lashes, he realised belatedly, and for some reason it made his hips jerk up again.

"He's sure," the woman's husky voice was behind him and he rolled his eyes up, unable to see her.

"He's wanted it for a long time."

There was a tugging sensation and the bullet came out, fingers slipping in, stroking him softly, then twisting around, pushing hard. He moaned, the noise ending in a half-sob as the fingers came out, stifled when he felt the bullet-shaped pressing against him.

He was so far past arousal, in some place that was all need and want, a place with teeth and claws, tearing into him with each shuddering inhale, with the feel of the thick meat stretching him out as it pushed deeper, millimetre by millimetre, the slowness of the entry tormenting him. It was a hunger, he thought, trying to lift himself to force the man in deeper, the muscles over his abdomen tightening hard, no leverage, no purchase but the need driving him on. The thought was more feeling than intellect, but it was no hunger he'd ever felt before ... a craving, to be filled, to be used, to be released from the growing crescendo of arousal that seemed to have no limit, that kept building, sharper and sharper, reaching not just through the masses of nerves in cock and balls and ass, but searing through his armpits, flashing in his knees, lingering in the too-sensitive flesh along his sides.

Hands, and lips, and tongues. Hot breath and satiny moisture. His nerve endings crackling and jittering. Thunder rumbling inside of him, sheet lightning hitting him everywhere and his cock was burning with the rapacious touches over him, his balls full of his seed, too full, hurting as the man entering him pressed them against his shaft, fingers closing hard around the base.

"Don't you stroke out on me."

He heard the man say it, and the words had zero meaning, just another sound in the distance, along with the sighs and moans surrounding him, coming from him. Eyes only half-open, he saw a woman climb over him, knees to either side of his shoulders, the round, perfect spheres of her ass above him, then a tangled and wet-looking triangle of copper-coloured hair, shaved partially to expose brilliantly pink lips.

"Now."

The cock rammed hard into him, all the way and a mouth enclosed him, sucking hard, swallowing him down inch by inch. The constriction was removed and he felt a temblor, somewhere deep, sputtering through his nerves, pulsing through the blood vessels that were filling to bursting point. Stronger and more profound as the shockwaves converged on his cock. Muscle rimmed his head, cartilage and saliva rippled along his length and he couldn't stop the sound that was coming out of him, a reverberating groan that had started in his groin, had grown thin and reedy as it whistled up his throat. The piston in his ass scraped over his prostate on every inward stroke. His cock had disappeared between cushiony-soft plump lips, over an undulating tongue, was being squeezed and rolled as it went deeper down a wet, vibrating throat, and above him, a dripping and swollen cunt winking in the same rhythm, clenching and unclenching.

Please. God. PLEASE!

He'd never prayed in his life, and he wasn't certain what he was asking for now. For it to end? For the release he'd been waiting for what felt like a lifetime? For it never to end? He'd lose his mind if it kept going. He'd lose himself.

Every muscle, in his abdomen and back, up the backs of his thighs and buttocks and along his arms tightened, contracting with a sudden steely tension. His sight darkened abruptly as the pulse leapt through his body, rutting savagely against the mouth that held him, his come jetting out, not stopping, not flowing but spraying out, filling the mouth of the woman, shooting over her face as she pulled back, shooting again as he felt warm liquid hit him inside, heard the deep grunt of the man, felt his hard, short thrusts.

Then he was floating, somewhere else, far away from the world, his body's helpless jerks and twitches and flailing distantly felt but drowned in a wash of light, permeating him, blinding him, stripping him down to the core.

Nothing remained of the man he'd been, the one who'd fallen asleep in his bed with the fresh, cool fall air filling his lungs. He was someone else, someone he'd never known, never seen, never even suspected. His life, the old life, was laid out clearly in front of him, with all its mistakes and fears, all the wounds and scars and hidden wells of pain. He looked at it clinically, feeling a touch of affection for the boy he could see, a faint breath of sympathy for the young man. Then it was gone, and there was nothing in its place, an infinite field of possibilities with no milestones or markers to show him the way. He could be anything. Do anything. He didn't know if he'd know who he was when he came back.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Consciousness returned incrementally, in his senses ... the warmth of the bodies lying on him ... the smell of a woman's juices, less than an inch from his nose and mouth ... the feel of the softening cock inside of him and a harsh, ragged breathing close by, possibly even his.

One by one those disappeared, weight lifting from him, scent disappearing, his body limp and boneless, pressing heavily into the damp silk sheet beneath him as if, in this one small space, gravity had increased a hundredfold. In the corner of his eye he watched the thin curtains billow and twist, and he felt the warm air caress his skin, drying the sweat that covered him, leaving crystals of salt glittering minutely in the dim light.

He closed his eyes and blackness swallowed him whole.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The alarm shrilled, its shocking demands dragging him up and his hand reached out automatically, slapping at the button on the top of the small black clock. Silence, blessed and empty, filled his ears.

His eyes snapped open a second later, as the familiar scents of the mountain air were breathed and out.

His bedroom. His bed. His hand swept across the dry sheets, warm on his side with his body heat, cooler further away, and he sat up, groaning at the aches in his muscles as he did so, pushing aside the thick, down quilt that covered him.

Brushing a hand over his chest, he licked the edge. Nothing. No crystalline salt deposit from the sweat that had poured off him. No musky pheromone-heavy scent of the male and females who'd been all over him.

He ached. That was still there, he thought dazedly. His ass felt hollowed out, his cock was limp, something that never happened in the mornings, when he woke. Even the stray thought of the man's kiss, fluttering in his mind, failed to raise so much as a twitch.

What the hell -?

A loud and peremptory rat-a-tat on the bedroom door made him start guiltily.

"Are you going to drive me in today?" his wife's voice called from the hall. "I can't be late."

He found his voice somewhere, husky and raw. "Yeah - uh, yeah, I'm up."

What the fucking hell -?

Getting to his feet, he leaned on the bed as his legs wobbled for a long moment, straightening slowly and carefully when they didn't collapse beneath him. He could feel every damned muscle in his body, all of them sore and berating his nervous system.

There was no time for breakfast but the painfully hot steam shower had receded most of the ache to the middle distance and he followed his wife out to the car, going to the driver's side door without thought.

"God, you look like hell," she said, her usual honesty grating on his nerves as their respective doors shut with muted clunks and she looked over him. "Do you want me to drive?"

"No." He brushed off the offer automatically, twisting the key and listening to the engine as it rumbled to life.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

Last night? It'd been a lot longer than last night, yet she hadn't noticed anything. It couldn't've been a dream. He was tired. Sore. Something big had been inside of him.

She fiddled with the heater, and he glanced at her in irritation. Didn't matter how many times he'd told her that he had the damned adjusted to the right temperature, she'd fiddle with it, changing the settings, moving the vents. It drove him nuts and he suspected that was at least a part of the reason she couldn't resist.

The scent hit him then, a spicy scent, filling his mind's eye with an image of desert sand, blown into long dunes. His head snapped around, nostrils flaring as he took it in.

His wife flipped the vent in a different direction and the smell vanished.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That smell!"

"What smell?" She looked at him, eyes wide. "I can't smell anything!"

"Never mind," he ground out, twisting around in the seat to reverse out of the driveway. It wasn't possible. None of it was possible.

Turning to look out of the window beside her, his wife allowed the smallest smile to curve her lips.