Room for Improvement - Male-Fem

You try to look away, but you can't. It won't let you. Your eyes are drawn towards that strange, almost pulsating core, glittering and shining with every colour of the rainbow - and then some. It speaks to you, beckoning your focus inwards, guiding it like a soft mother's touch in towards the shining core that, you know, will hold your will locked within it as surely as if you yourself were trapped in a cell. But you can't look away.

Not even as your shirt is lifted over your head, momentarily obscuring it from your line of sight. You just see that shimmering core right through the fabric.

Not even when you're pushed back on the small couch chair so that your pants can be removed, revealing your already musky centre.

Not even when your panties and bra are removed, revealing you in your fullness to him.

You don't even look away as it slips like a rainbow through the air downwards towards your entrance, pointing your eyes at whatever it wants you to see like a laser-sight in the blackness of night, the crystal-clear tip parting you like warm butter and slipping inside you. You don't look away even when that impossible core glides effortlessly past your hood and you lose it inside you. You just keep seeing it as it pushes its way up your inner sanctum, seeing the gleaming, shining core as it touches you all around it with its brightly coloured tendrils, slipping ever deeper into your body.

When you feel the thick, bulbous base touch your cool, wanting outer lips, you let out a sigh, because you know it's as far inside your pussy as it is in your mind, completely filling it - and you - with the warm, bright colours that it so wants you to see. It makes you feel insanely warm and tingly, as if a child again hiding under the covers. It makes you want it more and more with every moment that passes, and as it begins to retract from you once more, leaving a cold emptiness in its wake, you know that the only thing you want now is for it to come back.

And it does.

Over, and over and over again, it enters you, faster and faster until the gentle insertion becomes a brisk, vigorous vibration that turns the gleaming crystal buried at the dead-centre of the shaft into a blurring beam of light that penetrates and fucks you silly until all you can think of, all you are is the light's toy. You willingly give yourself up to it, happily letting it take your body just as it took your mind, and when you feel yourself tensing up around it and beginning to fill up inside as if there's an explosion slowly pushing its way out of you, all you know is that it's your reward for giving in so willingly to the impossible crystal buried in the dildo.

And then you explode, and keep exploding, and everything turns to light in your mind, and everything turns to tender vibrating sensations in your body, and all you are for the next minute is an expanding mass of shining, glittering colours with no presence left to know how much time has passed or where you are anymore. Only you and the crystal giving you the gift of orgasm remain, and you willingly, readily welcome its reward for your subservience.

When finally you return to earth once more, you're panting, sweaty, and smell of feminine sex. You're slumped down in the chair, naked and hot, the fabric warm against your back, your nipples erect to popping, and an even greater heat emanating from your womanly core. Eventually, when your vision clears and you can focus again, you see him standing naked before you, his erect length tall and firm right in front of you.

You don't think. You don't need to. No decision you've made in your life has been as clear as this moment - in fact, this isn't even a choice. You know what you're going to do before you even do it.

Sitting up and leaning in, you take his ready length your mouth and begin to show him what the crystal showed you, using your mouth to repay him the joy you just received. When you feel him begin to tense inside you and as his warmth begins to flow across your tongue warm and thick and satisfying your need to pleasure him as your thanks, you know you've done a pretty good job.

But after how perfect he made you feel, there's always room for improvement.