Work Out Run Around

"Are we going out tonight," Louise mumbles as I bite her lip. She knows the answer, but she needs to hear it so she can slot it down into the part where I have control in some manner.

"Do you want to?" I ask. I don't. Neither of us do, but that's the point. Slave to the whims of the world, with the perfect explanation as to why we are doing this. There is the world ending outside and this is all we can do with the will of the universe. It just happens to come into being through me and her.

She shakes her head and finally touches me in the way I so desperately want. I am running down the length of my inseam, pushing past my poor boxers and threatening to tear through the both of us. Her hands come to my chest and that's all the encouraging I need.

We have our quiet and the rip of my pants echoes off the ceiling. I feel her stomach clench in beautiful anticipation.

"I need to ask," Louise murmurs, "What happens if we wait like a week?"

"No clue," I say, "longest I've ever gone is three days. And it sucked."

"Like three days no sex? Or three days nothing at all? And do wet dreams count? That's kind of a big problem with you."

"Wouldn't call them a problem since they're awesome to have. And three days nothing. Didn't even touch myself. Worst time of my life. Never let me do it again."

"Well, I kind of want to. If you're this vicious after a few hours, then what would you be like after a few days?"

"You already know. I get punchy and angry and go off to prowl for others."

"Right, business trip. I need to do another one of those then."

"No. You're not doing that."

A simple command and that is enough to widen her eyes and slip that same hungry nerve-wracking spark through her entire body. It's a pulled pin and the time starts clicking down. In this instance, the springs and gears tap my shoulder and make me let her up. She's still here though, in the other room, that's all. She gives a peck on the cheek and gets one on the tip of her nose.

My length rears in anger. I am through the seam, gains the cold room of the outside. I have that little tremor and a small drop of preseed spills from my tip. Louise glances back and hates herself for pulling away.

"I'll be right back," she says, "I like these leggings."

"So, something more comfortable," I say, idling stroking and playing.

"More or less. And no playing with yourself. I get to play you."

I wave her off and turn my attentions back to myself. It's a chore to free me. Tight and choking and digging into sensitive skin and vein and flesh. I huff and start to move. It doesn't help all that much. There is too much of me and not enough of my jeans. I flex and hear something else give, filling me with some primal satisfaction. It's fun to break things. It's fun to take a bottle and hurl it as hard as I can against a brick wall. It's fun to have a body that the material world just can't handle. I flex again with no care to what happens afterwards. The stray threads grow looser and that finally affords me something close to freedom. My zipper and the buttons protest and groan, but they are open and I am gloriously free.

My length slaps my stomach and makes more glorious noise from my presence. The heat reverberates through me as I watch my heartbeat suffuse my entire being. The preseed flows and drips and leaves clinging strands against my muscles. A bit more effort and I have discarded everything extraneous. I am tempted to go to the bag and rifle through its contents, but Louise is here to do the work for me.

Speak of the devil, she lets out a low whistle as she comes back. Something warm coils in my stomach as I realize she is wearing one of my shirts, faded logo and all. It looks good on her, letting her lingering movement flow and carry on without a wayward though. She is smiling and looking at me and I am looking at her. She's also undone her hair, letting her dreads drape in their loose curtain. They've gotten long. I don't know if she wants them short, but I wouldn't mind it. I still miss the wild mass of rough curls draping over the sides of her head. But not my hair, not my choice. But I will make my opinion known loud and clear if she ever asks for it.

There is a moment between us of just gazing and looking and drinking in the other form. She tugs at the hem, pulling the fabric tight. I like the swell of her hips and her narrow waist as it flows into her strong thighs. I clench and flex and make my head dance. She likes the way it moves and the deep angry red it carries. The moment passes and she scurries over to our prize.

It's a toy. A sex toy. A sex toy designed for men. I just happen to be able to use it and use it well. Louise also comes out with a little vibrator that fits in the palm of her hand. Her reasoning makes sense to her. She said that she wanted orgasms that don't threaten her sanity sometimes. They are both a soft pink because that is apparently the color of sex., with mine being translucent. Louise waves my little gift and it flops with all the grace of a dead fish made of jelly. She giggles and waves it again. I giggle. It thwaps and flops in the worst way. That almost makes me forget the heat in my stomach.

"I almost don't want to use it now," she says, spinning it round and round, "It's like one of those sticky hands from the dentist. Try it."

She tosses it over and I can't get a good grip on it. It lands on the floor with a defeated whap. That gets me into full on chuckling at the poor thing. It's doing its best, but it's just not any good at anything other than pleasure. Louise is choking back high giggles at the funny sounds. Children, we are nothing but children pretending to understand something as nonsensical as life. I pick up the poor thing. Its squishy and dry and floppy. I am hard and slippery and steel ready.

Louise comes to sit beside me and it responds to the weight without a conscious thought. More beads roll down my shaft and it twitches in anticipation.

"I don't think it's going to fit," she says, "I know it's the big one, but still."

"It feels stretchy. It'll be fine. Are you excited for your little ride?" I hum. I move my arm around her and snatch the little cup of silicone nubs. She nods. I press a button on it and it buzzes as I drag it back over her shoulders.

"Ok, I know the joke is that they're shoulder massagers, but that actually feels really good. Gimme."

I do. It makes its fun buzz again, all those little fingers vibrating against hard muscles. She traces her lines and her breath deepens. I think she wants to fall asleep now. Her eyes are closed and all that's left is a simple pleasure of some soothing touch. It must be cold, though, from the way her skin dimples and hair stand on end. A cold icy finger to excite and ignite some terrible response. Or it could be from my hand, touching her waist, playing at the edge of her hem. It could be the thoughts she's having, her body and mind glimpse through half lidded eyes. It could be the AC just kicking on. I don't know. But I have the fun little buzz and the small noises she makes.

Without a word, she takes it from her and lays it across my shoulders. I roll into it. And it is nice. Not really getting anywhere deep but knocking some of the gummed up works loose. Nothing to write home about, but definitely something shared. It strikes me as unequal, all things considered. So, I stop playing to her touch and start to massage her back, working strength into her form. She pushes back, moving her body to where she needs it. I move mine in response. I am still hard and twitching and growing ever more impatient with the foreplay. There is a body to conquer and that isn't happening. There is a useless toy to ty for a slight diversion. It won't be enough. Neither of us know it for sure, but I can hazard a guess. We'll deal with it later.

Louise shimmies a nit and finally decides that we have done enough touching. I agree, in a sense. This touching can stop. There are other touchings to do. Case in point, I move and snatch the little doohickey and let it buzz in the palm of my hand. I look to her and she sees something devious in my eyes. Good. There are devious thoughts in my head and the way I move is outright nefarious. She moves a bit more and spreads her legs a bit more.

It feels odd to be so far removed from the throes of her body. I am still giving them to her as I glance the toy between her thighs, but it's muted. Every action comes through a bit too weak, dimmed through distance and space. It is nice though. The noises she makes are softer, calmer, coming from a simple joy rather than endless ecstasy. But I am still giving it to her and she moves on instinct. There is sensation that calls and she gives the response. I watch her arousal darken the edges of her underwear. Simple cotton and elastic, boring almost, but comfortable. She is comfortable in my arms, under my hands, melting into pure soft Zen. Something tenses and it's gone for a moment. I search for the spot, but I can't seem to find it again. That's fine. There's another spot on her body that does the same.

I go under her shirt and find her chest. Her nipples are hard. She's excited. I'm excited. It's all so excited to finally have the world collapse and fade away. There is nothing else to deal with other than our sensations. We worked through all the meaningless distractions of humanity and we are back to our shared experiences in mind numbing simplicity.

I can't find any more tensing spots that bring something pure and bestial from her. Just maddening simplicity where it all feels nice. There is a silver lining. She fumbles around for the flipping sleeve and I finally have my own response to the action. She needs her sense to find the right end and start stretching. It goes far, so far. I am proud for how far it has to go. She is scared, realizing that everything I do to her is so evident. With Saoirse, there was a whole body to occupy. With this stupid thing, it's all so clear.

"Woah," she sighs. Unfortunately, I don't think it's from the little buzz in the palm of my hand. Fortunately, it is still from me and body. It is me, the way I shift the move the world around me. She watches everything slowly stretch and move and break over me. She gets my head in and brings more of my preseed from my core.

"Don't even need the lube we got do we," she sighs. We don't. But we should. Later. Not now. If we used it now, that would involve her getting up to get it and I am more than ready to keep going.

The plastic goes clear and I am fully visible from miles away. Her hand doesn't fit. The sleeve barely fits, but I keep going. My hand joins hers and pulls it down. I hit the back before it reaches my base.

"I can't believe I can take this," she murmurs. I catch a slight waver in her voice. I found another good spot it seems. Her brow furrows and that cinches it tight. Fun. I'll have to remember that.

"But you do," I say, "Even took it this morning like it was nothing."

"Please. That is the exact opposite of nothing. This, this is the disaster. What am I supposed to do with this? I can lie back and take it. There's no fighting this. The poor sleeve is going to break."

"Probably. But that's a good way to spend $20."

"We're going to have to get you one of those horse mounts or something."

"I think I'm not at the level of industrial farm equipment."

"Have you had this inside of you? No? Then be quiet. I think I know what you need. Get NASA and DARPA on it. Full on Area 51 tech. Black ops, grown in a lab type thing."

"It'll be like coming home, right?"

"You joke, but I wonder sometimes. You were in the military. Maybe they went super soldier on you. Injections and chemicals and secret gamma rays."

"I don't know about that. I just took my vitamins and got 8 hours of sleep growing up. That did it."

She smiles and she hates that she's smiling. The little toy with its pleasant rhythms is nice and that is what she wanted. Her idea, and the hollow ache in her core must be frustrated. There is so much to the world than plastic and batteries and false simulation.

I do like my own little slice of faked heaven. There are nibs and lines on the inside that dig on to soft sensitive spots. It lacks Louise's weight behind it, even when other hands are doing most of the work. I move a bit with her, mostly to get myself deeper and stretch the poor thing more. That's what I like to see. It's such a weak thing starting to break under my power. She can feel it. I know it. But we keep going because there is no stopping. My preseed spills down my length and forms a deep pool in my lap. Warm, it is so warm as it moves and covers me. Louise watches the edges grow, threatening to overtake my thighs. Another soft pulse runs through me and I think I find a good spot to keep her toy.

I work a bit to keep it there. Tense and release, her legs are working to fire some sort of activity back in response. All done without control. All done with little regard as to the next act. It comes from instinct and need and nothing from the future.

Her hands leave my worship and that was a bad move. It goes to my other one, holding the little joy buzzer in place as she rides out something calming and soothing and barely ankle high. The sparks shoot through her spin and it is calming, the tense and release she gives. I feel the vibrations travel up my arm from her as she sails through the glass smooth lake of whit out pleasure. Unfocused for a moment, but her eyes eventually find mine and I grin. I'm glad she enjoyed herself. I'm glad she is enjoying herself. I glad she will enjoy the next second we have together as the look she gives sends me teetering closer to something like my end. Still muted, still so far away through thick wool gloves that don't transfer anything really pleasurable.

Hers ends with little fanfare other than the completed task and a long sigh. She's thinking. She should be stroking, but with everything calming down, I take the opportunity to rove my hand and attend to myself. I grip and force more of the preseed to spill from me. I move my hands and that is something like what I should be getting. It is close enough. The nerves are on fire and the sparks and tensing everything to the point of snapping, my mind is going blank and I am thinking of everything dark and carnal.

I move faster. I move hard. Louise just watches me stretch and rip and work the poor sleeve. I work through the sleeve, working the poor thing into it's at the threshold. A rip slowly creeps up the side and more of my discharge spills down. It slips under my hand as I work harder. I keep it stretched. Nothing artful or sophisticated. Up and down, up and down, working it and letting everything go tense. I move my legs a bit tighter together. It feels nice to have something to press against, even if it is just myself. It should be everything I've ever entertained, but I am still something.

Louise takes my hand away and I fight it for a moment. Then her lips hit my fingers and I don't. The thick strands of my prelude smear across her lips as she plays with them. Her tongue darts out and laps between them, I keep moving myself. I am close enough that I can do it with one hand, despite how little ground it actually covers. The sleeve is there to pick up the slack. The sleeve is good enough for what I need. More rips and it won't be enough for long.

I keep moving and that finally sends me over. My head bulges the back end of the poor sleeve paper thin. Ever ridge, ever vein, every single inch of me is breaking the poor silicone. I am right on the edge and Louise is there nudging me to finally let go and slip down the cliff. She does it with those pleasing eyes, so wide and innocent, simply gazing at the storm clouds gathered and waiting for the first strike of lightning.

It comes with a loud pop as I burst through the far end of the sleeve. Didn't even last an hour of dealing with me, but I still think it was a good use of our now shared money. And it feels good, that snap of released tension. I am free and that is enough to get the waves of muscle tension rolling through em. I take in one last deep breath, heavy with the scent of our solitary shared sex and close my eyes and grit my teeth.

There is something to be said for gentle pleasure brough from someone else, but not through them. A good change of pace if nothing else. And it is nice to fully gaze upon my destruction. I think I like that little flavoring of my being. It suits me well as I pulse and arc and paint my stomach. I hit my chin and feel the shots brush past my hair. I don't look behind me. That simply doesn't exist. I am covering and pulsing and erupting right now in front of me. The disaster, the beautiful disaster has finally seen fin tot grace the world with its destruction. I have my eternity of burning white thought. My body is dedicated to the endless release of the ocean housed within.

I end and I am covered, soaked, stained with the eternity of my release. The sleeve is shattered and burst. I roll my wrist and toss the remnants away. Tatters, it's all in tatters. I take a deep breath and sigh. That was nice. I could go again. And again. And a couple more times after that. We'd need more toys. Or Louise. Or Saoirse. Or Troy. Or whoever the fuck I want. The moment of stillness is nice though, even with Louise giggling at my side.

"You're a mess," she snickers. That last little word is tinged with awe, just a but at the ends as it fades back into chuckling.

"Is that better or worse than disaster?" I ask. I don't care. I am still hard. Her underwear seems to have slipped and I spot her eager slit. That would work nicely for another go. I stretch and feel my muscles burn.

"Better. Maybe. I don't know. Depends, I guess. I like it though. I like it a lot."

She leans over and pecks at my cheek, finding the spots and streak of my seed to clean. Heavy and thick and strong, it pools and flows and drips over me. It's warm, so warm. I don't mind. I can bask in my being a bit longer before the reality sets in and the urge to be not covered in my cum rears its head. That's for later though.

I feel her tongue dance over my body as she takes care of the worst of it. I just let her, stroking her back, playing with her hair, pulling her chin up every so often to steal a kiss and a taste and a dip deeper into the numbing fog of our shared moments together.

The urge hits me as Louise comes to my collarbone and plants delicate touches and swirls to the skin. I nudge her away and slowly come to standing. My shirt is ruined, but it was in the way mostly. My release flows down my body and she watches the rivers it forms with wide eyed awe. I yank her up a bit too hard and almost send us teetering. WE don't fall. We just clumsily stumble to the shower, trying to figure out how to grope and touch and move all at the same time. It comes close a handful of times, but we never reach the ground. That's for when the storm has well and truly passed.