A CAPRICIOUS AFTERNOON (1: Male stripper)
"... her dripping pearls of secretion were like reflected starlight blinking through drifting raindrops falling from between her legs, vanishing into the night, flashing before crashing into the darkness of the earth like liquid comets rushing down from an eternally feminine universe."
Whimsical, flighty, unpredictable Yoru was free that sunny afternoon, and she decided to log-on for love. She was surprised at how much she got.
Before Yoru had even rezzed, George, a male stripper who gives women what they want, had IMed her. He had been begging for weeks, this woman-service man. He seemed to Yoru much like the contented, blue-feathered bird she kept in a cage in her room, not at all like the quickly darting butterflies in her garden. They are free, but such a manboy seeks a woman's chains, seeks to become the forced object of sensual pleasure of a voluptuous captor. It is as though he wishes the opposite of his Real Life, for in the lair of the Mistress, he is at last able to let his legs fall apart "like a girl."
There is something very attractive about such naïveté... or is it clever surrender?
The men were all nude where he transported her, but she noticed the females present were without exception clothed. Before inviting her there, George had explained that he couldn't strip for her because the men had to obey rules, and strict nudity was number one. Yoru dislikes landing in n00bie joints where plastic erections prance in front of wooden avs, but these all had multi-toned, sculpted cocks hanging, dangling deliciously low between the muscular thighs of hot male avs designed for and devoted to serving the demanding women around them. George had been begging her a long time, and at last he had the Mistress he most desired in the house where he worked. For Yoru he would do anything, free of charge, and so he did.
She took his balls in her hands and stopped him cold. "Climb on the pole and spread your legs," Yoru said, pushing him over to the dancing animation in front of her chair. She held on to his balls a little too long, stretching the scrotum and forcing the nuts inside to adjust in a bind, startling him. "Dance for me or I smack your butt hard next time." His body fairly sucked up onto the pole in adoration as he shimmied and slid and spiraled with his legs wide, shamelessly exhilarated. His package, exposed in its multi-veined, rippling, realistic skin, protruded awkwardly, ganglia gone goofy :) Still, he had a lot of nice pixels down there.
She had control of the HUD and made sure he earned his reward of pussy. Voluptuous Yoru had been a bisexual switch since birth as far as she could determine, and knew just what to do. She was good to him, it is that easy to explain, good... and in control. She allowed him to drink her honey, "forcing" him to lick the slit of flesh most wanted, desired, most feverishly sought after in all the beds on earth. Forcing such sweet hairy moistening pussy upon an ardent manboy lover of such delicate sensibilities is an act of the goddess. And that is what we all are, darling sisters, divine when we give, devilish when we take.
Yoru was beginning to notice nice things happening, like when George skillfully role-played his delight when she nestled lusciously on his face. He made it sound as good as it actually felt. "Your flower," he whispered, "is soft as wet silk, and my tongue is burning with pleasure lapping your purple swollen clitorus... press your pussy harder, faster on my face, I am cumming as you squirt, please please, in my mouth." This was more than a exotic dance, and once she appreciated how hot he was, she decided to climb up on him and let him take her.
She reached down once more and gripped his balls, then pinched the stalk of his cock down where it entered his torso between his scrotum and his anus, deep-stroking his very taproot with her right hand, then squeezed his balls into a tight sack with two bulges and held them there firmly. Yoru's left hand held his hair tightly, propping herself above him and jerking his head occasionally to get a firmer grip on his hair. She saw him wince, it must have hurt his scalp a little, and she cooed in his ear she would let him free once she had him inside her. Her hand circled him so tightly his cock swelled to a state of unbendable, and Yoru pushed her pelvis down easily to the spot of best leverage, betraying her experience, and released her knees outward, sliding him silently, serenely, sweetly into her, deep into the sopping silky flesh of a woman in perpetual heat's swollen pussy. She continued squeezing his balls gently so as not to interrupt the feelings of bound pleasure he was experiencing, massaging the roots of his sexuality, exerting the exact amount of pressure to keep him in ecstasy without plunging him into pain. The edge was where he wanted to be, and Yoru got him there.
He begged and begged and then he got.
What is it, Yoru wondered while they cuddled, that drives such a delicious being, whether male or female, to want to be sexually enslaved, unless it is because s/he is already a slave of sex? It is a silly concept. Real slavery is of course to be abhorred, but there exists an undeniable urge to be taken and used sexually among adults that is, when consensual, natural and necessary for a balanced mind and spirit. It is the result of the evolution of everything. The term "sex addict" is meaningless and absurd except in the most extreme cases, for without the urge to survive, to procreate, we would not be here at all.
Every one of us is thus the product of millions of years of fucking each other and ourselves. As a being, we are evolution's tool of desire. Could anything less than sublime, utter heart-and-genital desire drive a climax so many millions of years? Imagine the intensity of the orgasms in all those hot moments of pleasure, countless tiny spurts of cum in unending space, in deathless succession, connecting to glassy, essential eggs throughout a progression from elements adrift in the cosmos to single cells, immobile vegetables, to eventually animate amoeba with their clever use of flowing water to make themselves lords of all unmoving protein, all the way to a sexy, exotic man named George on his knees.
We little beings of evolution searched and drank and ate and sometimes clutched each other in love, and we sought ever sweeter apparitions as we swam and crawled, encountering and engaging new naked bodies. We learned to discern the delicious from the merely palatable, and pursued avidly. Surprises were to be had, for as time became endless the amoeba grew prettier, ever more inventive, attaching sweet organs producing powerful scents to guide lovers to them in the night, in the darkness of vein-like tubes where semen now swims in eager gangs of marauders, thrusting their entire single-celled-selves into the chaotic invasion of life.
It was still early afternoon. Yoru felt exhilarated after riding such a magic, malleable male, but not exhausted :)
AFTERWORD:
(Writer's note: Howard, our creative writing teacher at the Commune Utopia, gave me the following feedback when asked if the last three paragraphs made sense:)
[19:54] howard (howard.plutonian): It's a poetic musing on sex and its history. It rambles a bit... the only connection is that its all about sex. That being said, it's poetically done, and has very cool imagery of erotcism and science blended together, so you are definitely on to something...
It's a kind of erotic science dream, ... the last two paragraphs by themselves totally work. What you have is a paragraph that starts going in one direction, then two paragraphs that explode like a drug-induced erotic science dream. I think those last two paragraphs are interesting... some of the sentences in the last two make really compelling statements, so keep it up!
[20:08] Yoru Lamourfou: *hugs* you are still my teacher
[20:12] howard (howard.plutonian): ~~hugs~~ :)
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