The curry in the pot bubbled. I stirred it slowly with a wooden spoon. Shanti leaned against the counter, nibbling on pieces of freshly chopped carrots - freshly chopped by me, that is, while he just stood there doing nothing. He was in boy mode, wearing jeans that rode so low on his hips the neon yellow T of his thong blinded me every time I looked at it. But I couldn't stop looking, and he didn't help things very much by sticking his bottom out.
"Stop eating the carrots." I plucked the piece in his hand away. "I won't have any left when its time to put them in."
"Oh pooh, Neuro, you're no fun." He pouted, "Fine! Keep your stupid carrots, and just so you know you won't be getting any action for the next three weeks!"
"I rather have the carrots." I said grimly, and was hit on the head with a vegetable stump.
"Why don't you shove them up your ass then, if you like them so much!" Shanti glowered. He sniffed disdainfully and tossed his long ponytail over one shoulder, changing the subject. "I can't stay for dinner, you know. I have some where to be."
"I don't recall inviting you over in the first place." I said doggedly. Shanti ignored me, picked up another carrot and said, "I'm go-going at the Omat tonight."
My spoon stopped stirring. "Oh." I tried to sound nonchalant. "I see. Well, you aren't really dressed for it, are you."
"That's why I can't stay, silly. I have to go change and put on my make up, and you know how long that takes me!"
"Of course." I strained the boiled potatoes, and added them to the curry sauce. I felt his eyes watching me, but I couldn't think of anything more to say. Shanti picked his tricks at the Omat, I knew that because I had been one of them. He had not gone back in a long time, not since the first night I brought him to my apartment.
"I could use the money." He said. I dropped the last few remaining carrot cubes into boiling water. "There's not much of a market in an eunuch's curses this season, it seems. And I'm tired of forcing myself on those wretched little families and their foul smelling babes."
"Babies are smelly." I confirmed. Especially in Calcutta, where the custom of bathing children in cow urine has not yet gone out of fashion. I tested the carrots to see if they were soft enough, they weren't.
"Why don't you stop me from going?" He said finally. "I'll let you, you know."
"I know." I said. Our eyes met and locked. His were provocative. Mine, expressionless. Or so I thought. I looked down at the simmering curry again, unable to match his glare. "It's getting late. You better go."
"Coward!" Shanti spat, storming out and slamming the door. He was right. But I dwelled on the thought for only a moment - the carrots were done.
I ate alone, which didn't bother me much, because I've always eaten alone. Night fell like a heavy blanket over Calcutta, trapping heat and the overwhelming aroma of cooking spices. The lights from low-rise apartments, mud walled lean-tos, converted storage sheds and the occasional run down house burned and flickered comfortingly. I looked towards the direction of the Omat, hidden in a thicket of awkward skyscrapers just on the edge of the city. Omat was just outside of Calcutta, in the un-preserved sector called Valigha.
Valigha was where all the hopefuls escaped to when they wanted to shed their birth obligations and become a part of the modern world. It was not an easy step, the technological and social difference between a Preservation native and the new regime was simply too vast and strange. Valigha remained populated mostly by outsiders; preservationists, tourists, and businessmen. It was a different world compared to Calcutta, where the caste system had been preserved and restored along with the rest of the culture, unblemished by decades of free thought and free choice, put on forceful rewound by the Cultural Preservation Movement. Most of the natives stayed away from Valigha, tamed by tradition and content with what little the War had left them. Only the ambitious, the adventurous and the young ever made it to the un-preserved sector.
Valigha by day was constantly being over run with eager tourists freshly released from their respective hotels and black suited corporate wet-backs permanently plugged into the switch-circuit even as they scurried between the chrome fortresses. At night it puts on a different face for the long time residents and the occasional brave traveler. Places like and unlike the Omat raised its smoky neon face and drew a clientele from both inside and out of the sector.
I don't remember how I got there, I supposed the cab sat me down. The bouncer looked at me funny. He let me pass never the less. I suppose I was under dressed, in an old t-shirt and torn jeans, both bearing some splattered curry sauce. But I wasn't there to impress. The inside was gaudy. The walls were black velvet, cigarette burns, drink stains, and the constant contact with its patron's backs wore it down to a balding shag. There was a main stage and two side ones, a few tables between them, and a bar guarding the rear. All these features I had to draw from memory, because they were currently covered in gyrating bodies.
Shanti wasn't one of them. He was up on the stage with the other trannie dancers, goading on the clumsy and drunken stomping of the audience with his own frantic hip shaking. He was girl again. His eyebrows arched dangerously, his bindi glittering like a teardrop ruby between them. His lips were red as cherries and just as glossy, pouting sexily or being licked by his naughty tongue. Shanti was thin, but far from bony. His hips filled out generously beneath his skinny waist, and his legs were long and supple. He was wearing a black rubber collar and matching thong, with stiletto heeled boots that laced up to his knees. His smooth dark skin gleamed as if it had been oiled, and sparkled with loose glitter that fell from his hair. He was covered in gold ornaments, even his nipples were painted in gold.
Shanti went down on his knees, leaning back and spreading his thighs wide open. He was untucked, just a slight bulge in front that the rubber molded onto, emphasizing every curve and dip. I remembered staring at it when I first met him, in the bathroom of the Omat. I was kneeling on the tiles puking my guts out, then lifting my head and looking straight at his gelded thing. He had been standing at the urinal next to me, taking a piss.
"Hey," He had said, "Are you ok?"
I had managed a weak smile, and then he took me home. My home, of course.
Shanti knelt and bent over on the stage. A dominatrix - a washed out Synthetic Pleasure Doll with upgrades, gave him a playful swat on the buttocks. Shanti wiggled and the dom smacked him again, pausing to run his hands down between Shanti's legs. Another transvestite - wearing a white wig to look like a Synth, but not a Synth - thrust into Shanti's mouth with his vibrating strap-on. The crowd cheered and made catcalls as the Pleasure Doll pulled Shanti's thong aside, stretching the elastic rubber to reveal his asshole. A tall boy the color of raw petrol wearing nothing but what looked like silver threads across his body ran up and shot whip cream between Shanti's crack, then turned him over and shot on his belly.
I elbowed over to the bar. Omat was favored by Synthetics. The exotic and decadent scenery sparked a correspondent and usually repressed pheromone agent. It reminded me of the sleazy strip bars on old Earth, which never failed to make me hard.
The bartender slid the drink to me on a napkin and winked. The show was over, at least for the hour. New dancers bounced on the stage scantily clad and immodestly hung. Shanti was polishing off a glass some one had handed him. It came from a suit, a Synthetic Functional with an easy smile and money pressed into the sharply creased folds of his linen jacket. He was being awfully familiar with Shanti, draping an arm casually across his sweat slicked back.
"I'm not cheap." Shanti had told me on the first night. I blushed naively. I had never been with a whore before that night and I told him as much as I handed him my credit line.
"I don't want your life savings either, dummy." He had said, softening as he threw the card back at me. "You're sweet, though. What's your name? You know I don't have any balls, right?"
"Neuro." I said, feeling woozy still from the multiple drinks I had drunken and then threw up. "I've got balls. And a cunt, too." I blushed again, unable to conjecture why I just said what I said.
He had rolled his large and expressive brown eyes. "Synthetics! Go figure!"
The suit put both his arms around Shanti and they stumbled towards the back, where the TV changing rooms were. I finished my drink and stared at the empty cup, a slice of lime floated sadly at the bottom. I wondered if he was going to tell the suit that he was not cheap, and if the suit was going to hand over his credit line, which would probably be a hell of a longer than mine even though he's been alive hell of a lot less.
"What's with the sad puppy eyes, cute-thing?"
I jerked my head up, Veya was suddenly pressed tightly against me, urged on by the shifting crowd. He giggled drunkenly, wasting no time in giving my crotch and ass a thorough examination. "Never seen you here before, trying out new sport?" He purred suggestively. I tried to push him off of me in disgust, but there was no room to push him into. For once he wasn't as clean-cut and immaculate as he usually was. His spiky silver hair drooped a little with humidity, and his blue-black eyes were unfocused. Veya's lips were full and hot, they tasted like the bitter of his drink as he tried to kiss me. I dodged, unsuccessfully. With a shock I suddenly realized that he was wearing very little clothes, which was unlike him. He was always buttoned all the way up to the neck at work. Now he wore tiny little leather shorts that rode up enough in the back to expose the ample curves of his firm buttocks. The leather was warm as he guided my hand to his bum, so was his skin.
"Neuro!" He muttered as he ground our pelvis together. My eyes darted to the back, where the Pleasure Doll dominatrix was emerging. What room were Shanti and the suit in? Were they fucking or was the Synth just getting his cock sucked? Is he going to break into my apartment, ever again? What did I care?
"Neuro!" Veya whined, his boyish face frowned a little at my distraction. "What the fuck are you looking at? I want you to look at me!" He punctuated his point by grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. Suddenly I was angry, but not at Veya, I'm always mad at Veya, but now my fury is directed at Shanti. Who does Shanti think he is, anyway? I never asked him to take me home, I never asked him to stay the night, I never asked for him to come back the next day and the day after. I told him I didn't have enough money to see him everyday or even once in a while, but he had stayed on, persistently, until I began to grow used to his presence. And now he was abandoning me all of a sudden. When he could have abandoned me to began with.
"It's not fair!" I said out loud. Veya blinked at me stupidly. I stuck my hand up a leg of his shorts and he almost fell over in amazement, drunk or no.
"Suck me?" He asked hopefully. At least I always know what he wanted. Veya was simple compared to Shanti. "Why don't you suck me?" I said. He wheeled again, shocked. I never told him what to do. "Um, ok." He said lamely after a few seconds, and began to unzip me.
"Not here! You idiot!" I hissed, "We're in public!" Veya giggled again, and half dragged, half pushed me through the crowd to the bathroom. He wasted no time in getting my pants down once we were inside a stall. I tasted guilt, and bit it back irately. Why should I be guilty? Shanti's never declared his loyalty to me in so many words. Or in any words, in fact. And why should I be loyal to a whore who was at this moment servicing some one else? Veya beguiled me from my thoughts with his zealous tongue. I had been soft, but with his uncertain but eager administrations I grew hard inside his mouth. He reached down and pulled out his own penis, stroking himself as he licked my engorged cock. It was funny seeing him kneeling there, he was usually the one who had me on my knees.
"Suck it!" I told him, "Suck! You spoiled little brat!"
Some one in the bathroom chuckled. Bodies wandered outside, running taps and dryers and bladders, separated from us by the flimsy plastic doors. Similar things went on in other stalls at the Omat, it was news to no one except wide eyed virgins. Veya mewled a little in protest at first, but he was either too horny or too drunk to resist me. I clamped my hand down on his head, messing up his perfect hair and gloating at the process. He sucked, working his tongue and lips clumsily but never the less succeeding in arousing me. He was my boss, after all. And there was always a sort of smugness one felt when some one superior got down on all fours and ate cock. Veya wasn't used to giving head, he always had others to do it for him. I let him fondle my nuts, his other hand pumped his own shaft frantically.
"Suck harder!" I yelled, "Harder!" He increased his pace, chaffing his lips as my penis slid in and out of his mouth. "Aah! Harder!" Veya made a muffled sound of joy with my meat still choking him. He came on those familiar tiles. The semen made a small puddle beneath my feet as he went limp. Now he had both hands free, so he could play with my ball sacks and squeeze my bottom at the same time. He didn't need further encouragement to start sucking again, slurping loudly as I moaned and writhed. It didn't take long for me to cum, I think the situation called for it. Someone was already pounding on our door, impatient to get their turn. I climaxed in one quick, sharp burst and shot into Veya's mouth. He struggled to swallow, but most of it still spilled sloppily down his chin. I wanted to savor that moment; my abominable, manipulating, arrogant, perverted boss on his knees in disarray, but it didn't last.
Our door burst open. It was a Pull, not Push. Me and Veya both looked up in surprise, but I don't think anybody was more surprised than Shanti.
"Shanti." I said, automatically. Veya looked from him to me, he didn't look drunk anymore.
"What..." The eunuch took a deep breath. "What the fuck are you doing!"
I thought the answer was obvious enough. Either of us had pulled our pants up, our members were hanging out in plain sight, and Veya was covered in cum.
"Nothing." I said, defensively. For a long time no one spoke, we were all busy being in shock. Then Veya asked me, "Who's he?"
Shanti shot him a look that said, 'Back off, bitch!' He had changed out of his costume and was wearing what he had been wearing at my apartment. Glitter still clung stubbornly to his hair, which had been washed and loosely gathered into one long braid. He looked good, I thought, and tired, and very, very, upset.
"Neuro..." I didn't like the way he said my name, as if he was chewing it up and grinding it between his teeth. "Let's... go."
That's it? I thought incredulously, that's all he's going to say? No screaming, no yelling, no broken plates and broken heads? Maybe he was planning to thrash me in private, or maybe even murder me, who knows. But there was no way he was just going to let this slip.
"Neuro doesn't have to go anywhere with you!" Veya said snobbishly, as usual. Even in his undignified position on the floor he was as stuck-up as his power allianced foster parents raised him to be.
Shanti's glare was directed at me, Veya steamed about being left out of the fight. "Then stay! Go fuck yourself! I don't care!" He spun on his heels and left as quickly as he had crashed in on us. There was a crowd standing by the door, and he had some difficulties getting past them, making his dramatic exit ineffective.
"Wait!" I scrambled to zip myself up and pinched some sensitive skin in the process. Biting down on the pain and ignoring a few hostile glares as I pushed through the masses, I managed to grab Shanti before he made it out the door. The bouncer eyed us curiously, but made no move to intercede.
"Shanti..." I pleaded. "I..."
"Shut up!" He yelled furiously, "Shut up! Just shut up!" Yanking his arm out of my grasp, he slapped me blindly, hitting his mark on the side of my head. My ears rang, broken heads, indeed! Before I could recover I was suddenly being hoisted up into the air by the back of my shirt.
"You want him thrown out, Misses Shanti?" The bouncer asked. The crowd had melted back a little and stood watching in a curious half circle.
"What are you doing!" Shanti screamed. He looked ready to pounce on the bouncer. I was relieved that his rage had suddenly been diverted from me. "Put him down, Hasan, now!"
I was sat down obediently on my feet, which did nothing for my balance. I nearly toppled, but Shanti caught me with his arms. "Shanti..." I tried to catch my breath. "Shut up!" He said. His eyes were wet. I flinched, it must have been a trick with the light.
On the cab ride back I didn't say much. My head was cradled in his lap, his soft hands stroked my ear where he had landed his blow. He was also calling me every dirty name he could think of, which was quite a long list. The lights of the un-preserved sector flashed for a while in the floater's windows, then just as quickly dimmed as we entered Calcutta, where the darkness was ruined by only a smattering of stars.
"I still have some curry left on the stove." I said dreamily. The stars in exo-space were brighter but not as precious. On New Terra, even the cold distant rocks acquired a comforting glow of obscure warmth. "I can heat it up for you."
The temple was remarkably quiet. Soft rain caressed the concrete and made mud peddles where there were none. The smell of pine needles was especially strong, a pleasant departure from the cloying incense. I looked around for Trevor. He was late, again. Trevor had been fond of the Nataraja, even though it was not the main shrine of the temple. The Aghoris representation straddled the stone altar, spreading its nimble arms and staring off into the distance. Fresh blooms grazed its feet, coiling surreptitiously like fat multicolored snakes.
The blue lotus remained where I had laid it, now slightly scorched and shriveled. I frowned, the Brahmins usually cleared away all the wilting flowers each night, to make room for new wreaths. Warily I reached out and touched it. The lotus shuddered and shed a browned petal.
"Is that... thing, yours?"
I turned around and looked at the boy who had spoken. He was pointing an accusing finger at the lotus. Instinctively I cradled it to my chest as if I was protecting it from him.
"So it is!" He said triumphantly. I must have incidentally given away my involvement in a crime of some sort, such was the way he scowled at me. I found myself unable to break his gaze, and could only stare mutely at him. He was very beautiful to behold. My eyes rested appreciatively on his perfect features. His stance was easy and confident, his chin tilted upwards almost contemptuously. His eyes were large and black, with a slight slant and full lashes. His lips were pink and robust, opened slightly to reveal the glimmer of white teeth and the dark moist promise inside. He had a slender, willowy body with finely toned muscles and smooth, olive colored skin. His hair was as black as his eyes, glossy as if oiled and long enough to touch the dip of his back. He was dressed like a Brahmin. I noticed for the first time that there were other priests behind him, groveling as if they were his retainers. One of them cleared his throat, and the boy gave him an annoyed, imperious look. His hold on me was broken.
"How dare you bring that foul plant into my temple!" He declared, returning his attention to me. "Who put you up to it?"
"Your temple?" I said incredulously. "What do you mean your temple?" The Brahmins exchanged uneasy glances with themselves, and one of them stepped forward to whisper rapidly into the boy's ear. He kept glowering, and shifted impatiently on his feet. With an irritated grunt he suddenly turned and stalked off, leaving the Brahmins to scramble anxiously after him.
"What's going on?" Trevor asked, watching the retreating group curiously. I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, although the encounter had perturbed and mystified me. "Some extraordinarily odd sect, I think."
Trevor seemed to brighten, "Hey, I remember them! Those are the crazy Shivanites who claims to have found the Great Lord - Nataraja in the flesh!"
My stomach fluttered strangely. "What do you mean? So they're priests, they're always finding god in unlikely places."
"The boy that's with them," Trevor explained patiently, "They call him Shiva. I know what you think, that the practice of worshipping living gods as reincarnation or manifestation of the real gods is not uncommon, but this is more than that. They say he is more than flesh and blood, unlike the other living gods who are supplemented by mortal children, no one else gets a term at his godhood. He is, very simply, the Real Deal!"
Trevor chuckled in good humor at his own lecture, lightening the implications of his words. "God or not," I said finally. "He was quite rude."
"Oh? What did he say to you?"
I shrugged, "He didn't like my flower, I guess." I showed him the lotus. Trevor cupped it in his hand, looking pensive.
"A blue lotus sprung from Vishnu's navel and gave birth to Brahma, who created the world." He said. Quoted, more precisely. I wouldn't doubt word for word from a data stream. "Vishnu's four arms holds the conch shell, the discus, the mace, and the lotus. It's no wonder that Shiva took offense at you bringing a symbol of his not so much appreciated colleague into his temple."
"Oh." I felt stupid. I knew that, but failed to think of it. Pocketing the lotus, I said. "Well, what's done is done. Let's get to work."
Work was work, but I found that I couldn't get into the meticulous process of decoding nuances and stock piling unknown variables. Too much has been going on. Boredom I could handle, but all this excitement was making me tired. It was late afternoon when Veya showed up and caught me snoring on the console. He didn't exult at my failing this time.
"My office, now!" And stormed off. Trevor looked up and smirked at me. I warned you, he mouthed. I grimaced, rubbing my face blearily. I had expected to be reprimanded by Veya, but when I found him he was staring out of his window in an exceptionally mellow mood.
"Look," He said without turning around. "About last night, I hope you will keep your discretion, and I will mine."
"Sure." I said unsurely.
"I don't want anyone to know that I... pleasured a rank-less Intel."
Who would I tell? I wanted to say. Who would care? But the expression on his face when he looked at me shut me up. He wasn't really thinking about last night, he was pre-occupied with something else. Bartering with me was just a mean of keeping himself from thinking about whatever it is.
"So, when is the Deus coming?" I said by way of changing the subject. Veya's eyes seemed to brighten, "Tomorrow!" Then he narrowed them, "You have something proper to wear, haven't you? None of this out-dated business!" He waved a hand condescendingly at my button down and trousers.
"I can't be proper with ten units on my credit line." I said smoothly.
Veya rolled his eyes. "Charge it on the expense account, then! Just... don't embarrass me in front of the Deus."
I raised an eyebrow. He dismissed me by turning back to his window.
"Mmmmm!" Shanti said about my suit, raising an eyebrow skeptically as he picked at the lining. "Not really you, is it, Neuro?"
I shrugged, studying him as he scrutinized my purchases. He acted like... like nothing's changed. I didn't know whether that was something I should be grateful or angry about, but I wasn't about to pursue it. "It's for the reception."
He smiled and leaned against the grill work headboard of my bed, surrounded by tissue paper and empty boxes. "This Deus, what is he? Some kind of royalty or something?"
"I guess you can say that. The Deus modules have an enormous influence on the Collective Consciousness. They posses certain desirable traits that unify and characterize the Collective by bringing lesser idiosyncrasies together."
Shanti looked blank.
"They posses the ultimate in a skill or an emotion or a urge," I tried again, "They feel so much and so strongly that it overwhelms lesser but similar traits and harmonizes them so the Collective would not become divided in its ultimate goals and the way it behaves. They keep us from getting schizophrenic." I didn't think he really understood, it was difficult to comprehend the Consciousness without being a part of it. Even now I find difficult to describe it in words. It is something every Synthetic inherently knows, a sacred and shared bond that makes us what we are as a species.
"So what's this Deus Mercury like?" Shanti asked. "What does he feel?"
"I can not guess at his feelings." I said. "But his main features are agility, efficiency, reliability and multi-morphism."
"Is he cute?"
I smiled. "Deus are very... distinctive, each has remarkable individual features. Some would call them exquisite. Because of their role in the Collective, they are very powerful, and very rich."
"How powerful?" Shanti asked eagerly, his eyes glittering.
"Powerful enough to destroy the earth, and then re-build it." I said, thinking of Mars, the Deus of bloodshed. To him, the War had been a game that he merely grew tired of playing. I shuddered to imagine what would have been if he had pursued it to its wretched end, certainly there would have been no Calcutta left to preserve.
The conversation engrossed Shanti's mind, his eyes drifted away into a far off place. I changed the subject after a moment of silence by putting my hand on his thigh. His skin was pleasantly cool, soft and smooth like satin. He wore black lace panties trimmed with playful ruffs. With his legs bent, the peek-a-boo fabric hid his incomplete manhood and anal orifice tantalizingly. Thin garters held up his stockings. His black vinyl heels were polished to a wet shine. I grabbed his ankle, experiencing the erotic texture of fishnet and skin. Shanti moistened his lips slowly, undoing his hair so that it spilled like an ink stained waterfall over his chest and shoulders. He was squeezed into a corset that pinched even his tiny waist. It made his breathing short and ragged, his nipples pink and hard. I tugged off his underwear, sliding it down past his long legs and throwing it on the floor. Like all sluts he wore it outside of his garters. He grinned wickedly, reaching over to unzip me. My member sprang out in excitement, mindless with the want for release. His fingers danced across it teasingly, brushing at all my sensitive spots with knowing. I panted in building anticipation, he lied down and threw his legs over my shoulders.
I spread him, pushing his thighs against his chest. His anus winked at me, helplessly bare and defenseless. I caressed its swollen rim, marveling at its tenderness. He moaned lustfully, wiggling his bottom in impatience. "Put it in, Neuro! Baby-boy, you think you are as old as the Vedas, but you haven't even gone past horny adolescence. What are you waiting for? Fuck me!"
"Shanti." I said, kissing the inside of his naked thigh. He licked his fingers and shoved them inside of himself, groaning and writhing as I drew his legs even further apart. His anus swallowed his index and middle fingers up to the knuckle. I was entranced by the way they moved in and out of the rose-colored hole, distending it to make room for my penis.
"Fuck my boy-pussy, Neuro!" Shanti gasped. "Fuck me! I want to be your bitch! I'll do anything you want, I'll get in any position you like! Why won't you let me be your little girl? You can beat me when I'm bad. All I ever think about is being fucked by you. Won't you be my daddy? I want to be your sex toy... Aaah!"
I entered him in one swift motion and he shrieked my name. His nails dug into my back, leaving sharp little crescents behind. The feeling of his insides was incredible, tight and warm and slick with juices. He arched his back and tossed his head wildly, his sphincter muscles contracting in defiance to the invasion and gripping my dick with their spasms. My hands squeezed the tender side under his knees, holding his legs up in the air. Slowly I pushed in, penetrating him until my balls were pressed against his wide-stretched asshole. I laid my head down against his heaving chest and heard the loud expletive of his lungs contracting. My mouth opened and my tongue darted out to taste the perspiration on his skin, licking their way to his perfect nipples. They were small but hard, trembling as I suckled them. I swayed my hips gently, making him moan with the motion. Then I began to fuck him in earnest, thrusting deep and pulling out as far as I can. Shanti screamed in ecstasy, he was always very vocal about his pleasures and displeasures. His fisted hands clenched at the sheets, his eyes rolled back. "Shanti!" I moaned, one hand cupping his behind and the other squeezing his nipple as I slammed viciously against his prostate.
"Neuro!" He yelled, "Neuro! Neuro! Don't stop! Harder! Harder!"
My strokes became shorter and faster, building up heat against his delicate anal walls. I was fucking him as hard as I dared without hurting him too much. He yelped in sync with the motion every time I bumped against his gland. Soon I began to loose track of my rhythm, my balls throbbed painfully with the need to ejaculate. "I'm gonna...!" I told him frantically, clasping his waist tightly and bringing him down on my shaft. "I'm gonna cum!"
"Yes! Daddy... Baby...!" He kept me inside of him as my sperm squirted out, trickling into his bowels. "Cum in your little whore! Your little bitch!" His legs wrapped around me and he pulled my head down. Our tongue met and tangled together, pressing against sharp teeth and soft esophagus. I stayed inside him even as I went limp and the sheets began to stain with our excretions.