Friday, 11 August 2017

Chel and Miguel - The Rod to El Dorassdo

Original by the awesome Cesium.




“But you and Tulio are gay, right?”

Miguel's jaw dropped. “WHAT?! No! No no no! Nononono! No! Why in the known world would you think that?”

“I heard you two in your room... the other night... making noises... that sort of sounded like you were playing a rough game of ball... without the ball...” Chel raised one eyebrow higher and higher with each remark, and with each remark Miguel looked dumber and dumber, with a gaping maw and his hands in the air, trying to capture her meaning.

“C’mon!” Chel finally screeched in disbelief. “Either you two were fucking like animals, or you were murdering each other; but you’re both still alive, and I can’t see any bruises or cuts on either of you!”

“Well, I have a bit of a limp,” Miguel feigned an injury with a step and a hop; “he got me a good one. We were merely sorting out a slight disagreement. You know how it is with friends—there’s always something that needs working out.”

“Working in, you mean.” Chel couldn’t contain a smirk, which spread wide across her smooth, plump cheeks.

“GAH! Ok ok ok!” Miguel cried, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “Tulio and I... well sometimes we need to... you know how it is when you’re together alone for a long time!” He slumped into a chair, knowing that his chances with the stunning beauty were dashed and dead.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Chel said with a high tone of triumph, “now I know that you two are more than friends I’ll back right off.” She twirled across the floor away from the man, imitating her words, but rubbing salt into Miguel’s wound by revealing her brown, ample thighs as she lifted her leg.

Miguel jumped out of the chair, waving away her conclusion. “Hey! We’re not more than friends. That’s all we are—just friends. We only do... that... to feel good. The only thing I really like about him is his”—he stopped, hoping not to dig his grave any further. His heart was drooping inside his chest at the thought of losing Chel before the sparks had a chance to catch alight.

“His what?” she asked, standing and facing him, still unable to hide her smirk.

“You know: his... penis,” the final word fell from his mouth like a half-dead fish.

“Oh, is that it?” She sounded strangely relieved. “So that’s really all there is between you two?”

“Yes!” Miguel bemoaned, “I swear! Or Santa Maria Rafaela Garcia Leticia strike me down!” He peeked at the ceiling, just in case.

“So you like penises then?” she asked. Miguel wondered why she was sounding more and more joyous.

“Is this a trap?” he asked, squinting at his inquisitor.

“Just tell me.”

“Yes, yes, I like dicks. Is that what you want to hear?” Before she had a chance to reply, he continued, “In fact, I love them! There, I said it: I love cocks! I love looking at them; holding them; sucking them. I love when they’re inside me! The bigger, the better, I say.”

Chel watched Miguel pace back-and-forth, orating on his joyous affection for thick veins and wide heads, and different types of curves and shapes, and the taste of semen as it slides down his throat. Her hand slid under her skirt, and gently moved up and down.

Miguel, afraid of looking at Chel, but suddenly aware of the lack of noise coming from her direction, turned to check how gleefully she was celebrating his psychological demise, only to have his eyes drawn instantly to the flap which usually covers the front of her legs: it was floating in the air in front of her crotch, hiding her lower belly. Chel smiled.

“Cheeeel,” Miguel said slowly.

“Yeeees, Miguel?”

“Is there any reason why your flap-thing is floating in the air like that? Are you making fun of me?”

“Can I tell you something, Miguel?” she asked with a hint of apprehension.

“Oh, what is it?” His frustration was boiling over; and even as he said those words he realised he didn’t want to hear the answer: he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. With a puff he turned to walk out.

“Wait!” Chel called after him. He halted, still facing the door. “Meet me tonight, when the moon rises, down by the stream. I have something to show you.”

“I’ll check my diary,” he said as he walked out.




To be continued... (?)



2 comments:

  1. Oh, I like that, especially the fascination with cocks, rather than an attraction to a single gender.

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    1. I'm glad you do - it's one of the things I find fascinating about the love for futa from the straight male community: a lot of men love dicks, regardless of their orientation. It's just another wonder in the beautiful world of sex :)

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