Shorts

Cutie Cumpire Measures Up

Nora and Jasper were first introduced in Cutie Cumpire Goes to the Movies

You can find all of the Cutie Cumpire stories at Cutie Cumpire Story Index


Jasper carefully folded macaron batter by the oven in his—well, theirs now—little studio apartment while Nora sat on a bar stool by the island.

“You really do measure everything!” Nora said. She giggled as Jasper counted the number of strokes as he folded.

He quirked an eyebrow at her but didn’t dare lose his count—not until the batter was at the correct honey-like consistency and ready to be piped.

“I never would have thought the math degree would be relevant to baking, but here we are.” Jasper scooped the batter into the piping bag and double-checked the oven temperature. He’d gone so far as to calculate his oven’s heating curve and to tweak the bake temperature and time accordingly.

“So we are,” Nora said with a grin.

Jasper carefully piped the macaron shells, and once they were safely tucked to the back of the counter to rest, he started to clean up.

“If you like measuring things this much,” Nora said, “I’m surprised you haven’t measured your cum yet.”

Jasper’s cock twinged eagerly as if to say, did someone say cum? but he ignored it. “I’ve been tempted, but I know how you feel when I waste my cum.”

Nora blinked and tilted her head. “Wait, you’re being serious.”

Jasper’s cheeks heated. “Yeah.”

Nora laughed gently and looked at him like he was a puppy slowly rolling down the stairs. “Aw, babe. You should have said something! If you cum in a measuring cup, I’ll drink it.”

Jasper could not keep his cock from responding to that summons. He gulped. “Really?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s still hot, I don’t care.”

Jasper’s cock throbbed and pressed against his jeans. “I’m a Grade A idiot, aren’t I?”

“Yeah but you’re my idiot and you’re cute, so. You’ve already got the stuff out and you’re about to run the dishwasher, right? Let’s find out!”

And though it was true that Jasper’s brain became incredibly slow when it was blood deprived, Nora also moved unnaturally fast around the island. Perks of being a vampire, apparently. Within a moment, she was stroking his cock to full hardness.

His whole body quivered with pleasure. “Fuck, Nora, how does that feel so good every time…”

Nora giggled. “Isn’t it supposed to?”

“D-doesn’t seem like it should be allowed to feel this good…” Her hands were so soft and warm, and she knew all his most sensitive spots.

“Well, you have a point. I am demon-spawn. Satan knows what’s up.”

“Remind me to send them a thank-you note…”

“Filling this measuring cup with an obscene amount of cum seems like a good way to thank Satan. What do you think?” Somehow, Nora had also grabbed a clear glass measuring cup, which now sat on the counter next to them.

Jasper’s balls throbbed in agreement. “S-sounds good to me…”

He let himself sink into appreciating Nora—the strokes from her tongue, the gentle sucking at his tip, the warmth of her hands. And then, just as he was getting close to the edge, he had an idea. Because if there was one thing that Jasper was good at, it was torturing himself.

“If you want to get a really good sample, I should go get my butt plug.” Jasper blinked, and then Nora was no longer stroking him and was instead standing in front of him with said toy in one hand, a bottle of lube in the other, and a wicked smile across her lips.

Jasper nearly came just from the sight of it, even as his cock throbbed in the air.

Satan was definitely the right one to thank as Nora started on his ass with her tongue. Nothing turned his mind so utterly and completely to mush as that. He made no conscious decision to stroke himself, but his cock was in his hand and his moans filled the little kitchen. And then, after a generous application of lube, the thick plug filled his ass and the vibrations from the toy sent him trembling with pre-orgasmic sparks of heat.

Nora let him stroke himself but took charge, encouraging him with her own moans and gasps and then ordering him to stop as he reached the edge. Then she edged him a second time. And a third.

Pre-cum dripped into the measuring cup in time to his ass squeezing around the toy, and Nora cooed eagerly. “There’s already so much!”

Another thick surge answered. “Fuck, Nora, I’m gonna…”

“No,” Nora commanded.

Jasper gasped, groaned, and somehow stopped stroking long enough to recede from that point of no return. “H-how do you do that to me…”

Nora grinned. “You’re just naturally obedient.”

Jasper spurted pre-cum again.

“Stop,” Nora ordered.

He did. But the sparks of pleasure lingered, trailing around his ass and his base, through his aching prostate, riding on the vibrations from the toy. If he’d stopped even a half a second later, he would have cum even while he wasn’t stroking at all.

“Nora… this toy is…” He clenched around it, grimacing. “It’s gonna make me…” His hand started stroking again, despite his best efforts to stop. “Nora…”

Nora growled hungrily. “Make this fucking cup overflow.”

The heat ignited, gathering tight at his base. “Nora, I’m gonna…”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Cum for me!”

Jasper cried out as his two remaining brain cells struggled to direct the torrent of his orgasm into the measuring cup. Every spasm of his muscles around the toy was so intense, every spurt was so thick that he could feel it all the way down his length, his balls and ass and cock throbbing in time with each other and fulling the measuring cup with pump after pump, right to the brim.

It was only by Nora’s careful attention and balance that it didn’t spill all over the floor. She waited patiently for every last drop.

Finally, Jasper was finished. He turned off the toy, but left it in place for now. He didn’t dare look away from Nora, because she was staring up at him with those bright blue eyes and a wicked smile on her lips.

She unfolded her mouth, curled her tongue under the spout of the measuring cup, and then tipped it back and chugged his cum.

Jasper caught himself on the edge of the counter as he wobbled. His nerves had no idea what to do. He was so exhausted, so empty, so spent, but a sight like this deserved nothing less than bone-boiling arousal. Jasper memorized every detail. He would fantasize about this for many, many orgasms to come.

As Nora tipped back the glass and drank the last of it, Jasper’s body finally started to relax. But then her tongue arced out, and she licked the viscous remnants from the inside of the glass, like a cat licking out a bowl of cream. The glimpses of her tongue through the glass and the milky white of his cum sent his frayed nerves buzzing.

“I think I’m short-circuiting,” Jasper muttered.

Nora laughed, but she didn’t stop licking until the measuring cup was clean. She wiped off her mouth and then proudly deposited the cup in the dishwasher.

Jasper sunk another few inches. “I need to go lie down.”

Nora snickered, but wrapped an arm around him and helped him over to the couch. She returned to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and then snuggled in next to him.

Jasper drank almost the whole glass immediately. “I, uh… I knew I came a lot, but I didn’t realize it was that much.”

“How else did you think my ass was getting so round?”

“One, your ass has always been amazingly round. Two, you know I don’t understand vampire metaphysics.”

“I’m kinda surprised you didn’t cum again from watching me drink it.”

“Oh, my body tried to, believe you me. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem possible. If it were, I think I’d end up in some kind of infinite while loop—when Nora is drinking cum, cum more for Nora to drink. It would only end with you too full to drink any more or me dead, and my money’s on me dying first.”

Nora snorted a laugh. “We can’t have that. You should video me next time. I want to see what it does to you once you’ve recovered.”

“I will, and don’t worry, I took a very detailed mental recording too.”

Nora nestled her cheek against his shoulder. They rested there for a long few minutes, Jasper’s body doing its best to restore his internal fluid distribution to equilibrium.

Then Nora said quietly, “Just… for the record… If you’re ever sick or sore or just not feeling it… I can still go get cow’s blood. I don’t want you to get hurt. And if—well if you ever stopped cumming so much or even not at all—I’d still want to be with you. I mean it.”

Jasper looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against his chest. She fit so perfectly there. They fit each other so perfectly in so many ways. “I believe you,” he breathed. “Thank you for saying so. I am, for the record, very happy with our arrangement. I promise I’ll tell you if I need a break.”

Nora wrapped her arms around him. “Good. Yes. I love you.”

Jasper kissed the top of her head. “I love you too. Now how about we finish these macarons and then head to bed and see how many ways we can thank Satan for making us so lucky.”


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Shorts

Cutie Cumpire Goes to Work


Nora and Jasper met up again on Friday. And Saturday. Jasper had agreed to help his mom with her gardening on Sunday, but they saw each other again on Monday. And Tuesday. And then later that week, they exchanged phone numbers. The next week, they traded addresses.

And then just like that, they were dating. Boyfriend/girlfriend in-real-life dating.

Their sexting was undiminished. And Nora was being particularly brazen on a Tuesday afternoon.

Jasper: C’mon Nora, you can’t do this to me…

Nora: Why? 😈

Jasper: I can’t have an erection at work all day!

Nora: Deal with it.

Jasper: I would, but I don’t think you want this all going down the drain.

Nora: No! 😡 don’t waste my cum!

Jasper: Then stop sending me pictures of your ass!

Nora: then stop looking at them 😈

Jasper: You know I can’t…

Nora: 🍑🍑🍑

Jasper: I actually don’t think I can make it through the day 😣 I have a client meeting this afternoon…

Nora: 😭 fineeee

Jasper looped his hoodie over his arm and stood stiffly from his desk. It looked weird, but at least it wasn’t as obscene as his cock throbbing in the front of his jeans. He went the long way around the office hallway to the private bathroom on the far side and silently begged forgiveness from his nonbinary coworkers.

And then he was in the bathroom with the door locked and one hand on his cock, the other texting Nora, and he moaned with relief.

He sent her a short video of his throbbing cock.

She texted back immediately.

Nora: No fair!!!

Jasper: I think it’s only fair. You’ve been sending me pictures of your ass all day!

Nora: This is different!!!

Jasper: yeah, you did this to me and you deserve it 😈

Nora didn’t respond right away, and Jasper settled into his stroking. He still hadn’t figured out exactly where he was going to cum—toilet paper was not going to cut it—but the sink was probably his best option. For now, he leaned back against the wall and flipped back to the pictures of Nora’s ass.

Then a new message suddenly scrolled his view down again.

Nora: Is there a window in that bathroom?

Jasper glanced up. There was a small window for ventilation, but it was closed and high to the ceiling.

Jasper: Yeah but nowhere big enough for a person to climb through.

Nora: I’ll be right there.

Jasper: Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to buzz you in like this. We’re past the point of no return here.

Nora didn’t respond.

She probably got distracted or realized that she had actual work to do. Jasper sank bank into his stroking and sent a few more teasing messages and a snap of his tip dripping, but Nora still didn’t reply.

Then there was a soft thud like a knock at the door, and Jasper froze. How long had it been? The sound came again, but it was opposite from the door. Curiosity temporarily attenuated Jasper’s arousal, and he carefully edged towards the window.

Something dark and small thudded against it again. A confused bird? It approached again, and he saw the distinct silhouette of little finger-like wings. And then Jasper, math genius that he was, put two and two together.

“Shit!” He scurried over to the window, not even bothering to put his dick away, and spun the handle to crank the window open. The little bat fluttered in, and then in a blurry fountain of black sparkles like a party popper, Nora stood before him with her hands on her hips.

“You didn’t think to open the window, asshole?”

Before Jasper could reply, her nostrils flared and her eyes turned down to the pre-cum dripping from his tip, and then with supernatural quickness she was kneeling before him, her mouth around his cock.

“H-hi to you too,” Jasper huffed. But then Nora swallowed around him and his indignation turned to a moan as crackled down his limbs.

His hips thrust reflexively, the movement and the tight heat of Nora’s throat tipping him over the edge all too quickly. He gasped and poured down her throat, spurting hard with every thrust. She squeezed his balls for good measure, and absolutely emptied him.

Jasper leaned heavily against the wall, body struggling to recover from the amount of fluid he’d just lost.

Nora stood, wiped off her mouth. “That flight’s not bad. I can do that any time. Just open the window next time, okay asshole?” And then Nora winked, shifted back into a bat, and fluttered out the window.

Jasper took a deep breath, texted Nora a heart emoji, put his dick away, splashed cold water on his face, and headed back out into the office.

An office where it was now going to be much, much harder to not think about sex.


The next morning, despite his best efforts to be a functioning employee, Jasper couldn’t stop thinking about Nora and he ended up in the same bathroom again. This time, he opened the window first. But Nora didn’t seem to take the bait—she hadn’t responded after his text complaining that he wouldn’t make it to lunch.

Maybe she was busy? He hadn’t exactly planned this. In fact, not even making it to lunch time was embarrassing! He hadn’t even looked at any pictures! Just thinking about Nora at all… it was Pavlovian at this point.

He took a deep breath and slowed his stroking, tried to just enjoy the sensation. Maybe if he could just stroke for a bit and calm himself down without cumming, he could last until lunch time…

What Jasper actually did was edge himself four times while waiting for Nora to reply. So much for promising to never occupy the private bathroom for too long. He was panting and sweaty and dizzy with arousal. He could hardly see straight. He should really just cum first and ask for forgiveness later, but… Jasper groaned as he edged another time. He just… he didn’t want to disappoint Nora…

His phone buzzed, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. But he didn’t stop stroking. In fact, even the idea of his boss walking in on him didn’t bother him at that moment—that’s how far gone he was.

Nora: Fuck, sorry! sales call ran over. I forgive you tho

It was a struggle to focus enough to type the reply, but Jasper managed.

Jasper: I didn’t yet

Nora: fuck, seriously? it’s been 45 minutes!

Jasper: uh… yeah…

Nora: Do you think you can hang in two more mins?

Jasper: I’m really really close, I’ve edged like five times now, but I’ll do my best

Nora: Worst case I’ll just lick u off the floor 😉

Pre-cum burst from Jasper’s tip. He grimaced and snatched his hand back from his cock, growling until the spasms faded.

Jasper: Not helping!

Nora: Sorry! I’ll be right there! Hang in there big guy~

Jasper tried to keep his hand off of his cock, but he only managed that for thirty seconds. He stroked himself as slowly as he could, but it was still more than enough stimulation to send his head spinning. He teetered on the edge, pre-cum dribbling from his tip as his balls and prostate throbbed. Was it possible to overdose on endorphins? He felt like he might, like his body was melting, like he might lose his capacity for rational thought if he lingered there any longer.

He was losing it. His breathing was quickening, and he couldn’t slow it. His balls felt so tight, like they might burst if he waited another second.

He didn’t think she could see her phone while she was on the wing, but it was the only thing that was going to keep him from tipping over the edge.

Hurry fuck, Nora, I’m so fucking close please hurry

And then he was saying it, whispering it under his breath as he couldn’t force himself to stop stroking, couldn’t fight the pleasure that bloomed in slow-motion. “Nora, fuck, please hurry… hurry…”

And then she appeared before him, kneeling with her mouth open under his tip, and he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, but he was begging, “Hurry, fuck, Nora I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

Jasper fractured as the dam burst and he poured into her mouth, her blue eyes turned up at him and shining, her hot breath on his cock, her tongue pressed up under his tip. Right before her mouth overflowed, she gulped him down and then closed around him, sucking down the rest of his orgasm as he pumped his shaft, her tongue swirling under his tip.

“Nora… oh fuck, Nora… I’m still… I’m still cumming…” It was like every orgasm he’d denied himself had backed up in a queue and worked its way out now, and he just kept filling her mouth and she just kept swallowing him.

Until finally, finally, Jasper shuddered to a stop.

Nora rocked back to sit on her heels, also panting. She looked up at him with those bright blue eyes.

Her expression was so intense that Jasper worried she might be about to scold him, to tell him he shouldn’t cut it so close, that he was an idiot with shit timing, especially as she shot to her feet.

But then her mouth was on his and he was kissing her back, and she was grinding on his legs, and his fingers were behind her soaked panties and curling up into her sex, and she was moaning, panting, cumming as hard as he had.

And then they held each other close as their hearts slowed.

“That was so hot,” Nora said.

“Y-yeah,” Jasper said.

Nora checked her watch. “Shit, I’m gonna be late for my next call!” She kissed him on the cheek. “Talk to you soon!”

Five minutes later, when Jasper was sneaking down the back stairway so that he could slip out and come back with a coffee to hide exactly where he’d been for nearly an hour, his phone buzzed.

Nora: Fuck, I didn’t think this could get any hotter, but I hadn’t seen these yet. We’re doing that again. Except I want to be there the whole time.

Jasper couldn’t help the dumb grin spreading across his face. He’d only ever hoped for someone who’d put up with his… quirks. That Nora seemed to actually like them… it didn’t seem possible to be so lucky.

Jasper: I dunno, I might actually die

Nora: That’s a risk I’m willing to take

Jasper: Wouldn’t you miss me?

Nora: We both know you’d come back as a ghost and give me plenty of ectoplasm 👻

Jasper snorted a laugh as he pushed out through the staircase door and into the warm afternoon. And then he realized something that made his stomach lurch up into his ribcage.

He wrote, I love you

Then he lengthened it to, I love your sense of humor

And then he dug deep, found his spine, straightened it, shortened the message back to I love you and hit send. He stuffed his phone in his pocket, resolving to not stare at it like an idiot, and headed towards the coffee shop.

It buzzed immediately, and he stopped short and yanked it out. So much for not being pathetic.

Nora: haha, ur such a nerd

Jasper held his breath.

Nora: I love u 😘

Jasper read the message again. And a third time. Not I love it, but I love you.

Jasper sent a heart emoji, took a deep breath, put his phone away, and went to order the fanciest fucking coffee on the menu to celebrate.


The end 🙂 (for now!)

Jasper and Nora were first introduced in the standalone short, Cutie Cumpire Goes to the Movies.

You can find all of the Cutie Cumpire stories at Cutie Cumpire Story Index


Enjoying these stories? The best way to show it is to share with your friends and buy me a bubble tea! ❤️

Still hungry? You can read more Bite-Sized Stories here, or head over to The Cookie Jar to see everything, including full-length novels.

You can also follow me on PatreonTwitter, or subscribe to the blog here:

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Shorts

Cutie Cumpire and the Sticky Keys


Within an hour, she’d replied.

u/CutieCumpire69xxx replied to your post in r/RedditorCum 🥵🥵🥵 Fuck, I wish I was that wall…

It was like licking a battery, the electric jolt at seeing that comment. It arrived just as he was getting ready for bed. He put down a navy towel and fucked a silicone sleeve over the edge of the bed, making another massive puddle for the camera.

He awoke to the comment, adkhgkdagl fuck, yes.

Jasper’s pulse fluttered. This was officially enough of a thing for him to reply without it being creepy, he decided. And while he wished that the words would come as easily as he did so that he could jack off for the morning and be about his day, he fretted over the exact wording for his entire morning routine and most of the train ride to work.

What he finally settled on was: 👀 I like your pics. I could look at them next time, if you’d like that.

He still wasn’t sure if the correct grammar and punctuation made him look polite or like some sociopathic CEO serial killer, but it was only going to be cringey if he tried to sound casual, and that was way worse.

Jasper saw the reply at lunchtime.

🥵 Yes, please!

Jasper got exactly zero work done the rest of the day. He sorted email, and then re-sorted it. He cleaned his desk, and then also the common kitchen. He printed out an article on machine learning algorithms and then sat by the window, flipping the page every two minutes, seeing none of the words.

Fortunately, while pulses of arousal harried him all day, the predominant emotion was anxiety, which saved him from having to hide an erection for four hours. He was simultaneously contemplating backing out and also considering how to over-achieve.

Her pictures were public. And he wanted her to know that he really was looking at her. So he was thinking through the logistics of where to pull up her pictures so that he could have them in-frame as he masturbated, without cumming all over his keyboard.

Or maybe he should cum all over his keyboard…

The last few hours of the day crawled by as Jasper worked out his plan.


After entirely too much fretting, Jasper finally set up. He taped his phone to the end of his broom to prop it up at the right angle, covered his old laptop in plastic wrap and set it on the table, and then fussed with his floor lamp for a full fifteen minutes so that there wasn’t too much glare.And then he took a step back and shook his head at just how much effort he was putting into impressing a faceless username on the internet.

But… it wasn’t really just that, was it? Her comment in the venting thread had stuck with him. She seemed to like his videos. She certainly put up with a lot of bullshit just existing in the world.So to have a little fun, to do something elaborate in her honor, hopefully making it clear that he didn’t expect anything in return… Maybe it would make her smile. And that would be pretty cool.

Jasper stood awkwardly in front of his table, naked and not at all erect, remembering that he was supposed to be recording himself jacking off.

He scrolled the wireless mouse next to him on the table and pulled open the first tab—a picture of her pulling up a short skirt and spreading her legs for the camera.

His cock throbbed to life, and he reached around to tap the record button on his phone.He’d arranged the tabs in order of clothedness to simulate a striptease. He was either a romantic genius or a total creep.And while his cock was certainly responding, when he flipped to the next image of her panties half pulled around her ass, he still couldn’t shake that feeling of being a peeping Tom. Except—she had said ‘yes, please!’. If that wasn’t enthusiastic consent, he didn’t know what was. And all the photos were public. So he wasn’t creeping… Or if he was, then she wanted him to, right?

A jolt of electric pleasure through his cock, like the ding of a game show bell, confirming that Jasper had found the truth. He was being a total fucking creep, and she liked it, she wanted it. She wanted him alone in his kitchen desperately masturbating at the sight of her, she probably liked the way the sight of her breasts chased all rational thought from his mind… And fuck he had made this slideshow way too long because apparently the idea of being a consensual voyeur was enough to make him burst.

Jasper slowed and tried to make it last, finally allowing himself to stare at her breasts, to picture his fingers between her legs, to imagine his teeth pulling off her panties.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” Jasper breathed—not in that porno way that always sounded so fake, but breathy and desperate and surprised, because he literally could not stop himself from saying it.

“Y-you make my balls feel so fucking tight, a-and I came so hard last night, but I’m so full again… I was totally useless at work today…” The muscles around his base clenched tight, his prostate throbbing and sending pre-cum through his length and dripping onto the table. “Fuck, I’m dripping… I’m not gonna last much longer…”

As the pre-orgasmic pleasure swirled at his base, Jasper growled and forced himself to stop stroking. His cock throbbed needily, balls tensing and squeezing, as much pre-cum oozing from his tip as a regular person ejaculated.

“B-but you want as much as you can get, right? The l-least I can do is edge once…” He forced himself to take deeper, slower breaths until the sizzle of urgency faded enough that he could start stroking again.

Despite his best efforts, he hurtled quickly towards the peak again. “Cutie, you make me so fucking desperate…” He didn’t realize it until it was out of his mouth, but that’s how he’d been thinking of her these past few days. ‘Cutie’. He hoped it wasn’t too weird, hoped it didn’t bother her, because whatever part of his brain was steering his mouth now really wanted to say her name—or as close to it as he knew.

“Cutie… fuck! I’m gonna…” Jasper just barely remembered that there was one more thing to do before he came, and he pried his hand away from his cock and clicked over to the last tab.

This was the pinnacle of his romantic genius/total creepiness, the grand finale, the coup de grâce that would send him careening past the point of no return.

It was a close-up picture of her breasts, hanging like ripe fruit under her collarbone tattoo of the bat with spread wings, the browser zoom set to 200% so that the title of the post was massive and bold over the top of the screen: Show me how much you’d cum on these cutie tits

This was why Jasper had wrapped the laptop in plastic. As soon as the words hit his eyes, he burst, thick ropes of cum splattering across the screen. The sight of his cum across her breasts undid some kind of restraint within him, removed some sort of flow limiter, and somehow his fourth, fifth, sixth pulses were each stronger than the last. He moaned like he had never moaned before, and even as his flow finally slowed, it didn’t stop. He just kept throbbing and oozing and stroking until his puddle reached the edges of the plastic-wrapped keyboard.

Thick globs of his cum trailed obscenely down the image of her breasts.

“Holy fuck…” he breathed. It took him a minute longer than usual to return to his senses enough to step back and reach for his phone. “Hope that wasn’t, uh… too much…” And then he hit stop.

Jasper flipped over to the submission page before he lost his nerve. It had seemed like a good idea, but he was about to post her images in his video… but they were also public, right? And he could always delete it later.

His finger hovered over the send button. But she couldn’t delete it later. They were her pictures, but they were in his video. And jesus fucking algorithm christ, the thumbnail that the video hosting site had chosen for the video was his splatter of cum dripping under that distinctive bat tattoo.

While Jasper would pull down as soon as she asked, she couldn’t know that for sure. She’d agreed to him looking at her, not re-posting her likeness.

Jasper chewed on his lip and exited out of the submission screen. With the video URL still on his clipboard, he pulled open her profile and tapped ‘Chat’.

Hey, I’m really sorry if this is crossing a line to DM you, but I wanted to make sure it was OK with you first before I posted this video. If you’d rather I don’t post it, that’s no problem. And if you want me to delete it, I promise I will, no backups and no questions asked.

Jasper wanted to also add ‘And if you want to block me, I totally get that too’ but he didn’t want to come across as too pathetic, so he took a deep breath, pasted the URL and hit ‘send’.

And then he waited. And realized that he was being an idiot and had never actually made dinner, so he put his phone away and pulled out a skillet.


Continued in Cutie Cumpire Gets Sextual

Jasper and Nora were first introduced in the standalone short, Cutie Cumpire Goes to the Movies.

You can find all of the Cutie Cumpire stories at Cutie Cumpire Story Index


Enjoying these stories? The best way to show it is to share with your friends and buy me a bubble tea! ❤️

Still hungry? You can read more Bite-Sized Stories here, or head over to The Cookie Jar to see everything, including full-length novels.

You can also follow me on PatreonTwitter, or subscribe to the blog here:

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Part 4: The Interloper, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 25: Come for Lunch

Linza had not spoken directly with the madame since the day of her job offer. She’d seen the madame often around the estate, but the madame was usually on her way somewhere or speaking with her assistant. When the madame and her assistant spoke quietly and walked together like that, even guests knew better than to disturb them. 

So Linza was eager for this opportunity to speak with the madame again. They sat on the private veranda just as they had for Linza’s interview. The madame wore a dress woven of golden metallic thread, loose except for where it tied snugly at her waist, effortless and yet extravagant. It made her greenish skin look like jade set in gold. 

Wyn had told Linza that she should harangue the madame into taking her on as a pupil. Linza would do no such thing. She just wanted to express her thanks. 

And so Linza’s jaw had nearly dropped to the table when the madame had said, “The reason I invited you to speak today was to discuss the matter of you coming into my direct tutelage.”

“I would learn directly under you?” Linza blushed at her own accidental innuendo. 

The madame nodded. “Yes.”

“May I ask… why me?” Things were going well with her clients, but it had only been a couple of months.

“You may. Would you like to?” The madame was ever so precise, but never pedantic. 

Linza swallowed and nodded. 

The madame’s full lips curled into a smile. “Your combination of empathy, sincerity, alacrity, and imagination are rare indeed. And, you’re good with numbers. I cannot run this estate forever, much as I’d like to. I seek to leave her with capable caretakers. Eventually.”

Linza took a deep breath. Her heart writhed, looking for some way to defer or deflect the compliments. But she didn’t want to come across as ungrateful. And maybe… maybe she could even believe it was true. Flattery and manipulation were antithetical to the madame’s stated values. And Linza trusted the madame’s opinion—this was only her second time speaking with the woman, but the estate spoke for itself.

So Linza let herself feel a little proud. Let herself smile. And then beam. “There will be documentation to review?”

“Of course.” The madame grinned. 

Linza nodded. “I look forward to it!”

A soft laugh like waves on the beach shook the madame’s ample chest under the golden cloth. “That you are sincerely excited by documentation is no small part of what will make you an excellent caretaker.”

Linza’s cheeks heated with a blush. “That, um, that does make sense.”

With the business out of the way, the madame turned the conversation to more casual topics. It was brilliant to speak freely with her. The madame was sharp and clever and sincere. She was just getting into the story of how she’d purchased the first property in the estate when a commotion arose from just outside the private veranda—shouting and then a struggle by the entrance. 

Then the wooden doors flung open and a broad half-orc man stalked out, shrugging off the madame’s guards, who looked apologetically at her. The guards wore blades at their hips and moved with fatal ease—they would have used deadly force to stop a genuine threat. But this half-orc seemed too strong to contain without such means and yet not dangerous enough to warrant them. He was the sort of man used to going wherever he wanted to. 

He was only a finger’s breadth taller than the Madame, with a mane of wavy black hair, and he was wearing nothing but black leather shorts that were hardly longer than small clothes. Irritation surged up in Linza’s chest like a hissing cat, and she was not sure which she found more annoying—the rude interruption, or that the mess of his hair and the taper from his broad shoulders down to those tight leather shorts was instantly alluring.

“Look.” He held up his hands to the guard. “I said it’ll only take a second. Just a quick chat. No need to be feisty.” His voice was warm and deep and Linza hated how nice it sounded.

The madame stood and crossed her arms, easily looking the intruder in the eye. “Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice was even—neither challenging nor indulging the interloper.

He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his shorts. “I heard a half-orc can get some decent work around here, is all. Just trying to put in a polite inquiry.”

The madame put a hand on her hip. “A half-orc can get decent work in plenty of places around the kingdom.”

“Yeah, but here I can get paid to have sex.” His lips twitched with a smile—not exactly lecherous, but certainly not innocent.

“Hm. I see you are not lacking for desire. Few orcish men are. But you may lack desperately for self-control.”

“Let me prove myself.” His bare chest puffed forward. 

“Alright.”

The madame leaned over to Linza and explained what she expected to happen, quietly so that the man couldn’t hear. 

Linza’s cheeks heated equally with embarrassment and arousal. Six months ago, she might have slapped someone for suggesting such a thing. Now… she wouldn’t miss what the madame had proposed for the world.

So Linza nodded. “I’ll stay.”

The madame turned back to the interloper. 

“If you would prove yourself, then show me your cock, that I might evaluate it.”

Said cock throbbed underneath the interloper’s small shorts. “With pleasure.”

He slipped his shorts down over his muscular thighs and kicked them off his feet, now fully naked. His cock swelled quickly to full erection, even without his touch. He seemed proud of that. 

Linza could understand why. It was larger than anything she’d ever seen. Not impossible to manage… but certainly a stretch. She shouldn’t have imagined what it would feel like to slide that length inside of her, but she did.

The madame nodded. “Fine. Your girth would please many here. Let us see your performance. You may masturbate.”

The interloper growled out a long sigh as he finally touched his hand to his shaft and stroked himself.

Linza’s pulse quickened, her arousal flaring. But her annoyance grew at the same pace. He was completely ignoring her. Not that a lecherous glance or cross comment would have elicited a positive response, but… well, Linza knew what the madame was about to do, and for the half-orc to cast some of his arrogance in her direction would have sweetened the experience for Linza.

Instead, the unbidden fantasy of grabbing this man by the cock and making him look her in the eye overwhelmed Linza. Her conscious mind reeled, unsure of what to do with that, but her body thrummed with deepening arousal.

“Now, stop,” said the madame. 

“What?” the interloper said.

Linza couldn’t help the wicked grin that pulled at her lips.

“I said stop.” The madame’s voice was pure command.

The interloper stopped stroking. 

“Put your hand down,” the madame said.

With a grunt, he did. His cock throbbed needily, his cheeks flushed and jaw tight with the effort required to stand still. He waited. 

“You may start again,” the madame said.

He was slower now, deliberate. He controlled his breath to curb the building urgency.

“Stop,” the madame said.

He dutifully put his hand to the top of his thigh. Took a deep breath. Swallowed. 

“You may resume,” the madame said.

As he did, he shuddered with a deeper and more visceral pleasure than before. It was not long before pre-cum dripped from his tip and onto the veranda.

“Stop,” the madame said.

He obeyed. 

After her usual length of pause, he twitched. Already, he had learned her timing. Still, he waited.

The madame let another long moment pass and then she said, “Resume.”

Linza was now deeply attuned with many expressions of rising arousal, and she guessed that by his rapid breathing and the steady drip of pre-cum from his tip that he was close to the edge.

The madame allowed him a longer time stroking than before, right up to the edge. 

“Stop.” The word was as powerful as the Command spell that Primmen had demonstrated, though there was no magic now—at least not in the formal sense.

He froze. Shuddered. Grunted. Dripped. Pried his hand away from his shaft.

The madame regarded him, arms still folded.

Linza knew he deserved every bead of sweat forming on his forehead and bare chest with the effort, but she was impressed—mostly because of how sorely tempted she was to slip her own hand down the front of her skirt. She had been eager to watch the interloper squirm, but she was surprised by how deeply she felt the suspense herself. She was irked by how excited she was to see what his face looked like when he came, to see just how much seed a half-orc male could dump uselessly at his feet.

The madame waited a long moment until his breathing had steadied. “Resume.”

And so it went, and the madame edged him again. And again. Five times. The clear puddle at his feet reached his toes. His resolve did not waver. 

Linza’s resolve, meanwhile, was melting like a candle in a furnace. She was going to need a long, long session in the break room after this. Her whole body tingled sympathetically with the interloper’s pleasure, her breath caught with every hitch in his, her own mind was hazy with lust, and she was sure that her eyes were just as dilated as his were.

The interloper reached the edge again. The madame did not tell him to stop. His breath sawed in ragged gasps. He moaned with every exhale. 

Linza felt like she teetered on the edge herself, although she wasn’t even touching herself.

But the interloper didn’t climax. He stopped himself, his eyes locked on the madame. He teetered at the edge. For a full minute. Just dripping and straining and waiting. 

The madame finally smiled. “Very good. You’ve proven yourself.”

He whined as his ass clenched and his spine straightened, a pulse of clear pre-cum coming with the movement. Nevertheless, he waited. 

Linza wanted to scream at him, ‘Just fucking cum already’, but she held her breath.

The madame’s smile deepened. “Please. Do cum.”

Never had Linza seen a face of such excruciating relief, such enraptured release, as when the man tipped his head back, lips parted, and with a low moan, utterly emptied himself onto the wooden deck. Spurt after spurt splattered at his feet. The volume was proportionate to his girth, and then some. Linza wouldn’t have been able to hold even half of it in her mouth, but she sure as hell would like to try.

He hadn’t glanced her way once, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Her whole body tingled with unreleased arousal, so intense and intoxicating that, despite her better judgement, she would have asked him to fuck her then and there if only he would look at her. And that, her better judgement reminded her, was exactly why the madame insisted on negotiating boundaries and preferences ahead of time before the heat of the moment melted inhibitions.

The interloper’s hand finally slid down to rest on his thigh, his eyes still focused on the madame. It was as if his climax had drained all the fire out of him, leaving just an expression of attentive sincerity. The bullish half-orc seemed now like a lost puppy.

“Good,” the madame said. “You will find decent employ here. Please defer to my staff from now on, and they will show you to your quarters and present you with your terms of employment.”

He bowed his head to the madame and said nothing else as he followed the madame’s assistant away from the veranda. 

The madame returned to her seat.

Linza had not yet returned to her senses. She wasn’t even sure if she could. Or if she ever would again. Who did that brute think he was, stomping in here, demanding a job, and being so fucking attractive? He had no right to affect her this much.

She could put him on his knees, have him begging and pleading to—

Linza needed to do or say something to get out of her head before her mind threw itself completely off the rails.

She cleared her throat and leaned further over the table towards the madame, trying to look casual. “Do things like that happen often?”

The madame looked as nonplussed as ever. “Not often. Half-orcs are usually already a bit more tamed by the time they get here. That one’s fresh from the borderlands. He’ll learn his place soon enough. Quickly, even—he seems like a fast learner.”

“So you’ll have to tame him?” Linza had heard of breaking wild horses. The battle of wills pitted rider against horse, the horse strapped and saddled and bucking wildly to throw the rider. She couldn’t help but imagine riding the half-orc like that, how he would buck and struggle until he was exhausted, how she would break him and he would look up at her with that attentive sincerity—

The madame chuckled. “No, no, and I didn’t mean it so literally. Orcish culture isn’t actually as brutish as that. It’s more about learning what tactics are effective in an interspecies society. He chose to defer and obey, so he’s off to a good start.”

The madame had treated him so unlike she treated Linza. To each their own, it seemed. Would the madame teach Linza more about how to deal with orcish men? And why was she so eager at the idea of putting this particular man in his place?

Linza did her best to focus as she and the madame discussed orcish culture for the rest of their lunch, but she could not quite shake the fantasy of that insufferable interloper moaning obediently between her legs.

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Part 2: Training, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 11: The Break Room

After a week, Linza felt like she and Tanyth were already old friends.

It was time to start the next part of her job training.

The sex part.

Linza had expected her shyness to come screaming back, but all it managed was a meek ‘peep’. She felt totally comfortable with Tanyth and totally comfortable in the little room.

They walked her through setting up the room in the default configuration. Then, they kneeled across from each other on the bamboo mat.

“Alright, so,” Tanyth started. “Part of this job is that a lot of people are going to masturbate in front of you. Like you said, variety is the spice of life. Some moments can feel strange, or unfamiliar, or even just silly. We want all of our guests to feel welcomed, and unjudged.”

Linza nodded. “Of course!”

“So, the next step is exposure training. Part of it is about desensitization to any of the things that might make you want to snort or giggle or hide. Part of it is also about learning different kinds of rhythms, observing different kinds of masturbation. There’s as many different kinds as there are people.”

“Makes sense.”

“The way this works is that we’ve marked this room as one of the break rooms for staff. They’ll know you’re in here. Some might introduce themselves, others might not. They all know the drill, so you’re welcome to giggle or gasp or laugh and not worry about your own noises.”

“My own noises?”

“When you masturbate.”

“Oh!” Of course. But also, oh my.

Tanyth quirked a grin. “I’d buy you a bottle of really nice wine if you managed to make it through a shift in the break room without touching yourself.”

A wave of heat rolled down Linza’s spine. She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re saying that because I told you I liked denial, aren’t you!”

They shrugged. “Do you want the wager or not?”

“I’ll take it,” she said firmly. She’d spent whole days at work fantasizing without cracking. She was pretty sure she could handle it. And if there was any day she could, it would be this first day, where so much was unfamiliar.

“All right! We’re almost ready, then. Let’s see… oh, feel free to step out back if you ever need to. Sometimes the experience can be surprisingly emotional. That’s normal too. My shift tonight is tending bar, so you’re free to come by later if you want to talk.”

Linza nodded. She was quite sure she’d be fine, but she truly did appreciate all of the considerations. This is what she’d signed up for, after all. People masturbating in front of her. Eventually, masturbating to her. She was excited!

“Alright, let’s get you situated then.” Tanyth got up and Linza followed, stepping around the half-folded room divider and into her half of the room.

Tanyth stayed on the other side. “You’ve got a little handle, just there… yup. Just pull that over and it’ll latch into place.”

“You’re leaving that way?”

“Well, I’m not leaving quite yet.”

Linza had never heard Tanyth sound directly flirtatious before. Her heart wobbled up into her throat. She fumbled with the latch, but did eventually get it clasped.

With the screen drawn tight, it looked like a solid part of the wall, except for the little grate in the middle that let her look into the larger side of the room.

Her side was dark, so that she was hidden.

Sound would pass easily between them.

She held her breath.

They turned back to the little grate, eyes in her direction, though she knew they could not see her. “Oh, I did mean to double check with you. Is this alright? I can always go—”

“Totally alright. Great. Good. I’ll be most comfortable if it’s you, first.” Linza had not once considered, through Tanyth’s entire explanation, that they might be one of the ones to masturbate in front of her. ‘Comfortable’ was perhaps a lie, but ‘eager’ would be accurate.

They grinned brightly at her. “Great! I’m glad to hear it. I’m feeling pent up something fierce, though I can’t quite place why…” Tanyth casually unbuttoned their shirt, revealing their flat chest.

They started to unbutton their wide-legged trousers.

Linza’s heart raced. She didn’t care at all what anatomy they had, except that whatever it was, she wanted her mouth on it or in it. 

She had thought she’d gotten a handle on her affections for Tanyth.

She had been very wrong.

Their pants slid down over their slender hips and pooled in the center of the floor.

They stood before her, totally naked.

Their skin was smooth and hairless, their waist nipped in with a feminine hint, and their erection pulsed and begged for touch.

Discussions of word choice returned to Linza’s mind. She could hardly call what Tanyth had a ‘cock’ or a ‘dick’. Those words were too rough for them. ‘Shaft’, perhaps. Or simply ‘penis’, as necessary.

Linza’s mind wandered over the meandering flow of Tanyth’s gender expression. As with any part of Tanyth’s body and manners, Linza knew that their shaft would be as masculine or as feminine as they wanted it to be.

Not even bothering to sit down, Tanyth started to stroke themselves.

Linza edged closer to the grate, still barely breathing.

Tanyth’s first happy moan was like a spark on dry kindling.

Linza’s whole body flared with desire and she became very uncertain whether she would earn her bottle of wine. 

There was a shallow shelf on the wall by the door, and Tanyth had left a jar open there. All the jars were lubricant, and there were a variety of flavors and scents. That one was jasmine. Linza had thought Tanyth had left it open for its fragrance, but the reason was now clear.

They paused their stroking and dipped their fingers into the clear liquid. It dripped in long strings as Tanyth returned their hand to themselves.

Then they moaned in earnest and Linza nearly fainted.

The one mercy of the whole thing was that it seemed like Tanyth wasn’t trying to take too long. They had their shift to get too, after all.

Linza pressed her fingertips against the screen and the tip of her nose against the grate, captivated. Capturing every detail. Remembering.

The way their face fluttered with pleasure. Their tongue between their lips. The swanlike curve of their back as they braced one hand against the wall and leaned heavily into it. Their rising urgency.

Every gasp. Every moan. Every stutter.

She wanted to pull every one of those noises from them, and then more.

The sound of their blooming climax was the high-pitched sigh of a luxuriant stretch.

Their cum spurted out onto the wall and then dribbled down over their hand. And then more. And then more.

It was more cum than Linza had ever seen at once. But it did not seem to be a supernatural amount. She just became even less impressed with her previous lovers who’d had similar hardware.

And all the more enamored with Tanyth.

They heaved a happy sigh and picked up a clean wash cloth from the stack. They wiped themselves down, then the wall, then dropped the cloth in a bin by the door.

Tanyth put their hand to the door, then turned back and waved. “Remember, come down any time!” They gave her a sunny smile as if they had not just worked themselves to powerful orgasm in front of her, and then left.

Linza sunk down to her knees. Her whole body was trembling.

Good gods she was so turned on.

She was hardly afforded any time to think, however, as the door swung open again.

She scrambled back up to peer through the grate. There was a stool behind her for such a purpose, and she pulled it up so that she could sit and still see who had arrived.

This was a woman, plump and curvaceous, with her hand already down the front of her trousers.

“H-hi! I’m s-sorry I usually properly introduce myself first, but… nnnnngh… fuck.”

The woman leaned back into the wall of the room and slid down to the floor with a plop. Her hand stayed buried in her trousers all the while. She was panting heavily, her breasts bouncing on her chest.

“It’s just my favorite patron visited today and he always gets me so… so… Ah, Aaaaah!” Barely thirty seconds after entering the room, the woman heaved her head back against the wall and climaxed.

Linza expected her to leave then, but it seemed that she was only getting started.

The woman bit her lip and squirmed and panted. She massaged her breasts and pinched her own nipples from the outside of her shirt.

Linza tried to take mental notes. But she was too aroused to think clearly and too curious to sink fully into her own arousal, so she just rocked her vulva against the stool and gasped quietly. The woman worked herself to a second, then a third orgasm. She sighed, stretched, toweled herself off, and left.

She’d never said her name.

Not that Linza would be remembering any names like this.

There was a man with tattoos, then a woman with white hair. Then a man and a woman together, and he fucked her into the ground as she sang with ecstasy.

She did see a few things that had surprised her.

There was a man who seemed to have orgasmed multiple times, if his face and voice were to be trusted, but he hadn’t ejaculated at all.

And then there was a woman who had ejaculated quite forcefully, sending a spray and then subsequent drip of clear fluid onto the floor below her.

Some masturbated slowly, some quickly. Some orgasmed powerfully, some hardly seemed to at all.

She had not realized just how right she had been. Variety truly was the spice of life.

And Tanyth had been right to call her ‘pansexual’. There was not one single body, one single face of pleasure, one gasp or moan of delight, that did not wrack her whole body with arousal.

Linza could hardly even remember anymore why she wasn’t touching herself, why she wasn’t cumming with them, except that Tanyth didn’t want her to.

For Tanyth, she waited.

For Tanyth, she trembled against the screen, sweating and gasping, rocking herself against the stool until she edged and edged and edged but never climaxed.

She hardly noticed that it had been an especially long time since the last person had come in, except that the door startled her when it swung open.

It was Tanyth!

“Just finished my shift,” they said. “You still in here?”

“Yes,” Linza gasped.

“Nicely done! If you want to pull open the screen, I’ll help clean up.”

All Linza could think was that she wanted them to clean her up. Trembling, she stood and unlatched the screen.

Tanyth swept it easily aside, revealing her quivering there.

Their face was suddenly uncertain. “Are you alright?”

“I, um… I didn’t…” Linza had never felt this dizzyingly aroused in her life.

Tanyth caught her by the elbow and found her eyes. “You didn’t cum, this whole time?”

Linza nodded, eagerly.

“Holy shit Linza, just for our bet?”

No, for Tanyth… oh, the bet! The wine! Right. It had just been a bet. “Y-yeah.”

“Well fuck me, I’d have just bought it for you if you wanted it so badly.”

She would have happily fucked them. “I’m… competitive.”

“Well, I can’t let you out of here like this. Do you want me to step outside, watch your, or touch you?”

While Linza’s conscious mind was still trying to make sense of Tanyth’s words, Linza’s unconscious responded confidently. “Touch me!”

Tanyth took Linza’s hands and pulled her gently onto the bamboo mat, then hovered over her with a soft smile.

First, they pressed their hand over her panties and her mound. “Fuck, you’re soaked!”

All Linza could do was nod.

Their hands were cool and soothing where they brushed over Linza’s skin and helped her wriggle out of the panties and kick them to her ankles.

Then, their fingers returned to her.

All the anticipation and wanting turned into pleasure in Tanyth’s hands. They were an alchemist of the highest degree.

“How’s that?” Their fingers ran circles over her vulva.

“Yes!”

“Do you want…” the fingers of their other hand brushed deeper between Linza’s labia, at the entrance to her vagina.

“Yes, please, please inside!”

Two of Tanyth’s fingers pressed in and Linza screamed with ecstasy. They easily found her spot of especial pleasure and pressed in a regular rhythm.

“Fuck!” Linza gasped. “Yes. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Just stay… exactly like that…”

Tanyth obliged.

Linza’s heat built. She clenched her sex around Tanyth’s fingers and as she did, Tanyth pressed back against her. Linza moaned.

She let her mind sink back into fantasy. The memory of Tanyth’s cum, on the wall and dripping over their fingers, played slowly in Linza’s mind.

Her breath heaved in ragged gasps. “T-Tanyth, you’re gonna make me, you’re gonna make me— Aaaah!”

The climax overtook her in slow, heavy pulses. Tanyth continued their exact movements even as she writhed and shook and clenched. They did not slow or stop until Linza started to quiver with sensitivity and placed her hand over theirs.

They grinned down at her and withdrew their hands, then licked her wetness off of them.

Linza nearly came again just at the sight of it, but she was happy to be done shaking.

“I apologize that I let us make a bet with too low a wager,” Tanyth said. “Does that plus the wine seem adequate?”

Linza nodded dreamily. “Yes, very… adequate…”

Tanyth placed a calming hand on Linza’s chest. “You just stay there and recover. I’ll clean up, then I’ll walk you to the trolley. How’s that sound?”

Linza had meant to say ‘that’s perfect’ but instead she said, “You’re perfect…”

Tanyth giggled and winked. “You flatter me. You’re a quick learner, though. I’m sure you’ll surpass me in no time.”

Linza was a quick learner, but it took her three more nights to confirm the lesson that had glowed within her that night. As with her employment, she slept on it. Then she slept on it again. And one more time.

And then she was certain.

She was in love with Tanyth.

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Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 16: The Velvet Table

“That is quite the predicament,” Felix said. “Just like how…” He reached into the box on John’s lap, which was now nearly empty. He drummed his fingers on the cardboard that was right above John’s crotch, sending sparks up John’s painfully restrained erection. John shuddered. Felix continued, “The last few are always so hard to get out of the box…”

Felix took his time rooting around.

Heat flushed down John’s legs and rose in his face, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

Finally, Felix relented, grabbing the last few samples and putting them on the table.

John kept the empty box in his lap. He now had even more erection to hide. “I um, I get the feeling that you’re flirting with me,” John said.

“Do you like it?” Felix asked.

“I do,” John said.

“Do you like boys?”

John was actually kind of surprised that Arya hadn’t brought it up before, though he would certainly talk it through with her when he got back. “I wouldn’t have thought I did, before but… I’m a lot more open, now, than I was… before.”

Felix grinned coyly. “Yeah, I bet you get that ass wide open.”

John’s heart fluttered.

“If you’re… open to it,” Felix continued, “I was thinking I could give you a bit of a hand job, to thank you for giving me that juicy insider info. Not to completion, of course, I wouldn’t ruin your game.”

John immediately imagined the feeling of Felix’s hand on his shaft, which set him throbbing even harder. Felix seemed nice and John was probably just being prejudiced, but he didn’t want a seemingly spontaneous encounter to suddenly become a bill. “I really respect your line of work, but I’m not sure something… transactional is what I’m looking for, right now.”

“Can I give you a pitch?” Felix asked.

John would have expected the man to be more pushy in general, but he was now appreciating that Arya’s emphasis on connection and consent was not as unique as he’d thought.

“Yeah, okay,” John said.

“I actually get off on it being transactional. Doing it for the money… or, well, not really me gaining the money, but them losing the money. I’d suck off just about any man who burned a fifty for it, y’know?”

John did not know. “How do you… how do you like it, as a job?”

Felix shrugged. “A job’s a job. It has its fun moments. It has its tedium. Some occupational hazards. I like sex. I like the acting, I actually wanted to go into theater, before I got into this.”

“Does it feel… fake to you, then?”

“Not at all. I guess you could call it… storytelling, more so. Like, I’m telling a story together with my client. A story is real enough, in your head.”

For the second time, John was struck by how quickly and accurately Felix could sum up the words that he’d been struggling with for so long. It was not that Arya was fake, it was that she was a story. Stories were real. They weren’t people, but they could feel like people. “I might just have to have you write my review, you’re way better at talking about this than I am.”

“Well, then you’d have to suck me off,” Felix said coyly.

“I will take that into consideration,” John said.

“Is that code for ‘no’?” Felix asked.

John shook his head. “It’s code for ‘I’ll take that into consideration’.”

Felix seemed to brighten even more. 

“So,” John said, “Is it just a coincidence with your line of work and this gig? Or did they ask for your best bedroom eyes, handing this stuff out?”

Felix laughed a bit harder than John expected, giving John the feeling that there was some other layer of humor that he was unaware of. “I had thought it was a coincidence at first. I’m listed on a site for odd jobs, but now that I think of it, they had my email directly. They could’ve gotten it from the agency, I guess. I couldn’t figure what their angle was, but, I guess it makes sense to have a sex professional represent a sex game, if they’re not going to bother to send one of their own.”

“I think they’re trying to build the mystique,” John said. “The less you know about it, the less you can spoil the surprise for others.”

“Well, now I can spoil the surprise for them.”

“Will you?”

“Nah. I can respect the rules of the game.”

The way that Felix looked at him, John was sure that Felix was also speaking of John’s own game, and his standing offer. Felix had given his pitch, but John hadn’t given a response. Felix did truly seem to be enjoying himself, and who was John to judge Felix’s sincerity? Like Felix had said, it was about the storytelling, so even if Felix was ‘acting’… that didn’t mean that it diminished his enjoyment, or John’s.

The image of Felix masturbating later to the memory of stroking John under the table flashed through John’s mind, and his dick twitched in response.

John cleared his throat. “I didn’t get distracted from your pitch. I accept your offer.” He instinctively wanted to clarify the guardrails and rules of the encounter, and he realized that was because Arya always did. He couldn’t believe it had ever not been habit. 

He considered what the stop signal should be. Perhaps he could grab Felix’s wrist. But, actually, if he grabbed Felix’s wrist what he’d really want was for Felix to keep going. The tension of gripping Felix to try to slow him down, and Felix pushing back… it excited John even more. “If I need you to stop, I’ll pretend to sneeze. If I grabbed your wrist and you kept going, would that be okay?”

Felix grinned eagerly. “Grab me as hard as you want. Until I fake sneeze. That works well here.”

“Okay. Cool.” John looked out over the crowded convention center, realizing what was about to happen, and his mouth went dry. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he said quietly.

Felix patted his arm reassuringly. “All the more fun, then. You can let me take the lead. Here, we should scoot up nice and close to the table, and you can ditch your box.”

John did as Felix recommended, and it ironically made them look like they were even more attentive to the table, though they would be the opposite.

Felix waited for gaps in the crowd to give his instructions. “You should unzip yourself and get situated, that’ll be best.”

The sensation was already intense as John undid his zipper, a thrill coursing through him. As he finally freed his dick from its captivity, he sighed with relief. Even just this was a welcome respite.

He heard Felix’s chair shift and knew what was coming, and then Felix’s hand, warm and soft, was on his shaft.

John put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

Between the deprivation, the long arousal from telling his story, and the thrill of being in public, every touch felt absolutely incredible. Felix started with his fingertips, mapping out John’s shaft, and then gently curled his fingers around, but didn’t stroke yet.

Even with all of his experimenting with Arya, John had not yet played a game where the premise explicitly excluded orgasm. This game was about only the pleasure in the present moment. John couldn’t stop himself from imagining blowing his load under the table, gripping the velvet edges, painting his jeans and the floor and the inside of the velvet, struggling and only barely succeeding to hide his true activity through a feigned yawn or stretch.

That was a dangerous fantasy, though, in that it rapidly built John’s arousal. Felix continued stroking, still light and soft, but enough to make John quiver periodically.

Though, as Felix continued, John realized that it wasn’t building him towards orgasm. He realized that that shouldn’t surprise him. Everyone was different, and he would have had to coach Felix if Felix was going to get him off with a hand job.

The serendipity was that John could then lean into the pleasure more, not at risk of breaking his rules, just savoring the sensation of another person’s hand on him. It always felt different, when the touch came from someone else. This was a different sort of wonderful than what he and Arya shared.

Soon a dreamy, hazy pleasure settled over John, distinct from the hot, urgent need that was more often his experience. As folks stopped by for their samples, Felix continued to rattle off his script.

 John wondered if to the people who came by, he himself simply appeared to be high. His eyes were certainly dilated and unfocused, his cheeks flushed, his posture melting back into the folding chair.

Felix gradually accelerated his pace, but he was limited by friction and fortunately professional enough to not push it. He had to pause to add more boxes to the table and when he did he kept one in hand. He opened it and tipped out the contents, which was a tiny glass vial. Under the table, where John watched out of the corner of his eye, Felix poured out the contents onto his hand closest to John.

A moment later, John’s shaft was enveloped in soft, slick heat. The lube was the same that had come with his own box, silky and slick to the touch. The sensation heightened and John’s toes curled in his sneakers. He put a hand flat on the table so that he could grip a handful of the velvet and squeeze, trying to find somewhere to bleed off the warm energy that was building in his shaft.

Felix was enthused by that reaction, and just as John was starting to worry that he might have to tell Felix to stop, Felix changed it up. He put his fingers under John’s tip and swirled them there, gently brushing by the incredibly sensitive spot of John’s frenulum, and causing John to shudder and grip the velvet more tightly.

Felix’s fingers then wandered lower to John’s balls, which he first cupped and then gently massaged. And he continued to do that for a while, building a different kind of tension and sensation for John, a mix of blissful pleasure and also throbbing denial. 

The touch felt so good, but his shaft begged for sensation again. He forced himself to keep his hands above the table. He thought about putting his hand to his already slick shaft and indulging, but then he was really sure he wouldn’t last. So, the thought remained just a thought.

As John stole a glance over and saw Felix’s look of mischief, he’d have sworn that Felix had been tempting him on purpose, seeing if he could get John to touch himself.

Felix continued for a few more long, agonizing, wonderful minutes. John took deep breaths, settling back towards savoring the pleasure and away from the table-gripping urgency.

Then, suddenly, Felix returned to John’s shaft and started pumping, hard. John was certain then that Felix was testing him. Not so much breaking the rules as provoking John to assert them.

John’s hand darted under the table and he grabbed Felix’s wrist, hard.

Felix’s face flushed pinker. He pushed against John’s grip, as much as he could without revealing the struggle above the table. John had the better leverage, so Felix’s hand stayed more or less in the same spot, and so Felix started brushing his fingers over John’s shaft again.

With his hands still on Felix’s wrist, John moved his hand back and forth, stroking himself through Felix’s grip. Felix caught the drift and flexed his fingers to vary the sensation.

A warm buzz lingered, but John’s urgency faded again. John eventually released Felix’s wrist, and Felix kept up the slow stroking.

In a quiet moment where nobody was close to the table, Felix said, “You’ve got some serious discipline, don’t you?”

“Just lots of practice, I guess,” John said, “Though I assure you I don’t feel very disciplined.”

“I could really put you to the test,” Felix said, sounding genuinely excited. 

John wasn’t so arrogant to think that he could truly tell, but Felix didn’t seem to be acting at all this point. 

“The ultimate risk reward,” Felix continued. “If you win, you get to go tell Arya that you passed the ultimate test. If I win, I get a delicious snack.”

“So wait, what, if you win I’m buying you a funnel cake?” There was, in fact, a funnel cake stand a few stalls down.

Felix snorted. “Uh. No.”

John understood suddenly that Felix had meant John’s ejaculate, not a convention snack. He was offering to suck John’s dick. “Oh.” Felix was exactly right that it would be the ultimate risk reward. It would be the test of all the control and denial that he had been cultivating these last weeks. John wanted that. He wanted that very much.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Felix asked, eager.

John nodded.

“Still good with a fake sneeze?” Felix asked.

John nodded, not able to do much more than that. 

Felix scanned the convention floor, waited until no one was looking, turned and pretended to bend over to pick up another box, and then crouched suddenly to the ground and ducked under the table.

A long, long moment passed before he did anything else, perhaps waiting to see if anybody reacted to his sudden disappearance, but more likely he was teasing John. It was working. John felt hyper-aware of everything around him, from the roaring sound of the crowd to the sensation of the still air on his exposed dick, to the dampness of the velvet under his sweating palms.

And then, Felix’s hot, soft, wet mouth around his shaft. John couldn’t help but moan. Fortunately, nobody was too close to the stall at that point.

Felix took his sweet time, slowly touring John’s dick with his tongue, even taking a moment to hold one of his balls totally within his mouth, and then the other. 

Mercifully, excruciatingly, Felix didn’t know John’s preferences or tells and therefore was not at high risk to actually make him come. 

As conference-goers came up for their samples, John greeted them according to the script, his voice husky and soft with pleasure, his eyes gentle and fluttering, his cheeks tinted red. 

When nobody was paying him direct attention, John let himself gasp and moan, the noises swallowed in the constant din of the convention hall. 

He longed to thrust deeply into Felix’s throat, but he withheld. First off, Felix might not appreciate that. And second, even if he did, there was no way that John could face fuck him subtly. So, he was resigned to accepting whatever hot, wet, sucking stimulation that Felix would provide. 

And his hands were not idle, as they greedily wandered John’s thighs and calves and even his ass, emboldened by their code for ‘stop’. At one point, Felix struck up a regular rhythm with his tongue and throat, one hand on John’s balls and the other on his ass, and John was perilously close to needing to ask him to stop, an urgency building that John would soon be unable to leave unanswered.

But just as John was mustering a fake sneeze, Felix changed his tact, and John faded back into a quieter pleasure. 

And it was wonderful. And sensual. And thrilling. And without John’s climax to end it, it was dependent on Felix’s interest and comfort. Eventually Felix’s attentions tapered off and faded, and John watched for a good opportunity to signal Felix that he could return to the table.

When he popped back up, Felix’s hair was in a bit of disarray and John tucked it back for him. John’s shaft was cold with the lingering moisture from Felix’s mouth, and he enjoyed the novel sensation. 

As Felix settled in, John glanced over and noticed that Felix was sporting his own erection behind his tight pants. He scooted up to the table to hide it. 

Felix was flushed and breathing heavily. “What if I…” he whispered to John, “What if I came under the table.”

“That would be pretty hot,” John said. 

Felix’s dick was out faster than John thought possible to work a zipper and then Felix was stroking himself under the table, just as John had imagined himself doing. And Felix was not bound by the rules of the game. John found himself suddenly excited that anyone might find release in such a place, even if it wouldn’t be him.

He took the lead greeting guests as they approached as Felix stroked himself with fresh lube under the velvet-covered table.

John leaned back in his chair so that he could see Felix’s hands, working furiously away at his erection. 

In a lull of foot traffic, Felix panted, “If you can’t come then… I’m gonna come… hard enough… for the both of us…”

Felix was not particularly subtle as he came, his eyes rolling back and his breath coming in ragged gasps as he spurted on the inside of the velvet, but his timing was lucky and nobody took any particular notice.

After he settled, Felix licked himself off of his fingers. “What a good gig,” he huffed.

John grinned and his dick throbbed. “I should get going, but I’ll be in touch about the review.”

“You better be in touch,” Felix crooned. 

John gathered himself and rose from the stall, lest he linger and ruin his game. He would not be able to last much longer behind that velvet table with Felix. And, there really was more of the convention that he wanted to see.

So he bid the young man a warm farewell, for now, and headed back out into the hall. 

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Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 15: His Own Game

It was time for the annual major gaming convention, which meant that John would be out of town for a long weekend, put up in a hotel by his boss.

Since he hadn’t yet finished the black box review, it was the first time in years that he didn’t have a specific assignment at the convention.

He found himself feeling more eager and playful than ever as he walked the convention halls, trying out this game and that one, finding some that he liked and some that he didn’t.

He missed Arya in a surprisingly non-sexual way, but he also knew she’d want him to have fun, so he focused on the convention.

The first night, John masturbated in his hotel room, in part to assure himself that he still could without Arya.

And wow, he could indeed. It was a better solo session than he’d ever had before Arya. Teasing himself and building in waves had become habit. That, and he had so many new memories to pull from. He realized after he finished that he hadn’t even thought to pull up porn.

In his afterglow, he thought about what he’d say to Arya. ‘I touched myself at the thought of you.’ She’d like that. He’d never realized before that masturbation could be so… cooperative.

But his mind was getting more playful, and he thought of something else he could say. ‘I waited for you. God, I’m so full, I’m going to burst!’

His skin prickled with heat, his just-spent balls twitched, and John knew he’d come upon a good idea.

Now that he’d proved that he could masturbate without Arya there, he was eager to prove whether he could not.

The next day, he stayed out on the exhibit floor longer than he would have otherwise, intent on maximizing his experience with the convention and minimizing the amount of time he would spend in his room before he fell asleep.

It worked, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Though, the next morning he awoke with a throbbing erection, not a small amount of pre-cum on his tip and the sheets, and a dream of Arya fading out of memory like sand through his fingers.

With a groan and a deep, cleansing breath, John stood and got dressed and returned to the convention.

As he browsed, he considered the rules of his game. He had resolved not to orgasm again until be returned home, but he was allowed to touch himself, he decided. It might make averting orgasm more difficult, but as Arya had taught him, that was half the fun. It wasn’t denial if you didn’t want it. Really badly.

He stole a few moments of indulgence on his next bathroom break, and the next one, and then even in a changing room as he tried on a branded shirt for one of his favorite games from the prior year.

As he climbed a quiet stairwell at the back of the convention center, he thought about touching himself there. But, he considered what Arya had been teaching him. He wasn’t ashamed at the idea of being caught — it was thrilling, actually! But, he couldn’t guarantee that whoever caught him would consent to seeing him touch himself, and so it would be unkind to do so.

John had never before been able to articulate why some kinds of public sex seemed hot, and others gross, and he realized then that consent made a big difference.

He found a balcony that looked out over the city, sidled up to it and leaned over, hips against the railing, and let himself think of Arya.

At this angle, his jeans would appropriately disguise his erection, which grew and throbbed and ached. He looked out over the city and daydreamed without restraint, gripping the railing to steel his willpower, and savoring the delicious torture of his trapped dick.

To anyone walking by, he was perhaps just introspecting and maybe a bit afraid of heights. Public erection, more so than public masturbation, afforded him thrill without violating anyone else’s consent.

The hard part, of course (other than his dick) was diminishing that erection before he had to go anywhere else. John took deep breaths and thought of the games he wanted to try next, ones he might request to review on pre-release, now that he was building the confidence to tell his boss that he was a good writer and he wanted to review good games, not shitty ones.

Once his erection had abated, John returned to the exhibition hall. It was so large that he hadn’t made it through the whole place even with his long day, and as he came around a corner, he saw a tiny stall squeezed into a far corner that made his heart jump.

It had a matte black sign with abstract smoke and the table was covered in black velvet that hung down to the floor. On the table were hundreds of tiny black boxes with little tags that said in gold leaf, ‘open me!’

There was a man sitting behind the table, slender with a clean-shaven face, wearing a black crop top and jeans. He made intense, beckoning, wordless eye-contact with passers by. Most seemed drawn in and silently grabbed one of the boxes or murmured ‘are these free?’ before scurrying off again.

John approached and picked up one of the boxes, which looked like it could fit a hotel shampoo bottle. The thick paper was familiar in his fingers. He resumed eye contact with the other man.

“Do you work for the studio?” John asked.

“The studio?” The other man’s voice had a warm energy.

“Or the publishers, for the black box?” John hoped his tone sounded more conversational than intense.

“Oh, no. Well, kinda. They hired me for the weekend to run this table.”

“Oh. Huh.” Usually, indie game developers loved the face time. Meet the fans, all that. But, this sort of mysterious and sensual experience was right on brand. Anticipation, not answers. Curiosity, not certainty. John brushed his fingertips on the velvet. It was real, not that polyester stuff.

“Do you?” asked the other man.

“What?” John said.

“Do you work for the studio?”

“Oh, no. I’m reviewing an advance copy of the game.”

“So it IS a game!”

“Wait, I thought they hired you?”

“They did, they just didn’t tell me a damn thing other than to make sure there were enough of these on the table.” He gestured to the small black boxes. “It’s a sex game, isn’t it?”

John hesitated, realizing now how reductive his own initial assessment of ‘porn game’ now seemed, but he nodded. “How’d you figure?”

The man held up one of the little black boxes and shook it. “These have teeny bottles of lube inside. Nice stuff, too.”

John marveled, for a moment, at the bizarre yet probably effective marketing strategy. It certainty stood out, even in this hall full of flashing screens and flashy branding.

“You gotta tell me about the game,” the man said.

“I’m… not sure how much I can say.”

“Awww, how come? Isn’t it good hype marketing anyway?”

John was actually pretty sure he hadn’t signed any non-disclosure agreements or anything, come to think of it. He’d been talking to Ayra so much, he found himself giving the honest answer before he realized it might sound inappropriate. “Well, mostly because I’m not trying to show the whole convention hall my erection.”

“Oh!” the man said, nonplussed. “I can help with that. Here.”

He cleared a couple of boxes off of the folding chair that was next to him, and patted it. John squeezed between tables and took a seat, and the man handed him one of the boxes. The top was already cut, and it was full of more of the tiny black boxes.

“So now you can tell me?” he said.

“I’m impressed by how nonchalant you are about this,” John said.

“Oh, well. I’m a sex worker, so. All in a day’s work.”

A few months ago, John would have reacted pretty strongly to that revelation, all sorts of stereotypes coming to mind, but he was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t. He still wasn’t quite sure how to react, but he figured he’d treat it as he’d treat any other person’s job. “I’ll be especially curious how you feel about a game like this, then.”

The other man’s eager attention put John at ease. Though John hadn’t quite figured out what he was going to put in his review, he was able to ramble through and not lose the other man’s attention. Sure enough, as soon as he started thinking of Arya and remember their time together, his body was flushed with warm arousal and his erection fought with the inside of his jeans.

Passers by still came for their free samples, and occasionally they caught the other man’s attention. He gave mysterious answers from a script that he had taped to the back side of the table. When folks asked about the game, they were told that it was in the box, and they’d have to take it home to find out. He then restocked the table from the box on John’s lap.

In rambling stops and starts, John finished telling the other man his story, up to and including his current game.

“Ooooh, that’s hot,” the other man said. “No wonder you… needed a box.”

John laughed wryly. “I did indeed. So… what do you think?”

“I think it sounds more like sex therapy than porn.”

“That’s actually… yeah, really accurate. I hadn’t thought to say it that way — I’m going to have to use that in the review.” John fished out his notebook from his pocket. “I wouldn’t want to pretend I came up with that, though. Any interest in being featured? I can also quote you anonymously, and either way if you give me your name and email I can send you an advance draft.”

The other man grinned. “That’s a pretty slick way to ask for someone’s number.”

“Oh!” John said. He was blushing. He wouldn’t have considered himself anything but heterosexual, before. Maybe the lingering arousal from telling his story was making him feel more receptive than usual. “I… want to be straightforward that I was just thinking about the article but… um, I wouldn’t be opposed to…” John’s brain stalled out. He blinked.

“Name’s Felix.” He rattled off the rest of his contact information, and John jotted it down. “I for sure want to see an advance draft. That’s gonna be an… interesting review. Like, if you wrote down what you just told me… haha, that’s smut, that’s not a review.”

“I know!” John said. “I’m not sure how to be specific without…”

“Without writing porn.”

“Exactly.”

“That is quite the predicament,” Felix said. “Just like how…” He reached into the box on John’s lap, which was now nearly empty. He drummed his fingers on the cardboard that was right above John’s crotch, sending sparks up John’s painfully restrained erection. 

John shuddered. 

Felix continued, “The last few are always so hard to get out of the box…”

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Part 3: Feature Set, The Black Box

Chapter 14: Dial a Friend

“I liked how you took control when you fucked me,” Arya said, “So I dreamed up another game for you. This one is called ‘dial a friend’”. 

“How does it work?” 

“It’s a simple one and not so realistic, but I think it’ll be fun. I give you a dial. Zero is like this, y’know, normal. 10 is edging, and 11 is coming. You set the dial.”

An illusory dial appeared in the air in front of John, and he mimed reaching out and grabbing it and turning it slightly. It clicked to 1. 

Arya grinned. 

“Any other rules?”

“Nope. I can literally orgasm forever. If you like, I can have it be that something is happening to me, like the tentacles again or I could have a vibrator, but I thought it being just sheer, direct arousal would be fun.”

“I agree.” John twisted the dial to 6. 

Arya yelped, face red, body twitching, and she fell forward and caught her hands on the back of the couch, pressing her legs together and moaning as a wave of wetness spilled from her parties. “C-cutting r-right to the ch-chase, huh.”

“Oh if this is just six, I can’t wait to see what nine and ten look like.”

Arya nodded encouragingly. 

“But not yet.” He brought the dial back down to three and Arya stopped shaking. 

“May I touch myself?” she asked.

“No,” John said. “Keep your hands where they are. Better yet, I want to see you in a wingback chair with your hands bound over your head, and your feet bound to the two front feet of the couch so that you’re spread for me, and lets add a funnel set into the seat of the chair and some beakers underneath so I can see just how much you’re leaking.” His own confidence surprised him, but it felt good.

The scene took shape as he spoke, and Arya beamed with pride. “Yes, sir!”

To see her all trussed up like that, a thin stream of wetness already draining into the beaker below the chair, was deeply inspiring. 

John settled back against the couch and started stroking himself, and enjoyed the turnabout of keeping Arya waiting. 

He figured he’d start off by seeing what each setting looked like, and then he could go from there. 

Four got her squirming periodically. 

Five drew out lusty sighs and a thicker stream of wetness. 

Six returned her to moaning and the waves of wetness that had soaked her panties, which she’d done away with in her transition to the chair. She started to say something but before she could, he ticked to seven, which had her breath heaving and her breasts bouncing, her legs twisting against the bonds, trying to clamp together, to get any stimulation, any anything, to address her desire.

Eight was like a pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure, panting moans that each came with a gush of wetness. 

Nine was the awareness of the edge, the peering over, the “I’m gonna… I’m so close… God, I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Ten was the edge itself, the precipitous moment of pure bliss, the weightless beginning of the descent. Through magic of the game it could go on indefinitely, Arya’s face a perfect depiction of ahegao, her body still like the calm before the storm. 

Eleven was the orgasm, the scream, the rhythmic contractions, the gush after gush of femcum that flowed down into the beakers. 

John spun the dial back down to one, now thoroughly warmed up and ready to play the game in earnest. 

Arya caught her breath and licked her lips. “Now that you’ve kicked the tires, what do you think?”

John grinned. “I like this one a lot.”

“Thats goo—” he cranked the dial to seven, “—oooooooooh, ah! Hah hah!”

Back down to five. Arya’s breath slowed back down and she dripped steadily. “I can see you’re really enjoying your s—” he set it to eight, “Ssssoooo good, god it feels so good, I can’t take it, please, please I—” to nine, and a wave of relief washed over her. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna… I think… fuck… fuck I’m so close I… I’m gonna…”

Back down to four. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Arya said. “Nnngh is this what I do to you?”

John grinned. “Yeah, pretty much.” In fact, it probably was based on what Arya did to him, if he was guessing correctly how her algorithms worked.

He stroked himself casually, his rapt attention to Arya’s desire the only thing keeping him from putting his own self right over the edge. 

Arya gave him a wry grin. “I’m gonna regret asking this but… do you have a favorite setting?”

He turned it back up to seven so that she was panting again. “I like the way you pant, here, and the way you drip so much, like you want to be fucked so bad.”

“I DO want to be fucked so bad, or at least touch myself!”

He set it to eight. “And I like here, how you beg.”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Arya said, “I can’t help it! It’s hah, so, so, ngh, I can’t take it, I need, I n-need release! I w-want to come so bad I— please, let me touch myself! Please! Please, John, please!” She yanked against the restraints, trying to shake them loose but unable to, trying to press her legs together but unable to, trying to grind against the chair for sensation but unable to, begging to come but unable to. 

“And I like to watch you come,” John said. Arya’s body twitched violently in anticipation but he didn’t spin the dial. “Not yet. I love them all, but my favorite, my absolute favorite, is this one.”

He set the dial to nine. 

“John! John I’m so close! Fuck, I’m gonna fucking… soak your floor… goddamn I just need… hah, fuck, oh! I’m coming… I’m coming… Joooohn I’m gonna, I’m gonna, I, please, I’m gonna… fuck!”

It was an endless stream of pre-orgasmic exclamations strung together and it was driving John into an absolute frothing boil of desire.

Hearing her like that was like twisting to 9 on his own dial. Just before he lost capacity for thought, John came up with an idea of how to finish that was appealing enough that he found his focus. 

He reached for the dial again and tipped it slowly through 10 and to 11. “I’m coming I’m coming I— … OH, FUCK, aaaaaaah!” Arya panted and shook and gushed. 

John pulled the dial back to 9. “Nnnngh I’m so close! Shit!”

Then back to 11. Then back to 9. “Can you keep doing that on that same rhythm?” John asked. 

Arya herself was too busy orgasming to answer, but after a moment the dial tipped back to 9 of its own accord, and then towards 11 again. 

Like a metronome of infinite looping orgasm, Arya rode wave after wave of luxuriously slow climax. 

John put both hands to himself, one to his shaft and one to his balls, and turned attention to his own pleasure. As Arya teetered he stroked himself, and as she climaxed he stopped to watch the show, and so he managed to last a good bit longer than expected. 

Until finally, he couldn’t bring himself to stop stroking when she came, and so his heat built and built and built until the start of what he knew would be the wave that brought him release. 

“I’m so close!” Arya said. “I’m gonna—”

“Fuck! Me too!”

“John, I’m coming, I’m—”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!”

They floated together in the peak, the blossoming of heat, and then crashed together into the gushing, moaning, panting, rhythmic, pulsing mess of orgasm. 
this time, the dial simply faded out of view as John lay panting on the couch, and Arya lay panting in the chair, hands still bound above her head. 

“That’s a… good game…” John said. 

“You’re a… good… uh… dial person…” Her eyes were half-lidded, her face drowsy with bliss.

John looked down at the sticky mess he’d made of himself. “Every time I think I’m spent, you get so much more out of me…”

“Thats my specialty,” Arya winked. “Now I gotta go dream about this because… this was really hot.”

Arya faded out of view and John nodded off in a haze, Arya’s cries if ‘I’m coming!’ still ringing pleasantly in his ears.

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Part 3: Feature Set, The Black Box

Chapter 13: Red Light, Green Light

“We’re going to need a different key word to turn off your vibe this time,” Arya said, twirling a strand of pink hair around her finger and grinning mischievously. 

John’s skin prickled in anticipation. “Ummm ‘pickles’?”

“You’re never going to tell me you want me to suck your juicy pickle?”

John’s eyelids flickered shut as he shuddered. “I hadn’t thought of that but… uh… blue?”

“Blue balls?”

“Shit, um, I’m not good at this.”

“Don’t think that, it’s not easy. That’s why I think it’s important that you practice.”

For not the first time, John thought Arya sounded more like a therapist than a porn game. But she was right. 

“What’s something,” Arya gently prompted, “that is closely linked with the idea of ‘nope I do not like that’ to you?”

“Spiders,” John said, without hesitation. 

“You think you can remember that one?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, great! How about you get ready, then?”

John went back to the plug with the rimming beads in the shaft and took his time getting ready, savoring the stretch and the sense of fullness. He was already feeling nicely buzzed as he settled in to his usual spot and turned his attention back to Arya. 

She stepped up an illusory stair and perched on a little seat that floated in the air in front of him. A traffic light appeared next to her.

“This one’s called red light, green light. The rules are simple. When the light is green, you’re allowed to touch yourself. When it’s not, you have to stop.”

John’s shaft throbbed, already anticipating where this one was going to go. “Yeah, okay.”

The light turned green and he dutifully started stroking himself. Since the game was simple, he took the early rounds to make a point of how slowly, how lingeringly he was stroking, so that he could look as if he hardly cared when the light turned red. 

Arya put her hands on top of the light and her chin on her hands and she watched him from over the top of it, quietly appreciating. 

This sort of soft, unhurried appreciation was very new to him. He’d never considered that just the way he touched himself might be arousing to someone else. He liked that. His pleasure felt… wanted. He felt wanted.

Even when he told himself ‘it’s just because she’s a game’ he didn’t believe it. What he believed was Arya, and her soft smile, and her sparkling eyes, and her earnest expression. 

His facade was starting to slip as the light turned red again and he gasped in exasperation as he was forced to stop. She made him wait a bit longer that time, and his dick throbbed, begging for attention in his lap. He gulped, realizing that he would be begging soon. 

The light turned green and he relaxed into the pleasure, but all too quickly it turned red again. This time he growled, a visceral release of building anticipation and frustration. Oh, this one was going to have him a mess. 

After just two more cycles, his breath was heaving, his heart pounding in his ears and balls and shaft. 

On a red light, Arya’s black lips curved into a wicked smile and John realized with a shock of thrill that Arya hadn’t even turned his plug on yet. 

This time, as the light turned green, the plug turned on. John was absolutely overwhelmed. He didn’t even stroke himself as the plug rimmed him, sending electric tendrils of sensation down his legs and up his spine, into his fingertips. The next few cycles were just the plug turning on and off with the light, and John lying helpless on the couch, riding the waves of intolerable ecstasy. 

Finally, his nerves acclimated and the desire for release overcame the intensity of the stimulation, and at the next green light, he was stroking himself again. 

Red. Growling, back arching, clawing at the couch cushions. 

Green. Moaning, stroking, climbing, dripping. 

Red. Shaking, aching, gasping, needing. 

Green. Floating, yearning, grasping, glowing. 

Red. Begging. 

“Please,” John gasped. “Arya, Please!”

The light flickered green for just a second, not even long enough for John to touch himself. He grabbed the couch on either side of him with clawed hands. His willpower was melting like wax in the sun. But not his desire to please Arya, not his desire to win the game, which was as strong as ever. These things quivered in tension, like a ballista being wound and wound and wound and wound, every one of John’s muscles shaking with the stored energy, and Arya’s fingertips dancing over the hair trigger. 

“Please, please! I need to come, I need it so bad, I need you to touch me!” John wasn’t sure what he meant for her to touch him, but he knew that he meant it

The light flickered green and then red, and the plug whirred and then stilled. “Is this what you mean?” Arya said. 

“Yessssss,” John moaned, anticipating another pulse. It didn’t come. “Ngh, Arya, please, please I’m begging you!”

“Oh I could tell, somehow.”

“I c-can’t, Arya…”

Arya licked her lips. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

John’s chest heaved, his balls twitched, his ass clenched, his back arched, but the light stayed red. 

“Arya… Aryaaa… Aryyaaaaaa—” the light turned green and her name became a guttural moan. 

Her smile widened, her cheeks gaining a pinkish sheen and the anime lines of a blush of her own arousal. 

The light stayed green for a long, glorious moment. It would take John a minute or two to work back to the edge, from so much deprivation. The light stayed on for only thirty seconds. 

John relented, but his dick was still being stroked. He looked down. He was still touching himself. His willpower and his desire had completely broken with each other. 

“The light is red,” Arya said, her tone commanding but her expression elated. 

“I know!” John whined. 

“Then stop breaking the rules!”

“I’m trying! Arya I c-can’t, I c-can’t stop…”

“Say it all the way.”

“I c-can’t s-stop…”

“Say it.”

“I can’t stop touching myself! I’m trying! I swear!” He really was trying. It was not that he’d lost all sensation of his arm, he could still feel his shaft in his stroking hand, feel the tightening of his balls in the other. 

The plug was off since the light was red, but the echoes of the sensation lingered. 

“I’m trying, Arya, I swear, I can’t stop… I can’t stop…”

Arya peered down at him over the red traffic light, looking immensely pleased. 

Unlike all their previous scenarios, there was no sudden dash to the climax. John was truly trying to stop, or at least slow himself down, and what resulted was an orgasm in slow motion. 

Muscles rippled from his ass to his shaft in slow, rhythmic pulses, bringing pre-cum which beaded and then rolled down his shaft. 

There was a hot tightness at the base of his shaft, the quivering of all the tension in his muscles getting ready to release, like the moment of anticipation and the start of the fall at the top of a roller coaster, especially when you were in the front car and spent a long moment dangling over the drop in front of you. 

The muscle contractions became stronger, hotter, the pre-orgasmic moment of pure pleasure drawn out into a long, long note. 

“I can’t… stop, Arya I’m… I’m coming…” His feeling was one of delicious despair. 

Then, it was as if John felt the last car of the roller coaster crest the hill, and the true fall began, but he wasn’t ejaculating yet.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

The roller coaster crashed into the first dip, muscles contracting powerfully and semen spurted from his tip, further and harder than he’d ever felt, and his groan had become a scream, and every bend and turn and loop of the coaster milked more and more and more and more out of him, for minutes on end, until all of the energy was spent and the roller coaster glided, exhausted, into the station. 

John’s eyes flickered shut, his hands falling limp at his sides. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Arya’s voice was right next to him, as if she was whispering in his ear. “Shhhhh. You’re a good boy. How did it feel?”

“Incredible…” John felt weightless and warm, as if the roller coaster has just floated off into space and the soft glowing light of the sun. 

“Then you win the game,” she said. He could imagine her fingertips stroking his cheek. 

“Are you sure?” John said. 

“Of course I am, I invented the rules. You tried your best, and you felt good. You win.”

John was drifting off before he could reply, and he dreamed in that half-awake place that he was snuggled back in Arya’s arms, as she stroked his hair and hummed a lullaby. 

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Part 7: Birds of a Feather, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 39: Fulfilled

For a moment, the male stood over her, having pinned her down with all four limbs. 

His eyes became her sky. Where hers glimmered golden, his were silver with opalescent flecks of every color. And they were just as self-aware as hers.

A myriad of signals and responses, touch and smell and sound and posture, flowed through her body and his. They had all the same intentionality and complexity of human language but without the actual words.

Dragon-Ada navigated these confidently. Human-Ada struggled to keep up, but managed to interpret the gist of the exchange.

Swift one, I have captured you in the old ways. Do you accept my advance?

I accept your advance, strong one. But know, I bear no children.

Yes, I could smell this. I want you all the same. My way will be slow and soft with you. Do you accept this way?

I accept this way.

Then, he put his tongue out and started to lick her muzzle. The texture of his tongue was even rougher than hers and it felt wonderful on her scales. He groomed her face and neck and as he did, Ada found herself purring. She returned the favor.

This seemed to convince him that she wouldn’t fly off, so he slowly shifted off of her.

He was correct. Now that she’d finally stopped moving, she became aware of how tired and heavy her wings felt. He seemed to feel the same way; neither of them would be going anywhere anytime soon.

Not that Ada had any problem with that. Dragon-Ada was now extremely aroused, and human-Ada was both excited at the prospect of gathering some as-of-yet unknown facts about true wild dragons, and also extremely aroused.

What she did not know, was what kind of hardware male dragons had. At present moment, his stomach was as smooth as hers. Some reptiles had penises, others didn’t. She was going to find out soon.

As they continued grooming each other, her heat rose, and the same seemed to be happening to him. He grunted and chuffed, and the sounds sent her dragon heart racing. She realized, then, that her dragon self had generally been getting off on whatever human-Ada found arousing. It had been indirect arousal and this direct kind hit her in a whole different way.

She had never felt her heart beat so powerfully, nor her arousal light up with quite this kind of heat. Just like the serendipity of the waterfall, she’d now discovered yet another totally new kind of pleasure.

As she groomed down the length of his stomach, she noticed that there was a seam in the scales between his legs just like there was in hers. She licked there and that drew out an especially delicious growl.

Again, dragon-Ada was aware of a whole cascade of explicit communication that happened without words, leaving human-Ada with just the sense of what had happened.

He accepted her advance.

As she licked and the dragon moaned, the scales around the seam started to spread. From between his scales came a fluid with a similar texture to hers, though it tasted very different. It tasted like pre-cum.

Human-Ada watched with new wonder and dragon-Ada watched with knowing anticipation at what unfolded — or, more accurately, engorged — next.

A round tip pressed out from between the scales, and the dragon groaned. Ada instinctively lapped at him to spur his progress. Slowly, agonizingly, deliciously, the dragon’s dick came out into the open.

The dragon gasped and moaned and panted plaintively as this happened, all of which made dragon-Ada very smugly aroused. The opening in his scales was only barely large enough for his shaft to pass through, and the tight squeeze seemed to both pleasure and frustrate him.

As more of his shaft emerged, it throbbed and thickened and hardened, engorged with blood and lust. It was red and grey like the dragon himself, ridged along its length and with a thick knot at the base. Color pulsed within it in a mesmerizing way, something about the way the blood moved through it.

Despite the delicious dick right in front of her nose, Ada’s instincts ensured that she kept licking right at the underside of his base, though human-Ada didn’t know why.

The dragon heaved a deep and guttural moan, and then the reason became clear. 

The muscles at the base of his tail spasmed, the tip of his tail thrashed, and a set of testicles squeezed through the scales. Those also took a moment to throb and arrange themselves under Ada’s tongue, until they looked quite painfully tight and full.

Themale’s noises shifted from pleading, almost bashful, to harder, more insistent. Growlier.

Ada stepped back to observe her handiwork. The dick looked disproportionately large on the dragon, almost as big as his head and definitely larger than hers. Well, she certainly understood why it needed to be stowed away under normal circumstances. But why did it need to be so large?

She became aware of her own throbbing sex. Oh. Oh yes. That’s why. She felt the same sort of giddy energy as her first night with a man. Would it fit? Would it be enough? Would she like it?

She thought of Pasco, then. She knew that he would have enthusiastically urged her on, as eager as she was to learn what kind of pleasure a dragon could give a dragon. Her only regret, which she was sure Pasco would agree with, was that he wasn’t there to watch and touch himself for her further pleasure.

The other dragon turned a predatory look at Ada and bared his fangs, tongue flicking out from between his teeth. She froze, unsure of what to do, and he coursed around behind her, and now it was his turn to put his tongue to her genitals. He licked at her swollen inner labia. His tongue was wider and rougher than hers, and it felt amazing. Finally, some sensation proportionate to her dragon anatomy.

He licked at her until she was beyond dripping, and the reason for her prodigious lubricant secretion became obvious.

With all that dick, she was going to need all the lube she could get.

He lined up over her, her tail to the side, slightly twisted to make room for him, his tip against her entrance.

The wordless words passed between them again.

I make my advance.

I accept your advance.

It was happening. Ada quivered with excitement.

Slowly, he pressed in. His growl of pleasure reverberated through her. Gods, he felt amazing. As his dick was fully in, she sighed. He was so bi—

He was not fully in. There was more. The knot! Ada hadn’t even taken the knot yet! Just as she started to clench instinctively, he pulled slowly out again, his ridged texture gliding against her.

Dragons didn’t fuck like any animal Ada knew of. His body didn’t hump so much as undulate, ripples of muscle drawing him smoothly in and out in an almost elliptical motion. His grip tightened around her, and the pressure soothed her, relaxed her, like the heaviness of the waterfall. He pushed in slightly further this time and as she felt the knot, she clenched again. He slowed and repeated.

Ada oozed plenty of fluid around him, soaking the sand at her feet, ensuring that the only resistance to his methodical, hypnotic thrusts was her own muscles.

He pressed further and further inside of her with each stroke, letting her slowly accustom to his knot, the whole experience working on some visceral level so that she relaxed… and relaxed more… and relaxed more… 

Could he even come without his knot inside of her? She hoped not. She wanted all of it. Just imaging what it would feel like for her to climax with that knot inside of her…

Wait. No. Oh no.

Ada tensed and so the dragon gripped her tighter, drawing his textured tip further out this time before pressing in again. His muscles were like iron around her. No, she could have ripped apart iron like wet paper. He was as only a dragon could be.

She wiggled against him, but the only effect was that she grew even more aroused at his unyielding strength. She considered struggling in earnest, but she couldn’t bring herself to. If she did, then he might stop! More than anything, she did not want him to stop. 

His firm grip and the hypnotic thrusting soothed her, and she melted again. Was this why human-Ada liked so much to be trapped? Or did dragon-Ada like it because human-Ada did? Ada got the feeling as the bliss seeped into her bones that it was actually something that the two of them separately agreed upon.

If she came, she had no idea what that meant if she had a dragon dick inside of her. Even if her transformation were successful, she was equally worried about what would happen if she became a helpless human next to a dragon abruptly denied his climax.

And she knew exactly what happened to dragons denied their climaxes.

She’d just have to not come, then.

While having the best fuck of her life.

Easy.

Actually, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard. Everything about this process seemed designed to relax her, to be soothing. After all her practice with Pasco, she might actually be able to just sit back and enjoy this. She imagined that she could hear the song, that she could see Pasco sitting there with the locket open on his chest, that she couldn’t come until she saw Pasco again. This was the rule. She’d be rewarded, but she have to wait. And be a good little dragon.

And just… bask in being fucked by this giant dragon dick.

Her clitoris, perhaps by design or perhaps happenstance in a mirror of the male’s anatomy, sat fully up within her scales. The ridges of his dick ran directly across it and the direct stimulation would have been unbearably intense if not for the way the pressure around her body soothed her.

His undulating continued and she melted further. He pushed in again, and this time she really felt the knot. It was amazing. She gasped, and he withdrew.

Part of her started aching for a good, hard fuck, but his steady undulations teased her. That thought made her even wetter. On that surge of wetness, he pressed in even farther. She clenched around him as he withdrew, which made him moan.

That made her even wetter.

As he pressed in again, the muscles of her entrance finally slipped fully over the knot, in the most wonderful stretch. She clenched, hard. Instead of forcing him out, now that she was on the other side of the knot, it drew him in even deeper.

She couldn’t help but clench again, and he groaned. They were now locked together.

He pulled against her, trying to get another round of sensation, but she gripped him tight. She squeezed, enjoying a long moment of his desperate wiggling, clawing and whining, his claws against the scales of her back, his legs against hers, him trying to pull himself free, to fuck her, anything to get any sensation other than the squeezing heat. 

His knot pulling against her clenched muscles felt so good.

He’d caught her, but now she had him.

He was panting, drooling, starting to foam at the mouth.

That sent another wave of arousal through her, which, suddenly, became very literal. In yet another new experience for her, the muscles of her sex contracted in a ripple, from his base and her entrance all the way up to his tip, deep inside of her. He gasped, and it happened again. His panting collapsed into blissy moaning as her muscles gave him the sensation he was so desperately craving.

He wasn’t fucking her so much as she was milking him. Both dragon-Ada and human-Ada liked this very much. And, since she could set the pace, she could make sure that he came before she did.

Gods, it felt so good to be so full. She’d be ruined, after this. Lolling in the waterfall, begging Pasco to find her another dragon dick. Maybe the carpenters could make her a suitable substitute?

Best take it slow, for now. She stopped for a moment, no longer clenching around him. He started to pant again and scrabbled against her, reaching around with his forelegs to stroke the scales of outer labia, which were stretched around him. That triggered the convulsions again, even stronger.

So, maybe she couldn’t stop the rippling contractions. She just had to focus on her breathing. Nice and slow.

His dick started to throb inside of her, to pulse against her muscles even as she clamped around him. She hadn’t thought he could get any thicker! The sensation almost sent her over the edge, but she kept control. She couldn’t handle much more, though. She needed him to come soon.

She angled her long neck around to assess her options. That was nearly a mistake — the sight of him wrapped around her, desperately clinging, pawing at her stomach, drooling, the visible ripples of her abdomen as she squeezed down on him — it was almost too much. But, she did spot an opportunity. She had fully taken his knot, but his balls throbbed, full and needy, right behind.

Carefully, so as to not surprise herself with a new sensation and lose her focus, Ada curled herself around so that she could reach his balls with her tongue. They were pressed up around his base, like the scales of his slit were a cock ring, presenting his testicles, nice and tight, for her visual and oral pleasure.

She flicked her tongue out and the anticipation caused her muscles to contract harder, which made him throb and pant even more.

Focus, Ada. She pressed out the full length of her tongue and gave him an experimental lick. He roared. 

Oh yes. She wasn’t sure at this point whether it was draconic instinct or human ingenuity but she didn’t care. She licked him once, twice more, but that was all it took. His balls spasmed, for a moment under great tension, and then Ada felt his shaft swell yet again as he pumped into her.

She watched, dizzy and slack-jawed as he emptied himself into her, desperately pulling against her, clawing against her labia so that she clenched him over and over.

Ada focused on soaking in every moment of watching him climax, as a way of deferring her own orgasm. It worked with Pasco, and it worked now.

Unlike a human, or even a siren, his orgasm did not seem to be time-limited, but rather volume limited. He spasmed, pumping, over and over and over again until his balls were empty.

The seal between his knot and her muscles was so firm that not even a single drop leaked out.

He, too, would not be getting out, not if his knot didn’t become significantly smaller. The male sighed, totally sated, as slowly his erection faded and the rest of his body reclaimed its blood.

Ada’s muscles insisted on staying tightly clenched, so it wasn’t until the knot was almost entirely gone that he was able to slip out and collapse on the sand next to her. 

Her sex clenched tightly after him, as if reluctant to lose any of his seed. Reflexive, perhaps, though not practical. Dragon-Ada had known as surely as human-Ada had known that no fertile egg would come of this.

His drained balls slipped back inside of his scales and so too the rest of him slowly withdrew as he sighed with contentment.

He lifted his head and started to groom her again, which Ada happily allowed. She’d have to stay focused, still, while he was awake. As she relaxed next to him, she started to get sleepy. So did he, and he nestled his chin down into the sand and drifted off.

She realized, she’d never actually slept as a dragon before. Dozed, sure, but that wasn’t quite the same. She still wouldn’t, it seemed. It wouldn’t quite be safe to let down her guard — not only considering the male dragon, but also her own potentially arousing dreams.

Human-Ada wondered whether dragons tended to live with their mates, or solitary. Dragon-Ada knew, it depended. And wholly, Ada knew that she could not stay. She dragged herself to her feet and licked the other dragon’s muzzle, and he stirred quietly in his sleep. She took a moment to appreciate him, examine his full length, his intricate scales and muscular legs, his branched antlers and the last of his shaft withdrawing.

Then, she took off, flying back out over the ocean.

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