My mind explodes as I try to put the pieces of my shattered consciousness back together. A thick fog settles all around me as sensations pour down from a thunderstorm of emotions. I try to move my legs, to lift my arms. It feels impossible.
The only thing that I can feel is a heatwave of pressure coming from my groin area. Looking down, I expect to see that my cock is on fire. The thought of my cock being burned off doesn’t concern me. It’ll take a while for the organ to regenerate. In that time, I can have peace of mind as I lie with Zahara, knowing that for a few days, it can’t harm her.
As the fog in my mind slowly clears, I see that there are no flames between my thighs. There is golden flesh against my own. A hand.
The fingers of that hand are long, but not slender. The nails are chipped and ragged, entirely unlike the manicured hands of my regular clientele. But the fingers are female.
Zahara.
She’s touching me with those working woman’s hands. I feel the calluses on her thumb as she strokes downward. That rough piece of skin lags and catches on my glans at the tip. The contact causes my balls to tighten. As they do, a coil of heat tightens in them, pulling at the skin around the beast, causing it to tighten and I gasp.
“Oh Fates, did I hurt you?” Zahara moves her hand from my cock.
I let out a harsh breath. Not one of relief. One of need. For once, both the beast and I are in agreement. We need her hand back on our flesh.
“I’ve never done this before. Am I doing it wrong? I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”
Her words are all a jumble. It will take too much concentration to try and understand them. I don’t have enough blood to divert to my head. All the fluid in my body has rushed down to the throbbing flesh between my thighs.
“Show me what to do. Show me how you touch yourself when you masturbate.”
Masturbate? I’ve never done it. Why would I want to rouse that monstrous part of me?
“Oh, I know what I’m missing. Lube,” she says.
I’m cognizant enough to watch as Zahara picks up the soap I used to clean her body. She rubs her hands together to build lather. Then she places not one but both hands on me.
“Fuuuuuutuo.” I bellow the ancient Roman curse.
The thunderstorm is back. It has brought with it furies from the seas. The avenging spirits come to life inside me and whip up a frenzy in my lower belly. Electricity crackles everywhere Zahara’s fingers touch my cock, as though my blood and the mythological creatures are trying to get out of my flesh to get to hers.
What magic is this woman wielding over me? All thoughts of stopping her have left my mind. There isn’t much left in there aside from getting closer to her.
“Is that better?”
Better? I had no idea that any good could come to me from my cock. No, this isn’t better. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I peer down into the water. My cock can be clearly seen through the suds of the bath. The red tip doesn’t appear angry. It strains with the same objective: it’s eager to get closer to her. The veins running along the sides of my flesh move and pulse to Zahara’s strokes. Even my balls coil and tighten, pulling up closer to get nearer to her as she comes close to the root of me.
I finally understand the meaning of the saying: she has him by the balls. My balls have been had by hundreds of women, thousands. But not a single one of them ever had me. I never felt anything more than stiff as they impaled themselves on my shaft, followed by a moment of relief after my seed spilled.
With Zahara’s hands on me, I feel the seed building inside of me. I feel a low heat in my back that pulses in time with the rhythm of her strokes. It comes from the beast, a promise of pleasure that it’s sharing with me.
For hundreds of years, I’ve been cut off from feeling any of this. My mind would always shut down when my cock became erect to do its duty. But now… now, I want this.
I want to be with Zahara. I want to be around her. I want to be a part of her. I want to be inside of her.
My hips begin to thrust my cock into her hand, seeking more friction. I want to shake the suds off her hands. Even that thin layer of lubrication is too much space between us.
I reach out to her. Her flesh is hot in the cool waters of the bath. My hands slide down to cup the globes of her lush ass as she settles her knees over my hips. There is barely an inch between us, only enough space for her hand around my thick cock.
For a moment, I panic. Worry creases my brow as I look down. But my cock doesn’t try to worm itself into her sheath.
It stands erect between our bellies, its single eye focused squarely up and on Zahara as she handles it.
“Good?” she asks, speeding up her strokes.
I can’t answer. I can’t remember the English language. It would take too much to remember the single-syllabled word for agreement. So, I nod my head in the universal language of fuck, yeah.
With two hands, Zahara strokes long and firm, from the base of my cock all the way up to the tip. I am uncircumcised, but there is no give in my taut foreskin. I can feel the lifelines on her palms. I can feel the grooves
