This guy is my new hero. I'd try to hire him to build this in our house, but he'd have to bring his cats with him, and The Princess here wouldn't like that....
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Governor's Ride
Writing Porn For My Own Amusement/To Keep Me From Getting Too Angry Over Current Events
Despite being based on current events, this story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is a shocking, shocking coincidence. Because fiction.
Warning: Smut with no redeeming social value that should not be read by anyone. Author will not be held responsible for psychological trauma resulting from reading this bad, silly, smutty story which has not been beta-read, edited, or even read through more than once.
Last chance to click away to something with actual value and no smut!
Okay, you have chosen to proceed. Caveat lector.
Governor Mark Shillings signed the bill in the same the reliable, masculine way he did everything in his political life. The guests to the private signing applauded, then allowed the Governor’s aides to herd them into a reception line. Mark then shook hands with the guests as they left the office, careful to adjust his strength to match that of each one. Some of the nuns’ hands felt like paper birds.
The last hand held out to him was that of the rabbi. Mark was usually the tallest person in his office, but this rabbi had a good three inches on him, and Mark had to look up to meet his eyes as he shook that hand. The man’s grip was firm, its strength reassuring Mark that he had done the right thing in signing the Religious Freedom bill into law. Those citizens of his state who held deep and sincere religious beliefs had to be protected from those filthy queers who wanted to push their disgusting lifestyles on everyone else. Two male figures on a wedding cake? It was practically blasphemy.
The rabbi was good looking, albeit in a swarthy sort of way. He’d come by himself, the rest of his colleagues denouncing the very bill meant to help them. Mark didn’t understand that attitude at all. He was about to suggest that he and the rabbi talk about it in further detail, perhaps over glasses of whiskey, but the rabbi pulled his hand free from Mark’s unwittingly tight grip, gave him an odd look, and hurried away.
Mark sighed. Why was it so difficult to make friends with men? Every time he tried, he was rebuffed, or he’d had to do the rebuffing. A few times he’d approached a strong, attractive man in his gym only to find out that the man was not what he had seemed. How could it be? Everyone knew that homosexuals were slim, effeminate hairdressers with lisps. Mark would never seek friendship with someone like that. He had always dreamed of being a part of a group, a tribe, even, of men like himself: sturdy, manly, strong and active. He and his tribe would go to ball games and beer fests. They would play golf together. They’d go hiking and camping in the woods, pushing their bodies to the limits during the day, and sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder under a blanket of stars at night.
“You don’t need them, sweetie,” his wife would console. “You’re my best friend, and you always will be.”
Christine was a gem. Mark pushed aside his disappointment and concentrated on the law that would make his name known throughout the entire country, maybe even the world. He couldn’t have done it without his wife’s support. She deserved a little something. And maybe with the help of one of his tiny blue friends, he’d give her a little something else on top of that.
On the drive home, something frilly in a display window caught his eye. “Pull over, Terry,” he said. “I want to go into that store.”
“Sir, this isn’t the best neighborhood,” his driver responded, glancing at his passenger in the rear-view mirror. “You can get almost anything online these days—”
“Any package mailed to the house gets opened by security, and I want to surprise the missus,” Mark responded. “Just pull over. I won’t be very long.”
Terry sighed and did as ordered.
Mark got out of the car and entered the store. He hadn’t ever patronized this sort of business; the only time he had been close to such a place was when he’d been twenty years old and his Students for Moral Values group picketed a store that sold adult videos, among other things.
This store made the one from his college days look like a Build-A-Bear workshop. The lacy, racy lingerie in the window was eclipsed by the degenerate displays that assaulted his eyes from every square foot. Leather! Metal! Some shiny material that looked like paint, only with zippers and laces! DVDs on shelves and in bins, tiny bottles of God-knows-what, and there, on the walls, the most hideous and unnatural items of all….
“Ah, I see you’re interested in our dildos.”
Mark whipped his head around to see who had spoken and found himself staring at a shoulder. He looked up into the face of a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, with crinkles around his blue eyes, a neatly trimmed beard with a lot of silver in it, and shoulders so broad they blocked out most of the store. Thankfully.
“No!” Mark protested, lifting his hands and accidentally brushing them against the plaid shirt covering the man’s firm, muscular chest. “I came in to ask about….” What had he come in to ask about? What was so important that it had caused him to enter this Den of Iniquity?
“Wait, I know you,” the man said, frowning at Mark. Then his face cleared. “You’re the governor!”
“No!” Mark said again. “I mean, yes. Excuse me.” He took a few deep breaths to get himself under control, inhaling some of the man’s scent. Some woodsy cologne. Mark sniffed again. It wasn’t half bad. He was about to ask the name of the cologne – maybe Christine would like it – when the man nodded.
“I understand completely, governor. Please come with me. We have a private room where VIPs can browse our products at their leisure. I’m Alex, by the way, and I’ll be happy to help you with anything you desire.”
Mark’s feet moved of their own volition, following Alex past aisles of indescribable items, through a door at the back of the store, and into an office. At least, Mark assumed it was an office. It had a desk with a computer and a couple of chairs, but it also had a strange padded bench taking up most of the space.
“Please have a seat. I’ll bring some items for you to look at,” Alex said, then left the room.
Mark couldn’t get to either of the chairs without climbing over the bench, so he sat gingerly on the edge. It was really quite comfortable, but it had the strangest arm rests sticking up at oblique angles.
“Here we are,” Alex said, entering the office. He dropped several items on the desk and began opening the packaging. “I brought our best sellers in various sizes and types.”
Mark couldn’t look at the items on the desk, but he couldn’t look away, either. They were all shaped like erect penises. He couldn’t imagine what their purpose was, or why Alex thought he had an interest in them. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” he began, but Alex smiled.
“I know it can be embarrassing, but sometimes it’s easier to talk about your fantasies with a stranger. You probably haven’t even mentioned anything to your wife, have you?”
Mark shook his head.
“Lots of straight guys like their wives or girlfriends to stimulate them this way. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just basic biology.”
Alex’s smile was so warm and welcoming. He was exactly the sort of man Mark wanted to have as a friend, with his muscular physique and his confident attitude. Still, Mark needed to explain himself. “That’s not why I came in.”
“Why did you come in, governor?” Alex ran both hands over his close-cropped hair and then down his chest to his thighs.
A fog filled Mark’s mind. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, as long as you’re here, how about a demonstration?”
Mark nodded, making no protest when Alex had him stand up, step out of his pants and underwear, and lay down on the bench. A straight-shooter like Alex wouldn’t steer him wrong. He put his feet up – ah, foot rests, not arm rests! – on the raised pieces of the bench. It was a remarkably comfortable position.
“This is a good model to start with,” Alex said, holding up a piece of peach-colored silicone that was slightly larger than Mark would get about twenty minutes after downing one of his tiny blue friends. “Taste it.” He nudged the dildo – is that what Alex had called it? – against Mark’s lips. Mark opened his mouth obediently. The silicone was warm and pliable. It had no taste, and yet the feel of it, the weight of it felt just right in Mark’s mouth. He ran his tongue over the dildo, then gagged as Alex pushed it further into his mouth.
“Oops, sorry about that, sir,” Alex said, pulling it out. “My hand slipped.”
“That’s all right,” Mark said, then opened his mouth again, but Alex didn’t bring it back to his lips. Instead, he held it up where Mark could see it.
“Good quality lube and lots of it is important, especially for newbies.” Alex drizzled the dildo with some clear liquid, then moved it out of Mark’s line of sight. “Try to relax,” he said.
Why would Mark have to relax? He wasn’t nervous at all, not with his new friend Alex to—
“Yikes!” Mark yelped as something slid into his rectum. It was bigger than his doctor’s finger. Bigger than that other doctor’s finger, too, when he went to get a second opinion about his prostate. In fact, it was bigger than any of the fingers of any of the doctors Mark had visited over the past three months to have his prostate examined. Each doctor had told him the same thing: that his prostate was completely normal. But a man couldn’t be too careful about his health.
“Yeah, sorry, the lube might be a little cold.” Alex pushed the dildo in deeper, up to the fake testicles at its base. “It should be warming up now.”
It was. Mark squirmed a little. “You say lots of straight men buy this model?”
“Oh, yeah, tons of them.” Alex worked the dildo in and out of Mark’s rectum. “But the next model is even more popular.” He wiggled the dildo a little, then pulled it out and set it on the desk. “Here, try this.”
Mark watched Alex squirt lube onto a piece of silicone the same color as Christine’s Prada pumps from two years ago. Then he sighed as the new dildo entered him.
Little Mark seemed to like it, too. He was still drooping against the crease of Mark’s thigh, but definitely getting interested.
“Wow, governor, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you would be able to take it, but look at you go!”
“Thank you, Alex. That means a lot coming from a man like you.”
Alex made a noise that Mark couldn’t place, something between a snort and a cough.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir. Allergies.”
The dildo slid in and out, causing Little Mark to perk up even more. Mark hadn’t been this hard in years, even with the help of his tiny blue friends. He reached down and touched himself, marveling at his erection. He was up to almost three inches! If this is what a dildo could do, sign him up!
Of course, Mark had to give some credit to the man orchestrating all these pleasant feelings. Maybe Alex could give Christine some pointers. He could come over for dinner some night, there would be pleasant conversation, and then the three of them would retire to Mark’s bedroom. Christine could sit and watch from a safe distance the first time, or the first few times. Alex would loom over Mark like he was doing now, his manly scent filling Mark’s nose.
“How much….” He swallowed. “How much is this model?”
“I’ll take it.”
“But sir, you haven’t even tried the others.” Alex pulled the dildo out of Mark’s rectum and shoved another one in. This one was even bigger. The stretching, burning sensation that resulted made Little Mark stand nearly upright. Mark covered himself with one hand. It wouldn’t do to pleasure himself in front of a stranger. Best to save that for Christine. She had wonderful hands, long, strong fingers that could bring him to hardness almost half the time they attempted coitus.
“This one is fifty dollars,” Alex said, getting Mark’s attention. “Now, check this out.”
There was a click, and the dildo began to vibrate.
“Oh!” Mark’s backdoor region hummed along with the vibrations and despite his best intentions, he began to massage himself. “This one. I’ll buy this one. Ah….”
“I can’t let you decide without trying our best-seller.” Alex said in his deep, sultry voice as he pulled out the vibrator. “Meet ‘The Destroyer.’” He held up a deep purple object as big as Mark’s forearm. A flip of a switch, and the thing began to flop around like one of those inflatable tube men at a used car lot. Alex flipped the switch off and grinned.
“Oh my!” Mark stared at it. He couldn’t imagine how it would fit inside him, but he didn’t have to imagine for long. A generous dollop of lube, some skillful waggling from Alex, and the monster was in!
It was so long, Mark felt as if it were pushing against his lungs, and the stretch! Like a basketball had been shoved up into him. A glorious, glorious basketball. When Alex flipped the switch again, setting The Destroyer in motion, Mark nearly fell off the bench.
“Do you like it, sir?”
“Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh…..” The shaking was too much. He could barely speak.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“All right,” Alex said. He took a step back and watched with a twinkle in his eye. “How does it make you feel?”
How did it make him feel? Like he was a rag doll being tossed about by unruly children. Like he was being used for someone else’s pleasure. Like he was being forced to submit to a madman, to perform the most undignified, basest, filthiest, sexiest acts imaginable! He moved his hand faster, one hand encircling all three and a half inches of his fully erect penis, and asked God to forgive him. But really, if God hadn’t wanted him to enjoy himself, he wouldn’t have put this store, these objects, and Alex in Mark’s path.
“Is this the one you want, sir?”
Just another few seconds….
“YES!” Mark shouted. “I want it! I want them all!” So close now….
The Destroyer stopped moving and a second later, Alex pulled it out of Mark’s ass.
“Wait, what….What are you doing? Darn it all, why did you stop?” Mark screeched. “Put it back!” But it was already too late. Little Mark shriveled and shrunk back to its usual flaccidity. “Why did you stop?” he moaned.
“Governor.” Alex’s expression was no longer warm and amused. His eyes looked like melted artic ice might look if climate change were a real thing and not just a liberal conspiracy. “I stopped because I cannot sell you any of these items. It’s against my sincerely held religious beliefs to do business with theocrats. And because you signed that bill into law today, I’m perfectly within my rights to tell you to put your dick away, pull your pants up, and get the hell out of my store.”
Mark blinked at him a few times, not quite able to process what he was hearing. He continued to lie on the bench until Alex shouted “Go!” Then he rolled off the bench, got his pants on and zipped up, and stumbled out of the office, running straight into Terry.
“Sir! You were gone so long, I was getting worried. Are you all right?”
“Let’s go,” Mark said, hurrying toward the front doors. Lube squelched out of his rectum with every step, no matter how he tried to clench to hold it in.
“Sir, are you sure—”
“I don’t want to talk about it! You’re paid to drive the darn car, so pipe down and drive!”
Terry’s face went blank. “Yes, sir.” He opened the door for Mark, who got in.
Once home, Mark went straight to his room to change out of his soggy pants. That night, he tried to recreate the experience Alex had given him by using his fingers, a carrot, a cucumber, and the handle of his Titleist 9-iron, but nothing came close. He spent the early hours of the morning going from website to website searching for vibrators, putting them into shopping carts, then removing them and closing his browser before opening it again and starting the search anew. He fell asleep with his hands still on the keyboard.
A knock on his door woke him. Mark wiped the drool from his cheek and looked at the clock. Eleven AM? He sat up just as his aide entered the room.
“Sir, I think you should come downstairs.”
“What’s wrong, Josh?”
“There’s a delivery for you.”
Mark got up, put a robe on, and went downstairs. On the kitchen island was a large, clear plastic bag, and inside of it were…oh, dear God, the items Alex had used on him.
All of them.
Including The Destroyer.
And staring at that clear plastic bag was his wife.
“Uhhhh….” was all that came out of Mark’s mouth. It seemed to have lost its connection to his brain.
“There’s a note,” Josh whispered. He pointed to a piece of paper Christine was holding.
Mark tugged the note free from his wife’s white-knuckled grip. His hand shook as he read it.
Dear Governor Shillings,
I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was unconscionable to lead you to believe I would treat you like any other customer and then turn you away so callously. I believe that everyone should be treated equally, fairly, and with dignity, but last night I allowed my anger to get in the way of my business practices and, much worse, my integrity.
After a night of soul-searching, I have decided that the least I can do to try to make amends is to offer you the items you enjoyed so much when I demonstrated them on you, or rather, in you. Therefore, please accept the contents of this package as my gift to you. I hope you will have no hard feelings (except the good kind <wink>), and I will be happy to serve you again personally any time you visit the store in the future.
Owner, O’Toole’s Pleasure Emporium
Mark swallowed and looked up at his wife. “Yes, dear?”
Christine narrowed her eyes. “Would you care to explain this?”
A bag full of sinful ecstasy, right there within his reach, and he couldn’t lay a finger on it.
“No, dear, I would not.”
~ the end ~