Shell Game
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2015 by Faberbinx

Erotic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A man wakes up, unsure of where he is or what is happening to him. His loving partner clearly has done this before and enjoys the anonymity.

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma   Drunk/Drugged   Gay   Fiction   Science Fiction   MaleDom   Humiliation   Anal Sex   Petting   Spitting  

My head feels strangely fuzzy and only now parts of my body are beginning to have dull feelings. I'm vaguely aware I'm moving, but the motion and sensation is alien to me. A slight pain spreads from my backside pooling in my testicles; I feel pressure and warmth. There's someone mumbling something increasingly louder behind me. I feel hot.

"Jonathan-Jonathan, yes," he moans, moving faster. He grabs the lifeless shell's hips, lifting them, and forces himself deeper with a longer stroke. "Your pussy, mmm so good" he licks his lips and feels Jonathan tighten around him. The shell looks so much like Jonathan, even its hair is the same length. The way his muscles wrap sinewy around the athletic body, even the sparse freckles and tattoos – the very sight of the shell lying still excites him. The thought of former trysts with the real Jonathan spent in Melfroppe arouses him further. He spits in his hand and wraps it around 'Jonathan's' penis. "Cum for me," he loves this part. Sometimes Jonathan is cooperative and they cum together, but other times it takes more effort, and Jonathan finishes in his mouth.

I can feel some things but my vision and understanding are foggy at best. It feels like I'm being attacked. I try to speak but it's truncated by the feeling of a strange pleasure and losing what little control I have of my concentration. I'm not being attacked, but there's a burly figure holding me from behind. The wet thick warm hand forces cum from me in spurts. The mumbling behind me turns to groaning sounds and then I feel fullness. The sensation of warm fluids flowing into me and caresses and a name, 'John?' I can't make it out. I'm being cradled from behind and have finally put it together. Have I just been raped? Why is he talking to me? The forced pleasure loses its grip on me - the anger boiling inside me fuels my panic. The predator hugs me tighter. I'm panicking but unable to move; I'm trapped in myself, furious.

"Jonathan, you're so beautiful," he rubs his face on the twitching body. "I was thinking about you all week and I'm so happy we can be together like this. I can't stay long but I promise I'll work harder to see you later this week. If I could I'd take you out of here tonight. A few more days and I will." He lays Jonathan by his side and brushes his black hair back, kissing his neck before reclining on the now sweat and cum soiled sheets. He always brings new sheets, every time, and he'll change these after he gives Jonathan a bath. He runs his hand from Jonathan's face down his chest fingering his freckles and lingers at his hands. They twitch slowly at first. He narrows his eyes, focusing on them and jumps back, toppling off the bed onto the floor "What's- Jo—Hello? Hello? Did you move?" He gets back up, his face moves closer to the clenching fingers, and he moves backwards to take in the enormity of what's happening.

I can barely move or talk but I make a guttural choking sound while trying to open my jaw more and say anything, find out why I'm here and how to get help. I laboriously blink my eyes and slowly open them to try and find a weapon or really a clue. How close is my predator to me? My senses are coming back to me and I can groan and muster what little strength I have to move my hands and arms weakly to hopefully sit up. I'm in a room that's carefully arranged like a hotel but it is unfamiliar. There's large windows and vase of fresh flowers. The bed I'm laying on is not uncomfortable but I feel warm and clean aside from the cum beginning to dribble from my sore asshole. I'm trying to sit up and look for clothes or something to keep the naked staring maniac away from me. He looks as shocked as I am. He's moving closer and reaches out to touch me again. My eyes, now fully open, are now wide in full on panic. I'm helpless but enraged.

"Hello? Hey uh are you conscious?" he pokes Jonathan and jumps back. "Fuck, fuck! I gotta – Oh my god. I can't, this isn't supposed to happen – is this happening?" He makes panicked grabs for his clothing on the floor, stumbling, cursing, and shaking his head. "I can't believe this shit. They're not supposed to wake up. This is unreal. This fucking..." he looks towards the shell beginning to move clumsily around. Formerly Jonathan, it moves too slow to pose a threat but the fact that it is moving is unbelievable. "Are you..." Dressed now he stands and stares, irritated and confused by this turn of events, observing this being who felt so much like Jonathan actually moving and now looking angry. He snaps out of it and moves quickly to the table. He grabs his jacket and belongings and gets ready to run out the door and to find the owner. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he looks back in amazement at the stranger. It is still trying to sit itself up awkwardly. "Fuck," he curses, drops his stuff on the chair and goes back to the table. He shakily pours a glass of water and timidly moves towards the bed. "Jonathan- I mean, uh, here I'm ... I'm sorry, I'll get help." He puts the glass next to the bed, makes a pained face at the meek movements of his former lover, and puts the pitcher next to the glass. "Fuck," he grabs his things and rushes out, slamming the door behind him.

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