Chapter 2

The morning light bleeds through the blinds and right into Marshall’s eyes. He stirs, finding it annoying to wake up like this yet again, and before his alarm goes off to wake him. But it isn’t all so bad. Yesterday was a good day, and so was last night. He jerked off more time than he could count. He climaxed far more times than he ever had in a single day. He opens his eyes to look upon the Big Black. That is the name of the ancient dildo the book gave it. It is the object of his desire that sits on his night stand. Reaching for his phone, he turns off the alarm before it can go off. He notices the sheets are wet and sticky too. He never changed them and only added to them throughout the night.

And of course the man is feeling highly aroused by the thoughts of last night. His sexual tension is at an all-time high despite his multiple efforts at seeking relief and finding it. But that relief is fleeting and has to be obtained again and again and again. Marshall’s blood is pulsing throughout his body and is nowhere stronger than in his cock. He opens his legs wide to cup and squeeze his balls. He caresses them as if to warm up their contents to ready them for their explosion into the outside world.

Marshall doesn’t focus on them for too long. He leaves them to take control of his erection, anticipating another round with it. He ponders whether he should make it quick or go at it slow, teasing himself to completion. He chooses the latter, wanting to tease the load out. He wants to enjoy the slow build up and stiffness of his prick. He wants to maximize the orgasm. It is morning after all. What better way to wake up?

Hardly holding his length, he grips just the tip of it with his fingers. He is delicate about it, as if holding something so frail just holding risks breaking it. Then lightly—ever so lightly—he begins rubbing up and down. It is a steady rhythm—not too slow and not too fast. And he keeps this up for the next few minutes, building the excitement up to new heights.

Marshall now grips a bit tighter. That delicateness is no longer needed. He increases the pressure, his body tensing. The tension and need for release is intense. Part of him wants to forgo his decision, but another part of him wants to make it last. The book said it would be like this in the beginning. The important thing is to follow the book’s instructions. This is how loyalty is earned.

His hips start to rotate and buck. Only the soles of his feet and shoulders are on the bed. Rotating, bucking and thrusting more, he imagines his cock being buried in that feminine figure from his imagination yesterday. Marshall’s hand slides up and down his shaft, his grip more positive. Sometimes it is with fast, short strokes, sometimes it is with slow, long strokes. Precum flows out like a spring from the earth. He smears it all over the tip, making it shiny and well lubricated. He switches long and fast strokes, then slower and short, watching precum seep from the head like a wound.

The man’s breathing becomes erratic—heavy and shallow. He’s nearing the culmination of his pleasure. It is the peek he needs, the peek he seeks—the release he desires and the sensation he craves. He strokes more, bringing the tip to a tingling, frustrating head. His free hand is back on his balls, but this time it is loose, more relaxed. His hips jerk—groin thrusting. His hand is a steady movement over his length, up and down.

And then he’s there.

Marshall freezes. His hand is frozen in place. His breathing has stopped. With eyes glazing over, his body stiffens. He exhales as he pulls his hand down along his shaft one final time. The first blast of cum shoots out and with a flick of his wrist, driving his hand upward another more potent shot is fired. It plasters his belly. The man’s hips buck up high into the air to aid the next release.

But it’s not over. His hand is moving again, as if on its own volition, erratic and unsteady. Another shot—this one the most impressive thus far. It hits his cheek and the pillow beneath his head. Then two more that seem to lose their velocity and charisma. Marshall’s chest is doused as is the sheet around him. The entire thing is painfully pleasurable—painful to end, but pleasurable nonetheless. The seconds tick off and nothing happens. He slides his hand down his shaft one more time and another spasm and another burst of cum join the already splayed messiness.

Marshall slumps onto the bed, taking a moment to collect himself. Eventually he drags himself from it and trudges into the bathroom. A glance in the mirror catches his attention and he stops to take a second look. Is my hair longer? Perplexed, he stares into the mirror, turning his head this way and that. It certainly seems longer. But with a shrug he slips back out into the room. He was going to take a shower, but what’s the point? He doesn’t care if he has cum all over. It will only make the day more interesting.

Marshall is sitting at his desk focusing more on the Big Black stuffed in his drawer than his actual work. He looks toward his co-worker and immediate supervisor’s office. I tis empty, which is a bit strange because if there is one person in the whole place that works nonstop it is Katrina.

Katrina is perhaps the best looking woman on his floor. She is the perfect woman with a nice shapely body, blonde hair and an ass that could rock my world. Suddenly he feels the confines of his pants a little too much. Looking down he sees that his bulge will not go unnoticed. So he pulls open his drawer, grabs the Big Black and rushes off to the restroom.

Marshall keeps his pace steady as not to grab anyone’s attention, especially with his pants tenting outward considerably. Holding the artifact alongside leg, he tries to lessen exposure of it. Then slipping into the restroom, he closes the door and turns the bolt. He sets it on the toilet and steps back to observe it.

While lost in the sight of the big, black and ancient dildo, Marshall doesn’t hear the door opening. But suddenly there is a pair of hands slipping around his waist to his pants, unzipping and unbuttoning them to release their prisoner. A smile spreads across the man’s lips. To his surprise, and expectation, Katrina slips around to face him. His hand slides up the back of her thigh, up past her skirt to slide across the smooth, soft flesh until he cups her warm, round ass. He gives it a frim squeeze as she dips her head down onto his lap.

Sitting on the toilet, Marshall drops his head back to enjoy her mouth. Katrina curls the tip of her tongue around the end of his rigid manhood and slurps it into her warm, wet mouth. He moans loudly, squeezing her ass harder. Her cheeks hollow and she sucks nosily on him.

“That’s it,” the man moans happily.

Katrina’s soft lips form a firm seal around the base of his shaft. His entire length is enveloped inside her mouth while she slurps vigorously on him, using her tongue to massage his meat. Then the accommodating blonde starts to bob her head. Marshall moans again and he can only hope he isn’t too loud so that anyone passing by the door doesn’t hear him. “That’s fucking good,” he says, stroking the top of her head with his free hand. “Suck that fucking dick.”

Katrina rolls her tongue around the tip, reaching up with one hand to stroke the base of his cock. She sucks hard, bobbing her head over him, determined to relieve him of every bit of cum he can produce. Marshall’s hand slips out from her skirt to reach for her chest. He cups one of the ample globes through her blouse, squeezing and kneading it through the fabric.

His supervisor continues to suck messily and unhindered, her saliva running down the hard shaft and over his balls to give him a nice wet blowjob. She lifts her mouth off for a moment, swiping her tongue over his balls and causing him to moan again. Then she is back on it, bouncing faster and faster. With one final squeeze, Marshall moves his hand back to the back of her head, urging her face down harder and his erection deeper into the back of her throat.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, using her mouth like a fuck toy. “Here it comes.” His cock immediately explodes as he holds the base of his shaft in a tight death grip. His hips lurch forward as he spurts thick, gooey ropes of cum onto the waiting dildo perched on the lid of the toilet. “Oh fuck,” he grunts as he pelts the artifact and back of the toilet.

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After cleaning up Marshall returned to his desk, wondering how the experience he had felt so real. Katrina wasn’t there. It seems to have been all in his head. Yet, it felt like it really did happen. And if that wasn’t strange, the fact that he didn’t have to clean anything but the toilet is even odder. Somehow the artifact seems to have absorbed his cum. Now he wishes he would have brought the book with him to see if it was his imagination or not.

Marshall doesn’t realize it, but sitting at his desk, thinking about what just happened and his curiosity about it all, he has his prick in his hand. He is steadily jerking it without a second’s thought to who would see it or the consequences that would follow. But before he can put it away, Katrina, sitting at her desk with a straight line of sight at him, sees it. Without warning, she is up off the chair, quickly closing the gap between them. She reaches out and gently pries his hand off his erection and takes hold of it in her own soft hand.

Marshall lets out a startled sigh as her cool hand closes around it and lurches in her grasp. She gives it a tender squeeze and then begins to move her hand, sliding it up and down. He stares down at her as she begins to slowly stroke him. The look on Katrina’s face is one of amusement and fascination. And the sight of her small fist sliding up and down his rigid flesh in plain view of the entire office arouses him even more. The busty blonde takes that fact that he hasn’t stopped her as encouragement to carry on.