Brass Oil Lamp By Robert S. Costic
Robert Costic has written a collection of fairy tales, "Flamethrower Fairy Tales," a novella, "Kepler's Revenge," a collection of aphorisms, "Lightning Words," and a translation of the 19th century German writer Theodor Storm's fairy tales and ghost stories. All are available as ebooks everywhere.
I didn't know my life would change forever the night that Mr. Harrington, a frumpy old john who occasionally picked me up at my regular bar, propositioned me to steal for him. He saddled up on a stool next to me while I nursed a cheap beer, less than an hour after another man had fucked me, and he asked me, "Have any plans tomorrow night?"
I didn't.
"I was hoping you could do a special assignment for me. I would pay you well for the trouble, say $10,000. I have a friend I want you to meet. You are his type, and I was hoping you could entertain him for me. But more importantly, when you visit his place--"
"I don't visit my johns' homes," I told him, which was true, for safety reasons.
"He's a good guy, you don't have to worry about him," Mr. Harrington said, "but if you're so concerned, how about I sweeten the offer? $20,000."
That was an enormous amount of money for me at the time. "Fine, tell me more."
"When you visit his place I was hoping you could nab a little thing for me. In his bedroom on top of his dresser he keeps a little brass oil lamp. The thing is, that lamp is very valuable, but he doesn't know it. He's fond of it only for sentimental reasons, because it's a family heirloom. If I could get my hands on it I could sell it to an antique store I have connections with and make a nice profit."
"Okay," I said, "seems easy enough," although in truth my mind raced to think how I could take such a thing without his friend noticing. I actually had never stolen anything before. "So how would you like us to meet?"
"I'll set up the date right now," Mr. Harrington said, and he made a call on his phone. "Hey, Bob, how're you doing? Hey, remember that boy I had been telling you about? Yeah, that picture. Yeah, he's interested in meeting up tomorrow. You free? Nice, okay. I'll tell him." And he turned back to me and said, "10pm. I'll give you his address."
"Okay, and the money?"
"I'll give you $10,000 now and the rest when you give me the lamp."
"Okay, but not here. We can go to the hotel if you'd like. I'll give you a little bonus for such generosity."
"I won't turn it down," Mr. Harrington said, lighting up.
We went to my hotel, he gave me an enormous roll of cash, and I blew him for an hour, although he didn't cum due to his impotence.
The next evening I showed up at the door of Bob's townhouse, more nervous than usual. When I knocked Bob opened the door. He was another frumpy man much like Mr. Harrington. He smiled. "Come in! Come in! Thank you for making it."
"My pleasure," I said, stepping inside and immediately stood myself within an inch of him. I placed a hand on one of his sagging pecs and let it linger there. He took the cue and filled the remaining space, moving in to kiss me on the lips.
"You're as sexy in person as you appear in your pics," he said when he finished.
"Thanks."
He led me by the hand upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as we entered I spied the brass oil lamp on the dresser, along with several hundred dollar bills lying right next to it. He swung me around so that we once again faced each other, his bulbous torso pressing against mine.
"What are you in the mood for?" I asked him, gazing into his eyes.
"Justice at Nuremberg," he said.
"Justice at Nuremberg?"
And that's when he pulled out a large, thick book and handed it to me. "Read from it," he said. With my free hand he led me to bed, where he snuggled up next to me and placed his head on my chest. "Start where the bookmark's placed."
So I opened the book and read aloud to him a passage about Werner Hartenstein's sinking of the Laconia, and the subsequent effort of the Germans to rescue the civilians aboard the ship, and how by unfortunate circumstance the rescue was thwarted by American airstrikes, which left the civilians at the mercy of sharks. By the time I had finished the chapter Bob was snoring loudly into my naval. I carefully extracted myself from him, took the cash and the lamp, and quietly made my way out of his house.
"That was easy!" I kept thinking to myself once I left, but when I approached my apartment I noticed that the entrance door was ajar. I did not go inside. I turned back, called my friend William, and asked if I could swing by. When I got to his place I told him everything, and he asked to see the lamp.
When I pulled the lamp out William exclaimed, "Look at how dull it is!
Looks like it's never been polished once in its whole life. Let me take care of it." He got some polish and began rubbing the lamp with it. The brass began to shine, but smoke also began to emit from its spout.
Startled, we backed away from it, and as the cloud of smoke grew it transformed and solidified into the body of a handsome, nude, Arabian man, his perfectly proportioned and symmetrical figure drawing attention to his otherwise engorged cock riddled with visibly swelling veins and its head peaking out of the foreskin. The wondrously strange man turned to William and said, "You summoned me, master? What do you wish?"
"Who are you?" William exclaimed.
"I am a genie at your service, master," the mysterious man said plainly and bowed.
"Fuck me," William said, mouth agape.
"Your wish is my command." The genie's cock grew erect, and with a wave of his hand all of William's clothes flew off. William's dick also stood erect, and although I always admired its size it looked relatively modest compared to our vascular stranger. For a moment their hardened cocks brushed against each other. But then with magic the genie lifted William into the air and impaled him. William moaned and reached for the genie, stroking the genie's face, his neck, and his nipples. The genie thrusted into him and covered him with licks of his tongue and his hands, sometimes so thoroughly working him it seemed like there were several tongues, several hands. I was damned if I wasn't going to do anything while they fucked in front of me, so I took out my own hard cock and began jerking off, spitting on it for some lubrication. But when William saw what I was doing he motioned for me to come over. I did so, going behind him, I stuffed my cock inside him along with the genie's, and we fucked him together.
The genie's dick seemed to hog the space within William's sphincter. I struggled to maintain my place, although the tightness and the texture of its thick veins excited me. It didn't take me long to cum, and once I did the cum smeared over both of our dicks. The genie asked William, "Do you want me to cum, too?"
"Yes," he said.
"How much?" the genie asked.
"Lots. I want it pouring out of me," William said.
The genie groaned, I could feel his dick pulsing against mine, and in a moment both of our dicks slid out of William to let the cum pour out of him onto the floor, and in that same moment torrents of cum came crashing through the windows and the doors, splashing their way into the room and settling on the floor.
"Anything else you desire?" the genie asked William.
"Give me a moment to relax," William said, staggering back to his seat, his feet swishing their way through the cum flood. He turned to me. "This is a big fucking deal. We have a genie in our hands. We'll be set for life."
"Yeah, but I'm worried," I said. I think Mr. Harrington is after me for this lamp. He probably knew its real value. And I think either he or someone else he knows was in my apartment. What am I going to do?"
"Well, why don't we ask the genie?" William said.
We presented my situation to the genie. "I know what to do," the genie said.
"You're not going to murder them, are you?" I asked. "I'd rather you didn't, if there's another way."
"Oh," the genie said, alarmingly downcast. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."
We devised a plan. I stayed at William's, and the next day I met Mr. Harrington at the bar and gave him a replica lamp that the genie fashioned for me. When he saw it his eyes glowed. "Oh thank you, thank you very much. You have no idea how much this means to me." He bought us a round of drinks and gave a toast to our good fortune. "Would you be up for a little fun at the hotel?" he then asked me.
"I actually have another date," I said. "Another time?"
"Fine, fine," Mr. Harrington said, and slipped me a roll of bills.
As we left the bar we saw Bob on the street, backlit in the nighttime by the streetlights, walking angrily toward us, and waving a wooden cane threateningly at us. "There you are! Someone called me and said you'd be here, you thieves! So you got your little whore to steal my family lamp, huh!"
I ran. Poor Mr. Harrington was unfortunately in no such shape to do the same, and he dropped the counterfeit lamp onto the street once Bob pummeled him with his cane. I headed back to William's and told him and the genie of the mission's success.
"Excellent," William said and kissed me.
"To be honest," I told him, "I'm surprised that you aren't trying to squeeze me out of the picture and keep the genie all to yourself."
"This genie has enough power to entertain both of us," William said, "and I don't want to go on this adventure by myself."