Disclaimer: I first ejaculated in a country club steam room to a middle aged man after turning gay from watching Baywatch. I am here to save you from becoming a puppet of the sucubus while Wonder Woman castrates the incubus. Replace sex with the word comfort and you will be fine in any fantasy. +++++++++ "Smile!"
And he does. The cheer from the male body standing next to the female body spiced his breath with approval. This was all he gets to remember of anything in time, to him now, it was how it all began.
At 8, he blushes like a tampon when he hears the word sex. It's as if it has all happened before and now he gets to put the trillion piece puzzle together with a naked body pressing down on him like warm Durex. He repeats the Oxford definition over and over, hoping for the day that he will have sex. Deep down, he mistakes his anger for arousal. He can hear a smile somewhere before he repeats the definition.
2048 Happy birthday Sam! It's your tenth!
Sam knows what to wish for. He has been waiting for 10 years and 8 plus months to make his wish, now that he has the power and wealth of an air particle called Prayer. The luckiest man or boy or whatever in the universe, and the richest any can ever be. All this for one wish.
He looks in the mirror and all the hormones point to hope. Hope under the covers under the shining night sun. It will all come true, he will know the mystery that is sexlove. Then he will become a man. Of course a Prayer hides it well, so to everyone he is just blowing out the candles and opening his presents, showing his guests the right emotion for each gift. After a steam of chit chat, the pasty wishes him a "great night" and drives away into the sunlit night sky. Every skycar that fades into the silver horizon is another layer of unbridled lust raging in his blood. The glass tile in the door reveals exactly what he was working so hard for, but the smile wasn't his. Time for bed.
Jan 1, 2049 Samsun, look who's smoking.
A higher than usual dose of Sleepee worked just the way he wanted. At last, Sam is his real self. The softness of milk and it's colour, nothing pale about that, smooth like marble and blue veins interlacing the stones that curve like silk, supple like honey and sweetness just as moist, magenta nipples that turn into caramel with just the right application of the bite, hills and valleys and a Stonehenge torso, the V of Atlas, two mighty circles by his Everest shoulders and wrists as thick and full of life like the Nile. Almost perfect.
The face, Sam thought, was a reaction he chose to forget and made a reflex choice to bite his soul. Still a 10 year old's. But another look says that this is the image of God, a face full of splendour that men will worship. Yes, the grown up warrior body is gold, but it's nothing without a tenderly carved diamond personage, both ageless and perpetually young. Sam swallows hot liquid and steels himself, which turns into a pleasure able and painful erection. Already the veins are filled with sweet poppy. All he has to do now is Pray. The moment he did, appeared his Inverse, a man with his father's face he can't recall but with all he joy a little boy like him can have with a man who is always in his prime. The smile, Sam remarks, is feminine. But he wanted a man, the masculine, the machismo. The Inverse gently turn the salty stream on the see through chiseled finery and gives him a passionate kiss. Everything around him is spider silk and the Daddy figure starts to make a connection with the stolen child, down the pectorals. It's funny Sam thought that as he gulped down the caffeinated magma that all that came out of his eyes would taste just like that. But never mind, as he thrusted for another world record, it is what I've always wanted. Sam tries to close his eyes.
2050 Sam looks out the window. Everything is smiling back at him the way he smiles at the world. It's a rainbow that hides the horror of feeling unilateral understanding, done both ways and more. He turns to the Ash Board and with his two blue gems he incinerates his rival's face to liquid coal. How can this upstart of a saggy phallic face with the upstairs to match day that he will lose it all if he doesn't rename Prayer to Psalm? What is Psalm? Sam decides to smoke the coal water with some mentholated peppermint. And poppy. He takes out his penis and strokes himself until he can taste the tears it makes. Nothing cures an addiction like that, and nothing like it can keep him from repeating it over and over, since all it does is make it so much more acceptable to Muss. Love has many forms and complexities, he hears. One day he will understand it all. He just needs to patiently try harder in bed. Muss, notifies Sam with a happy emoji that Sam still has hope. Sam cums again.
2055 Sam now is happy. In a flash, a Psalm guy takes over and launches a CIA raid. Muss weeps as he is taken fromtp the loving embrace only he can give. He is now in jail. The real crime is that he can't spend a day with him. So, he makes a way.
The gravity hole 1000 leagues below concrete floor level contains the solution to the senselessness of never knowing the beginning of his life. Dark is a better colour than black and only those with the right kind of life experience can appreciate its beauty. He scratches the body many have said they are sure is beautiful and trusting. Of course by now, an electronic gland in the back of the neck both injects Qalm and emits an iron signal to the cops. Rage,as the Jaysus said is murder which can only be answered with hell.
So this time, he says for once to let the choice make him. And tip whichever way from a cylinder designed to shrink with negativity.
Jan 1, 2049 Look who's smoking!
This time, it wasn't a mirror looking at him. He was still in bed, body under the cottonskin quilt of many flags, but this time, he can feel two arms followed by a face resting from behind. Samson, breathes a sigh of relief as he expurgates by reflex.
"It is Psalm". I am the voice of David.
He turns around, and behold, a very kind man who looks his age, filled with selfless fatherly duty and honour holds him closer. Sam isn't sure anymore what to think. Is he raping me? But he's just like me by the face. Only the eyes disturb him because they are the same specific shade of blue as his. This Psalm, he remarked is really very much a Goliath made of cottonskin, making feel protected and that he will live as himself one more day.
Sam makes one more gamble.
"So, Pslam, when uh do we get to have uh fun with each other? I mean, you know I am too rough for women and I like the hardness and more importantly the mischief a man his eyes say are capable of. I feel that you and I will forever be one in each other's sphincters until we collapse from the liquor of breathing you in. So when?
Samson hears the answer and gives himself totally to Pslam because he told him, "When you are of age. Close your eyes."