Impudicitia

by Sealey De Boc

The grey wool robe I wore was much too warm for the late summer weather.  I was in exile, heading towards the pirate city of Port Vegas.  It seemed as though I was running into angry mobs of people wherever I went.  My face was easily recognized because of all those damned rotten billboards all over the old country with my face pasted on them, smiling like an idiot and making empty quotes of peace and happiness under my rule.  I fled Pittsburgh after the failure of my reign and the birth of the Free States.  How truly free were these people I will never know.  I had reached an old monastery in the middle of the night and begged for a bed and a moment of shelter from the wizened old men.  They gave me words from their god and some hot broth to drink, I only hoped they wouldn't cut my throat as I slept in the barn.  I had once been a strong warrior and a handsome emperor; I was still confused about how my life had taken a sudden and harsh turn for the worst.

At dawn, I woke up and brushed all of the hay from my robe. I found myself face to face with a young man, maybe a young monk or maybe just a stable boy, I couldn't tell.  He must have been about half my age, he was muscularly defined but sweet faced with soft brown hair.  For a moment he seemed to think he was gazing face to face with a ghost until I broke the silence.

“Here now, I mean no harm. I’m just passing through.” My voice was rough from the recent sleep.

“Of course, forgive me, I did not believe it was really you standing here… in this barn.” His voice was deep enough to be a man’s voice, yet his face was still the cherub’s. “The Free People believe you to be some kind of fiend. That you are possessed by evil spirits and committing the most insidious crimes.  However, I am not one to pass judgement. I am just a simple man.”

“Your god passes the judgement, no?” I raised my eyebrow and scratched my beard to give an insinuation of sarcasm. “I used to be a god. I used to be the judge of all. Now here I am, nothing but a simple man just as you are standing here, in this barn.”

“You speak as though you are indeed possessed.” I could see him working many thoughts in his mind.  I stepped closer to him.

“You know nothing of possession…” I breathed the words and touched his cheek with my finger tips.  He backed away with a simple look of shock, not disgust.  I hooked my hand behind his neck and wrenched his face so close to mine I could feel his quickened breaths on my lips.  “My judgements have always been eternal.” With my other hand I brought my hunting knife to his cheek, the glistening metal sparkled in the morning light.  His eyes never lost contact with mine and he showed no true fear.

“My convictions are not the same as those of the monks with whom I live. I say, let God judge me after life at the gates but He shall not make the judgements in my life.”  The boy’s hand reached up and mimicked me by touching my face in the same way I did, and then he reached down to my groin and cupped my cock and balls gently.
“Who is the fiend possessed by evil spirits now?” I asked softly.

With one swift movement I removed my wool robe and underneath I wore a kind of peasant shirt and cotton breeches.  I grabbed the boy by his shoulders and spun him around and smashed him between the nearest wall and my body.  I held his jaw in my hand and twisted his face until his eyes could once again lock with mine.  If he knew his struggles lead me on with ever stronger fervor, I knew not; he struggled only enough to stoke my fire.  His short staccato breaths rushed past his clenched teeth with tiny droplets of saliva.  His small brown eyes pooled moisture but his gaze did not falter nor did he ever show fear.  I dropped my knife to my feet to free my hand and undo the buttons on the front of his breeches.  My left forearm was pressed across his shoulders and his face was turned and against the wall.  His pants fluttered to the dirty barn floor and left his legs and buttocks exposed.  I took several moments to grab handfuls of flesh and squeeze mercilessly.  My fingers left soft pink marks on his skin where they had dug so deeply.  I was groaning now because I could feel that spectacular swell in my groin.  The ache between my legs was becoming a throb of urgency.  I thrust my pelvis against his buttocks and drank in the pleasure of my hardened cock pressed against his tender body.  I raked my fingers through his hair and deeply inhaled the scent that was the essence of him.  Beads of sweat had appeared on the boy’s forehead.

I grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled his head backwards, his mouth was gaping, and his breath was haggard.  I put three fingers in his mouth and tugged at his cheek.  I wiggled my fingers in the wetness between his tongue and cheek.  He set his gaze onto my hidden and erect cock and his face was as easy to read as a book of hymns.  I let go of his head and he spun around and landed on his knees, face to face with my manhood.  Once again I tousled his hair and pulled it gently between my fingers, his eyes were darting between mine and my breeches.  He pulled at a couple buttons, but didn’t completely release my pants.  His hand was on a search and rescue mission for my exigent cock that reached for freedom.  And I was free at last.  Without a moment of question he held me firm and kissed the tip with his exquisitely moist lips, and it made the most delicate smacking sound.  I did not release his hair from my grip, but the ecstasy sent spasms into my legs and I had to use my other hand to steady myself with the wall.  He kissed me again and again, each time his kiss was deeper, longer, and wetter.  At last his tongue was softly brushing the tip and the underside of the shaft.  His strong grip pulled on it from the base to his lips.  I longed for more of his mouth and less of his hands, though I very much enjoyed his hands.  I hooked the back of his neck, as I had done before, and this time brought his head and the entire facial aperture down onto my shaft.  His lips locked in a tight “O” and his tongue forced into submission, and I beat his throat with the tip of my cock.  I was lost in the pleasure feeling that suction come from his throat.  He made an array of groans and gasps and each one was like another one of his new fluttering kisses.  It seemed that his whole body was suckling at my dick.  I could feel my pleasure was rising to the point of no return with each spasm in my groin.  The world seemed to be shaking and throbbing all around me except for his steady brown eyes looking up at me with dogged determination.

A fistful of his hair felt like the reigns of a race horse in my hand.  I commanded him to stand by pulling on these reigns.  I pushed his face back away from mine and pulled his hips so that his buttocks met with my hips.  He turned his head and looked at me and looked towards his buttocks and a moment of passion caught me; I slapped his face and as he turned away with a barely audible whine, I grabbed his hindquarters with my hands and spread the mounds so that my target was visible.  That little squinting eye of dark flesh called to me. I brushed my thumb over it, feeling the softness of it.  With as much saliva I could gather, I spat on it and with my thumb I pressed into it.  He was hot on the inside.  It was as though I had just slipped my thumb into a fresh and sweet apple pie.  But it was much tighter, even tighter than his succulent mouth.  I shook my whole hand vigorously massaging the orifice and spreading my saliva generously.  I continued this and spat two more times within a few minutes while the boy made tiny sobs and moans.  My aching shaft twitched and tapped against the young scrotum; he was so warm and I wanted to lose myself inside of him.  I grabbed my cock and brought it to the entrance and with the aid of my thumb I pushed inside slowly, and waited for the inevitable acceptance from his body.  The slick saliva lubricated my penetration but it was the tightest threshold I had ever conquered.  I squeezed his rump harder with my hands and slowly pushed myself deeper into him.  He was deliciously hot inside and I was ecstatic to feel that.  I reached around to his face and put my fingers in his mouth once more.  For a moment I truly was filling him from back to front.  I gathered his saliva with my fingers and rubbed the warm moisture into our point of junction.  I began to move in and out of him repeatedly and I listened for the change in his pace of breath; he made sweet sounds balancing on pleasure and pain that pleased me.  I was mounted on top of him and it felt good to push down into him.

I  could not help myself as I sped up my thrusting.  I was gluttonous, and I wanted more. I grabbed at the base of his neck and slammed his body down onto my cock.  We were both calling out and panting like working dogs.  His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and his hair was moistened with it.  The grip of my hands slipped a little each time I thrust him back to myself but I dug my fingers into his skin probably scratching him with my fingernails.  His ass was a plastic portal; if I were to quickly remove my member for a moment I could observe the destruction I was unleashing as a spacious void was left behind where I was moments before. I could probe that hot void with two fingers at least and get no resistance; his body was open for me.  It was glorious the way his entire being was pink from my passions, and I reveled in it.  He held onto the wall with both hands to stabilize himself as I crashed into him over and over.

I could feel my eruption coming.  I could feel it slipping through me on its way to the final release.  All space around us felt surreal and exaggerated and beautiful.  I clapped my hand over his mouth; I wasn’t about to let him make any ugly sounds that might ruin my finish.  He drooled a little on my fingers and I liked that he wasn’t in control of himself.  I wrapped my other arm around his torso in anticipation.  Then, I came.  I released my seed into his hot little body in spurts of ethereal earthquakes that I could feel in my bones.  I held onto him for a few moments as my body calmed into a trance of passion.  As I released him from my grasp he slipped to the floor and paused on his hands and knees.  I braced the wall and monitored my breathing as I watched him do the same in his position.  He looked sublime, pink, used, and glistening.  I squeezed the last drops of semen from my cock and held it on my fingers.  I bent over to the boy who was now slumped to one side, partially propped against the wall, and I savagely shoved my sticky fingers into his mouth and wiped any remaining moisture onto his face.
“Good, my pious son.”  I whispered in his ear.

I buttoned up my trousers and gathered up my grey robe and knife.  My passion may have been spent, but I was refreshed and invigorated that morning as I walked out of that monastery.  I felt cleansed and clear.  I was ready to take on all of the angry mobs between me and Port Vegas if I had to.