Here's the next chapter as promised. Shawn teaches Church a new game in this chapter. It's a game I wish someone would play with me. I wonder if you'd like to play. Let me know. I hope you enjoy the chapter and the game!
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36
A Debate and a Game
I woke up late the next morning, after seven, which is late for me. It was Sunday and we had nowhere to be. Shawn was in the kitchen, programming breakfast. He was wearing briefs and nothing else. My hunger stirred but not for eggs and bacon. Shawn felt my hunger. He flushed, gripped the countertop, and shook his head. "No...no, no, no! No more! It hasn't even been twenty-four hours. How can you want to go again?"
"How could I not with you around?" I sat up in bed so I could get a better view. "You're like a walking Viagra. Besides, you're young and fit and I haven't felt this good in over a decade. Come to think about it, me feeling good is your fault. Why'd you tune the engine if you didn't want to go for a ride?"
Shawn stared for a second, then closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "You are a silly ass." He went back to the touch screen, canceled his original order and programmed something different. He marched to the closet, gathered clothes, and headed toward the bathroom. He paused by the bed. "Your breakfast will be ready in a minute. Eat every bite. I'm going to shower...ALONE. When I finish, I will eat while you clean up and dress. We are leaving this apartment this morning." His instructions issued, he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.
I considered having some filthy fantasies to try and push enough lust along our link to get his motor running. I'd almost decided to do just that when the bathroom door swung open to reveal Shawn's naked body seductively posed. His back was pressed to the latch side of the door jamb, his right leg, closest to me, was bent and his foot flat against the jamb and in line with his back. He looked at me, bedroom eyes and pouting lips. He ran his right hand sensuously down his torso and let it disappear into his crotch behind his bent leg.
He unfolded the leg, sticking it straight out from his body, and he flexed the muscles that he knew I liked best. They bulged and corded under his glistening white skin. He lowered his foot to the floor and turned toward me, his hands hiding his package. "We'll go for a nice long ride, later on." He grabbed the door knob, pulled the door shut, and locked it.
"YOU'RE KILLING ME!" I shouted my frustration at the locked door. Shawn's emotions changed, from naughty to proud that he'd managed to tease me. He'd done more than just tease. He'd dumped gasoline on my burning lust, then blasted it with a fire extinguisher. I was tempted to unlock the bathroom door with magic and storm the shower stall, but I controlled myself. I reasoned, he's all but promised, if I give him the day he wants, he'll give me the night I want. I guess I can wait.' I looked down at the good morning' tent in my briefs. "Settle down, Junior." I said to my swollen member. "Have to save it for later." The culinarian chimed and it was time for breakfast.
With my lust on hold, my physical hunger became the immediate priority. I went to the open automatic door on the culinarian to see what was for breakfast. Shawn had programmed greasy, breaded fried chicken and waffles swimming in butter and syrup. The coffee that went with it was a milkshake of cream and sugar. I dumped the coffee out and got a cup of plain black. I was willing to do everything I could to keep my weight up, but I had to draw the line at adulterating my coffee. I didn't hold many things sacred, but black coffee was near the top of that short list. Everything else about the meal was welcome. I dug in.
"What do you want to do?" Shawn asked as we hit the street a little after nine-thirty. There was a light breeze that tossed Shawn's hair into his face. He took a white tie from his pocket and secured his hair into a loose ponytail. The wind tossed my hair as well. I tried to tie it up like he had, but I was still unused to the action and had to ask him for help.
Shawn was dressed conservatively in a yellow pullover shirt, white pants, and orange heels. The clothes fit him, but didn't show him off like some of his other outfits I'd seen him wear. I wore my light-blue / royal-blue suit that was rapidly becoming my favorite. The clothes reminded me of my weight loss. I had to cinch the pants tighter to keep them on and the shirt-front hung lower than it used to.
I pushed my hands in my pants pockets and my jacket flapped open behind my arms. "I don't know. Nothing physical, that's for shit sure. What do you do when you're not climbing walls? Are there museums or sporting events or something?"
Shawn checked his phone. "It's Sunday, and Sunday is a day for socializing outdoors, so most of the parks will be hosting some kind of event. They have all sorts of stuff. Each park has a venue of some kind, a sports field, or a wall for climbing, or a track for running, or a playground, or an amphitheater for plays or lectures. There will be events at some of them almost every day, but on Sundays, they're all active. Let's see...there's a Puer Sphera match at the park two units over." He paused and scrolled some more.
I used the pause in Shawn's list of activities to search the Shawn reference book in my mind to see what Puer Sphera was. I remembered Bem once comparing my penis to a Puer Sphera club, but I didn't know what that meant, and I'd been too embarrassed at the time to search for the meaning of his jibe. Now that Shawn had mentioned what I assumed was a sport, I thought about it to see what it was. Shawn's memories told me that Puer Sphera was a team sport played with a club like a cricket bat, a red ball, and two teams, one fielding and one batting. It would have been easy to compare the sport to baseball or cricket, but it wasn't possible. Shawn's memories of the game were muddled and displayed the fact that he didn't really understand the game. It seemed that there was a basic framework of rules that could be added to or modified by a third-party game master who was one-quarter umpire, one-quarter referee, one-quarter time keeper, and one-half puppeteer.
The fact that those quarters and halves added up to one-and-a-quarter was appropriate because of the insanity inherent to the position. This official would manage the game and change the rules every period to suit the game play and his or her own whims. The scoring was mostly arbitrary and unintelligible to most people. Puer Sphera was a game played for the sake of playing. People cheered individual plays instead of wins and losses.
In fact, there was a professional Puer Sphera league, but personnel for each team was selected from the whole of the league for each individual match. Since the teams changed for each game, no statistics were possible and no performance records were kept. Teams didn't win or lose. They came together to play the game for a prescribed period, to entertain themselves and the crowd, then they all left as friends having had fun and taken pleasure in physical accomplishment.
The whole concept left me scratching my head. I assumed we'd have to watch a match for me to have any chance at understanding the game, but I wasn't terribly interested in seeing a sporting event that day. Shawn finished his scrolling and went on with his list.
"There's a lecture on dealing with stress at a park in the other direction," he scrolled some more, and saw something that excited him. "There's a debate on the existence of a higher power. I've been curious about the idea. Can we go to that?"
The subject wasn't one I liked, but Shawn was excited, so I buried my distaste as not to spoil his fun. "How far?" I asked.
Shawn did some more scrolling and tapping. "Three miles, a little less; it starts at eleven."
"Good, let's walk."
He checked his phone for directions and we set off. We were a few blocks into the journey when I realized I'd been the one to suggest a three-mile walk. `Who the hell are you and what have you done with Church?' I asked myself. There was no denying how good I felt and how much energy I had. I felt like I was Shawn's age again. I think I felt even better than I had when I was in my twenties, because I discovered there was pleasure in moving my body around.
I floated a nut from the bag in my pocket and crunched on it. The only downside to my new state-of-affairs was the constant hunger. Despite the massive meals I put away, I still had to snack more or less continuously. It was getting to be such a habit, that I didn't even have to think about it. My magic became an automatic feeding system, like mid-air refueling for a jet, but less flashy. The eating was becoming less of a chore, but only because I was constantly distracted with activity. "I've never been to a debate. What's it like?" I asked.
Shawn strode with purpose as he explained, talking with his hands. His enthusiasm animated him to the point where some passers-by shrank away from his broad gestures. "Oh, they're great! Two people on opposite sides of an issue get a half hour each to make their case to the audience. There's a ten minutes question and answer period after each speech. Then they debate each other for another half-hour with a moderator. At the end, the moderator asks the crowd to cheer for who they think made the better argument."
"What's the point?"
"It's entertainment that makes you think. The debaters are usually retired professors, authors, politicians, celebrities with strong opinions; some of them do this kind of thing for a living. They go all over and argue. I went to one last year where two astronomers debated the existence of parallel worlds." He chuckled. "I cheered for the one who argued against."
It was an interesting concept, this public debate idea. It didn't exactly mesh with my idea of fun, but that definition had been changing a lot since I met Shawn. If someone would have asked me if I'd ever get enjoyment out of climbing shit, I would have laughed in their face. Maybe this will be good.' I thought. I don't think much of the topic though. I could have this debate inside my own head.'
Our walk took us through a shopping district where the Sunday crowds made discussion difficult. I stopped at a cafŽ with a service window open to the sidewalk and got a coffee for me and a black tea with milk for Shawn. We continued until we found ourselves on quieter residential blocks. These were still busy, but not as much.
"What is the accepted position on God?" I asked as I sipped my coffee. "Is there one?"
"The accepted wisdom is there isn't. The beginning of the universe and the foundation of all magic is called `The Spark.' It's not an existence, it's an energy. Life was an accident and when we're dead, that's it. There's been a movement to revive the ancient faiths, though there isn't much information still around about them. A lot of people are attracted to the idea of life after death."
I chewed on that like a piece of gristly steak. I always thought the concept of an afterlife was a nice fairy tale, but not one I subscribed to. I must have been grumbling in my head because Shawn picked up the negativity. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing...well, not nothing." This was a discussion that would take several days to have properly. It was also one I wasn't ready to have with him. I evaded. "I'm not going to spoil your fun with my bullshit. Don't worry about it."
"We don't have to go..."
"Shawn, it's fine. I am actually a little interested to see how they explain it here. I'll try to keep an open mind, and I'll try not drown you in anxiety." Shawn made a few more offers to find another activity, but I refused them all.
We got to the park in good time to get seats. The venue was great, a natural amphitheater carved from an outcropping of brown sandstone. The seating rose at a shallow angle from the stage as a stepped series of horizontal one-hundred-and-eighty-degree arches. I guessed its capacity was around fifteen-hundred. The stage was just large enough for the two opposing podiums and a desk for the moderator.
The day was beautiful; bright blue sky, light breeze, about seventy degrees. People crowded into the amphitheater filling it to capacity. The overflow gathered to stand at the top of the outcropping. We sat in the bottom third of the seating, a little left of center. The seats were a little low for my height, but there was plenty of leg room, even for me. Men and women in all-black sold peanuts, popcorn, cold drinks, and cold sandwiches. I bought some stuff and asked Shawn why the vendors were dressed in black.
"That way they stand out." He said like it was obvious.
I looked around at the box of crayons I sat among; the people in black certainly stood out. `I guess if you wanted to rob a bank, you'd dress in hot pink to blend.' I thought with a smile.
The event started on time with the moderator, a very short, forceful woman in a green pants-suit. She introduced the topic and the debaters. Mister Aedifacio, a theologian and historian, argued in favor of the existence of a higher power while Miss Erudio, a scientist and philosopher, argued against. As God was a new idea to most people, Mister Aedifacio went first.
The man was in his late middle age, conservatively dressed, and bookish. A pompadour of salt and pepper hair graced his large head and an orange suit struggled to slim his overweight body. He had a soothing, deep voice that spoke with authority. He carried a black tablet to the podium and gestured with its stylus as he spoke. He had a habit of breaking his sentences into pieces and facing different sides of the crowd as he said each.
"The subject of (left face) a being greater than ourselves, (right face) a `god' if you will, (left face) is a complex matter."
He used every bit of his thirty minutes to lay out a very convincing version of the argument for intelligent design. Basically, the world is so complex, and everything works together so well, it must be the result of a great intellect. This benevolent being created the universe and everything in it. He did it for the benefit of mankind. He looks out for his people and will grant them everlasting life when they die. To support his argument, the man referenced ancient texts that sounded suspiciously like The Bible. He also relied heavily on the assumption that his argument made sense and therefore had to be accepted as accurate.
Shawn loved the man's speech. "He's right!" Shawn gushed. "How could all this happen by accident? Some force has to be behind it and that force has to be intelligent. It's not much of a leap to think that force is concerned with our well-being."
I rubbed my face, pulled my watch off, and stretched it out. `Youth is so easily convinced by a pretty story.' I thought.
"I can tell you don't agree." Shawn said to me, his enthusiasm dampened by my negative feelings.
I asked an `elephant in the room' question. "If your all-powerful force is so concerned, what the fuck am I doing here?"
That brought him up short. "That's true..." he trailed off and retreated into his thoughts.
Members of the audience stood to ask questions. The moderator acknowledged them and monitored the time. Most of the questions were patronizing; asked by people who wanted to believe. The answers that Aedifacio gave were just as obvious and patronizing. I sat, grinding my teeth until I couldn't take it anymore. I stood to be recognized. Shawn worried when I stood up and tried to pull me back down, but I wouldn't let him. I wondered where the worry came from, what he thought I was going to do, but I didn't stop to ask.
The moderator pointed to me. I folded my watch inside my left hand, took a deep breath, and reminded myself not to be rude or to make a spectacle of myself. "Mister Aedifacio, where do we go when we die?"
The bookish man waved his stylus in front of his face like it was the pendulum of a metronome. "Why to paradise, of course." He turned to take another question, but I didn't let him.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" He parroted.
I folded my arms over my chest and doubled-down on my question. "Yes, why do we get to go to paradise? Do we all get to go, or are there requirements?"
Aedifacio was affronted, but tried not to show it. "The great power isn't petty. He does not pick and choose. We are all his creations, therefore we all get to go." He tried to move on again, but I raised my voice to stop him.
"What if I'm a murderer?" I asked. A murmur went through the crowd. Shawn tugged desperately on the hem of my jacket to get me to stop. I ignored him.
Aedifacio peered along his prominent nose at me. "A murderer, sir? Perhaps you mean a soldier or member of the police who sometimes must kill to protect. In those instances..."
I cut him off. "No. I'm talking about a cold-blooded killer."
He dropped the stylus with a clatter and ran his fingers around the rim of the podium. He seemed to be stalling. "Then, sir, you would not get to go." Aedifacio didn't bother trying to move on. He recognized I wasn't done, and that I was too damn big to ignore.
"Then what would become of my everlasting soul?"
"The ancient texts tell of a place of punishment for those who are wicked or unnatural."
I was pleased with his response and smiled in spite of myself. His answer put me on very solid and very familiar ground. "Who decides what it means to be unnatural?" I asked.
"Sir?"
"Follow me for a minute. I assume that any normal biological functions would be considered natural. That means sex between a man and a woman for the purpose of procreation is natural. Following that logic, it could be argued that all sex that isn't for the biological purpose of procreation is unnatural. It would then follow that sex for pleasure is unnatural. Therefore, all homosexual sex is unnatural, as is any act that has no possibility of resulting in conception. Those acts would include oral, anal, and self-pleasure. Thoughts on that?"
Aedifacio held onto the podium like if he let it go, he'd sink into the stage. Another murmur rippled through the crowd. "Time has expired." The moderator announced.
I sat down. "Why did you do that?" Shawn hissed. He was embarrassed that I'd taken over the debate. He seemed to be fighting the urge to get up and leave the event.
"I'm sorry. I got carried away." I pried my hand open and put my watch back on. A red imprint of the non-functional face showed deep in my palm.
"What was all that about unnatural sex? What's wrong with what we do?"
"Nothing, that's the fucking point, but if my parents were here, they'd be telling us both we're damned to hell. Religion is a sword that cuts both ways. It can be a comfort that helps give meaning to people's lives. It can also be a weapon to control those people. I was raised with the weapon and none of the comfort."
I propped my elbows on my thighs and dropped my head in my hands. Shawn's embarrassment had faded to pity. He seemed sorry he'd exposed me to a subject that was at the heart of a large portion of the emotional turmoil I fought with. He rubbed my back. "I guess we should have gone to the ball game instead." I didn't answer. I was sorry that I couldn't get through the event without drowning Shawn in my anxiety, but I didn't think an apology would do any good. I brooded and waited for the event to end.
Erudio launched into an impassioned speech in favor of atheism. I didn't feel like listening, even to someone who I agreed with. I caught enough of the speech to understand that she advanced the theory that if a planet could sustain life, eventually it would. Man evolved through natural selection over millions of years to his current position of dominance in the world.
"Sir." An unfamiliar voice called in a hoarse whisper.
I looked up into the face of a non-descript man in black who wanted my attention. "Come with me please." The man said. Shawn and I rose and followed as he threaded his way through the crowd. I assumed I was being ejected from the event for being mouthy and Shawn was being ejected for being with me.
The non-descript man brought us to a spot behind the stage, deep into what would have been the wings if we were in an actual theater. We were presented to a dumpy man in a burgundy suit with a blue shirt and tie, and a deep frown on his broad, flat face. He had a mop of unkempt, light brown hair that grew out of the back of his head and accentuated an expanse of high forehead that wrinkled to match his frown. He stood with his hands clasped behind him. "Who are you?" the dumpy man asked.
"Church..." I forgot my alias for a moment and stumbled, "Incolumitas...Church Incolumitas." I said and didn't offer my hand.
"What is it that you do, Mister Incolumitas?"
"I'm a wel...uh," I stumbled again, "I work for The HALL."
The dumpy man cleared his throat. He leaned forward and back like he had a kink in his spine he was trying to work out. "In what capacity do you work for The HALL?"
I pictured my hall pass in my head and paraphrased my title from it. "Special consultant to Steward Summas."
He rocked back on his heels and seemed to think aloud. "Indeed...special consultant..." He trailed off and walked in a circle around himself. He stopped to frown at me some more. "You are an educated man?" He prompted.
"I am a tradesman."
He rocked on his heels some more. "Indeed, sir." He had a conversation with himself while he looked at me. "A tradesman who is also a special consultant...certainly an intelligent man...a logical man." He made his mind up about something and spoke to me again. "It is a nice day. I assume you agree it is a nice day?"
What the fuck is he up to?' I wondered. Nice day? What?' The dumpy man's frown faltered and he seemed to almost grin with mischief. It dawned on me that I was being tested. I attempted to rise to the veiled challenge. "You're stating an opinion." I offered.
The dumpy man's frown deepened to a mean scowl. "No, sir. It is a fact that the day is very nice."
"What's your criteria?" I replied, deliberately keeping the challenge out of my voice. "I find the day horrid."
"Horrid!" He blustered. "It is a perfect day to be outdoors."
"You are still stating opinion." I gently corrected the dumpy man. "You think it's perfect. I disagree. I wanted to go skiing. I think the day is horrid. It's horrid for skiing."
The dumpy man actually grinned for a split second before resuming his frown. "Have you ever debated? Would you consider an engagement to debate in this forum? I am Hice, the organizer of these events. You seem to have a knack for this...destroyed the arguments of that dreamer down there and did it with a few carefully constructed questions. What do you think, sir?"
I thought it was hysterical. I thought it was hysterical enough to go along with. "I think it would be fun to debate. I have an assignment that will keep me occupied for the next several weeks or maybe a little more. Could I contact you after and maybe set something up?"
"That is acceptable, sir." Hice nodded with his whole body. "I look forward to hearing from you Mister Incolumitas."
We swapped contact information and parted company. Shawn and I exited the venue and strolled through the park toward the exit, talking as we went.
Shawn was shocked at my exchange with Hice. "You're going to debate?" He asked.
I shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
"What would you debate, religion?"
I laughed at his worry. "I could debate anything. Take a position on anything and I'll argue with you."
"What if it's something you don't know anything about?"
"Then I'll attack the merits of my opponent's case. I'll look for flaws in his logic and jump on them."
"But..."
We exited the park and strolled the residential district toward the shopping area and lunch. I tried to elaborate on my ability to argue. "I'm a construction worker and I'm gay. I had to be on my toes every second to keep from being found out. Contractors are traditionally male, manly men who would rather die than be thought of as queer. Quick wit is your only defense. It taught me to pay very close attention when people try to sell their ideas. That guy earlier, the theologian, he believed because he wanted to, not because he had good reason to. Those guys are the easiest to break down. Anyone who takes a position because it feels good, has taken that position for the wrong reasons."
"What if you agree with them?"
"I can't agree with illogical people. I can agree with their position, but if their reasons are weak, I'll attack them just as hard as if I didn't agree. I have a mechanical mind. I like knowing how machinery works. I think that's what makes me a logical person. The logic of an argument has to mesh like the cogs in a transmission. When they don't, the argument can't move forward."
We walked a while in silence, silence except for my constantly munching jaws. Shawn didn't bring the subject up again until we were sitting in a cafe waiting for our meals. "You don't think there is a higher power?"
"I don't know." I admitted. "Maybe there is. My faith is tangled up with the religion I was raised in. I abandoned my faith in religion and with it went my faith in anything else. I don't believe in a god like that guy described. Maybe there is something out there. Is it a warm, caring, father figure that takes care of us and knows everything? I don't buy that."
Shawn fiddled with his ice water; the cubes made little tinkling sounds as they moved in the glass. "Doesn't that make all this kind of hollow? If there's no point and nothing after this?"
My former fatalism joined the conversation. "You forget that up until a couple weeks ago, I was looking forward to oblivion. Ask me in six months, maybe I'll have a different answer."
Sour anxiety drifted to me over our link. Shawn stared into the table and clutched the water glass. "Do you believe I'll be able to?"
I touched his fingers, wet and cool from the condensation on the glass. He dragged his eyes to mine. "I'm starting to think so. Neb is smart and capable, Bem is capable and I think deadly under the teasing, you're an amazing doctor, and I've got this power plant inside me. I mean, I fucked up a whole mountain yesterday. Taking care of one little demon king should be like swatting a mosquito."
Shawn's anxiety broke, and calm settled in. He smiled. "If you're optimistic, we've already won."
"Good." I looked passed him to see our waiter struggling with an overloaded tray. "Looks like our food is here. Let's eat."
We ate, then window shopped around the stores on both sides of the block. When there wasn't any more to look at, we went home. I was too early to eat, but too close to dinner time to start any other extra-curriculars. I sat on the couch and flipped on the TV. Shawn busied himself doing something. The closet door opened, the built-in drawers opened and shut, the closet door shut, and he came to sit with me. He passed between me and the screen on his way to sit down. He was nude and I was surprised.
"Uh, Shawn...I'm not complaining...but..."
"Why am I naked?" He finished my thought. "I thought you might like this. Roeb and I did this sometimes. It's a game I read about somewhere. You take your clothes off and do whatever; watch TV, eat, read, talk. In between, you touch, tease, kiss, anything you want. The goal is to drive the other person as crazy as you can without getting them off. Whoever makes their partner orgasm first, loses."
"What does the winner get?"
Shawn bit his full lower lip and hit me with that up-from-under look that drives me wild. "The winner gets whatever he wants."
I jumped up and went to the closet to disrobe. "Should I shower?" I asked as I tossed things in the hamper.
"No. We might shower later, as part of the game, but we didn't sweat today."
I returned to the couch. He leaned into me and breathed. "I like the way you smell at the end of the day, especially without the cigarettes. Shower fresh is nice, but then you smell like soap. Now you smell like you."
"I'm glad you said that. I LOVE the way you smell. I thought it made me a creep."
"Not at all. I'm glad you like my scent." He shifted the way he was sitting so his face was closer to mine. "I like the way you taste to. Kiss me."
I kissed him, tasted him, felt the heat of his body. The kiss ended, I pulled away. Shawn's eyes searched my face, looking for I don't know what. He shook his head. "No." In one graceful motion, he went from sitting next to me, to straddling my lap facing me. "Kiss me until it's time to eat." He pressed his body to mine, held my head, and took my mouth.
My hands automatically reached for him. `He is so going to lose.' I thought.
I was wrong, so very wrong. Shawn was an expert at sensuality. He kept me simmering until dinner. We ate a light meal, then moved to the bed. In seconds I was boiling, and he kept me that way for what felt like hours. He drove me to the point where I didn't even have rational thoughts. He turned me into a quivering, whimpering mass of need. I had no way to respond or to tease him. Shawn was in complete control, and he was having a blast.
Occasionally he would slow down to let me breathe, let me come back from the edge, let my rational thought return, before he turned the heat up again. It took two or three of those intervals for me to come up with a plan. The fourth time he slowed down enough for me to think, I grabbed him.
I couldn't turn the tables to make him into the quivering bowl of gelatin he'd turned me into. He'd driven me too far for me to maintain control long enough to do that, but I could end the game. I used my greater size to pin Shawn to the mattress so I could finish him. I didn't do it gracefully or sensuously, but I did it quickly.
I held him down with my hands on his shoulders and my knees next to his hips, so my calves pinned down his legs, and I stroked him with my magic. It was the first time I'd used my power on his `sensitive bits.' I wished I could have savored the feeling, but I was too crazy with lust to enjoy myself. Shawn writhed in pleasure as I pushed him over the edge, his climax painting us both as he cried out. His orgasm almost dragged me over the edge with him...almost but not quite.
I rolled onto my back, releasing him so he could catch his breath. He pushed himself up on his knees and hovered over me. He looked like pure sex. Fresh sweat glistened on his skin, his still-hard cock bobbed invitingly, and a thick rope of white cum streaked from his naval to the front of his right shoulder. The room reeked of sweat and cum. The sweat slicked body hair that coated my stomach and chest was unevenly frosted with the rest of his load. I was so hard, it was painful. I needed to cum so badly, every second that went by without release was torture.
Shawn grinned at me. The grin reminded me of his uncle's Cheshire Cat smile. It made me nervous. "Good strategy." He said in a way that let me know there was a `but' coming. "But giving up like that, means I win. Let's see," he stroked his chin dramatically, "what do I want for my prize?" He leaned over me, his face in mine, his words brushing my skin. "I want to see just how crazy I can make you."
He leaned back to put his body on display for me again. He used his right palm to smear the cum from his stomach, up to his chest, gathering the cream in his palm as he went. He showed me the handful of frosting he'd gathered in his palm, then reached down and smeared it across my face, from my left cheek to my right, passing over my gasping, open mouth as he went. I tasted his essence on my lips and tongue, the scent of it filled my nose even more than before. He bent down, with his face in mine. He breathed into my mouth and kissed me.
He kissed me with his hot, sucking mouth and I knew I was in trouble. I almost gave up and finished myself. The emotions I felt from him stopped me. He felt lusty and powerful. More than that, he was getting off on how much I burned for him, how much I craved him and the release he could give me. My last rational thought before he turned the heat up again was, `if this is what it means to belong to him...OH GOD!'
Ending the game was the best and the worst thing I could have done. It was the best because it removed the rules from his actions, and the worst for the same reason. Now that he didn't have to hold back his own orgasms, he used sex as part of my torture. He did things, used me, fucked me...more than once. I had to watch jealously as he climaxed three more times before he finished me. When he finally allowed me to climax, my orgasm was epic; Fourth of July fireworks, New Year's Eve elation, and Christmas morning all rolled together. Every nerve in my body hummed with electricity. I convulsed like an epileptic fish, yanked from the water in the middle of a seizure, and dropped in the bottom of the boat to flop around among the tackle and empty beer cans.
Shawn propped himself on his elbow to watch me shake. When I settled down enough, he set a hand in the center of my chest. My heart hammered from the adrenalin, and I gulped in air to recover from the mind-blowing pleasure. "Good?" He asked.
"FUCK...OH...GOD...I uh...I uh...FUCK!"
An aftershock went through me like a jolt of high voltage. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. After a while, my breath steadied and my heart slowed, and my mind started working again. "Holy shit, Shawn. Where the fuck did you learn to do that? I feel like I saw God and he fucked my brains out. FUCK!"
"I'm glad you liked it." He grinned and glowed with pride. "No one has ever lasted that long. Roeb would get tired of the game and get himself off. You were amazing. I felt you, it was like you begged me to finish you, but you begged me to keep going. I can't believe you lasted like that."
"What time is it?" I asked and wondered if it was even the same day.
"Almost ten. I've been edging you for more than four hours, not counting dinner."
I pulled him into me and held him tight. "Save that one for special occasions, huh? I mean WOW, the finale was grand, but the build-up was torture."
"Why didn't you stop me?" He whispered, worried that he'd gone too far.
"You were having too much fun and after a certain point, it became a mission to last as long as you wanted me to."
He leaned back far enough to kiss the end of my nose. "Thanks. You want to clean up?"
I rolled my head against the pillow to signify the negative. "In the morning. My legs are rubber, and I don't think you're up to carrying me. How about a kiss and a quick knock out?"
He kissed my mouth and stroked my face with his love and his soft hand. "Perfect." He said and my lights went out.