COLLEGE COEDS OF THE CORN
Part VII: Ritual
Tom Miller moaned, mindlessly, animalistically, repeatedly, as he felt a pair of small, soft lips kiss the swollen head of his cock. He instinctively recognized the pattern, but it was hard to say that he was
thinking
about it. He didn't think about much anymore.
For the past week he had been tied up in the barn. He was given enough water and food to keep him going. Other than that, whether he was awake or asleep, he was caught up in a sexual cycle that hadn't made any sense before he'd let his brain shut down, and certainly now had just become an external part of the rhythm of his body's functions.
After the streetside orgy he and Diane had been dragged humping and moaning into, the next thing he had remembered had been waking up in the barn, surrounded by dozens of other faces he recognized from town. During that first day, they had hurriedly networked among each other and realized that other than a couple of missing individuals all the men in town had been gathered and tied up in that barn.
The count had been slowed down by the women circulating among them. When Tom had first awakened in that barn, Jack Paulson next to him had been half-consciously receiving a handjob from a perky-titted woman with a tousled blonde bob haircut and had only joined the conversation after he had watch her plum hips saunter over to Casey Lister and settle directly onto his waiting erection. Jack had transitioned from disconnected from the conversation to complaining about the woman leaving him unfinished to participating in trying to understand what they were all doing there.
Tom had participated from the start, but had been slightly distracted as he had watched a tall, toned, busty black woman with long hair a few "stations" down rubbing Anthony Tapper's dick with her perfectly smooth, achingly perfect breasts. Tom had watched her, and then as he had watched this woman move to her right and begin jerking off Hank Letter he had felt a faint flutter in his stomach as he had come to believe she would be working her way toward him and his fluttering, curious erection.
Once they'd established that basically the whole male population of Stradlin was gathered in that barn, there had been struggles to escape. Younger, stronger men had attempted to break free of the leather bonds holding them down but had ultimately either tired themselves out with failure or been distracted when their turn with one of the women circling the barn had arisen. Tom had watched as Rocky Collins, a young farmhand who seemed the likeliest to be able to snap his leather straps, had given up in frustration, then tried to take that frustration out on the tall black woman as she left Anthony Tapper and started trying to lick Rocky's dick. His attempts to strike her with his knees, swiveling around on his tied ankles to do so, hadn't deterred her, and before long even the angry young man down the line had found himself moaning at her tongue's work. Rocky had gotten so into it he had started aggressively dirty talking to the woman, cursing and saying things like "Yeah, I hope you choke on the massive load I'm gonna blow down your throat!" and "Suck it you little whore, untie me and see what that big stick can do to your pussy you bitch!"
When the beautiful ebony woman had left Rocky behind to move over to John Freeman, Rocky had first started cursing and trying to swing his legs at her, then had resorted to asking, then ultimately begging her to come back to him and finish him off.
By this point, though, it was becoming clear: these women were
very
zealous in their work, and several of them were very clearly and vocally enjoying that work, but they had no intention of fully satisfying any of the men in that barn.
Still, Tom had clung to the idea that he would be different. He had been sure that, as excited as he felt watching the woman's dark, glistening skin as she glided through the barn, an angel incarnate bestowing her blessings on all those less deserving men, he would be so eager to blow his load that he would be able to unload it before she could stop herself. Tom had psyched himself up as she approached, confident that if he could build his excitement as high as he could before she had reached him that her merest touch would set him off.
Someone deeper in the barn had been yelling, sounding as though there had been something to fear back there, but all Tom had feared was not getting the fullest possible excitement out of the steadily approaching woman. Someone nearby had been talking to him, but he had already, to a certain extent, given into the situation, no longer caring what these women's true intentions might have been and as long as he got his turn.
He had thought briefly on his wife, but the last thing he'd remembered of Diane was her reaching hand holding the head of the girl licking her special place and still moaning with loud, public satisfaction even as Tom's vision had gone black. He'd had a strong feeling -- and correctly so -- that wherever she was, she was still enjoying herself as much as when he'd last seen her. In fact, as he had watched his ebony obsession pull her mouth off of John Freeman's disappointed erection, Diane was getting her first taste of Isaac Chroner's inhuman erection and not at all thinking of where her husband might be right then.
When the dark-skinned woman had stopped in front of him, staring down with a blank look on her face, Tom had become worried that she had seen how eager he was to feel her and was going to pass him by. He had considered preemptively begging, but just as he'd been widening his eyes desperately the woman had leaned forward, lifting one of her dark nipples up to his lips and letting him taste her skin, the salty taste of her exertions exhilarating on his taste buds as he had flicked her firm flesh with his tongue until she had given a light moan over his head.
And when she had pulled her breast from his mouth, he had feared that that was all she was going to give him, a taste and nothing more, not even her knee brushing his raging boner as she stood up straight. He had once again prepared himself to beg when she had turned around, her plump, juicy ass swaying right at his eye level for a moment before slowly lowering itself onto his lap.
Tom's mouth had hung open as he watched her descent, catching a glimpse of pink before it had disappeared beneath the curve of her ass, finding it again with an altogether different sense as her wet lips had landed their mark right on his reaching, eager cockhead. Someone had been saying his name, others had been cursing and yelling around him, but all of his senses had been attuned to the stranger settling her weight onto his cock.
As soon as he had gotten completely inside that tight, burning pussy, she had leaned her body back against him, wrapping her arms around his head and beginning to move her hips in ways that Diane never had. He had thought of his wife again, and decided that if he got to blow his load inside this perfect figure slowly swiveling her ass on his lap he didn't care if Diane rode every man in town. Hell, if he had seen her working her way through that barn he would have told her to have fun and they'd trade notes later.
He never saw his wife in that barn, though, and he didn't bust his load inside that woman, either. He didn't bust his load all week, his mind growing more and more lost as he became part of a whirlpool of sexual energy in that barn. Tom became so enraptured with the sensations he felt that week that he began to see through to the other side, the ghostly figures that haunted the Reverie and their unending orgiastic flights that these figures took through reality. He even began to see the altered shadows that followed every girl through the barn, the distillations of their minds, bodies, and spirits into purely sexual beings reflected against the clouded backdrop of reality. When one of the women put his cock in their mouth, he saw the second mouth that drank of him and took something more. When one of the women wrapped her legs around him and the pole to which he was tied and humped him, he saw that his dick was penetrating one body and another spirit. When another woman spread her cheeks and pressed him into her tight asshole, he saw the brilliant explosion of shapes and colors beyond the veil that accompanied this new experience.
His dark-skinned angel had guided him through the gate, and now whenever she cycled through to him he saw that she was perfectly attuned to the shadow behind her. There was no division between body, mind, or spirit, and when he entered her he entered the entirety of her at once.
Tom understood these things instinctually, but when Brett tried to get him to explain the situation in the barn, he could only roll his eyes and moan, feeling the gentle strokes of the spirits as they aroused the deeper part of his own spirit connected to the Reverie while he waited for his next turn being touched in body. If his wife could have seen him, she would have seen a familiar change coming over him: the growth of his cock, not so large as that which Isaac boasted but striving to fill itself up with the energies the Reverie had to offer, growing so that by the time Brett arrived to observe what Tom Miller had become the speechless man was hardly ever left alone, the women seeing and feeling in him the piercing touch of the Reverie so that no visitor bothered to jerk him, or suck him, or titfuck him; no, in that barn he had become special, a station above the others whose cock was now devoted entirely to filling the graced pussies of those who tended the men within the barn.
