David's Star

This is my first attempt at writing erotica and without the assistance of my main editor Karen B it would have been unreadable other editors also looked it over and deemed it worthy of posting so here it goes. I have attempted to cover a story line not seen here before and it's all fiction.

*

"Delivery charges are thirty dollars per item under a hundred pounds, to destinations within thirty miles of the store," I repeated for the fiftieth time that day. I'm not sure what it is about the week before Thanksgiving, but people develop an insatiable need to purchase wooden furniture. Maybe it's something in the water, because the prices certainly aren't any lower.

"No, no, we won't charge you extra if it's thirty one miles." I rolled my eyes, drawing a smirk out of the other clerk.

I'm Ali, and this is Georgetown. I'm here for college, and I live in a small studio apartment near my university, and very close to the furniture store where I toil for long hours behind a counter, answering the same questions day in and day out. I'm also a loner at school with virtually no friends, and have recently discovered that I am bisexual. The items were conveniently absent from the list of things to expect and discover in America that I received from the Study Abroad Office back in Egypt.

I came to America to discover something new. My life at home was certainly very different from this one. I'm the youngest of three boys and have a mother who always said she wished I was a girl. She already had two sons. I don't know if constantly hearing this while growing up had any effect on my sexual identity, but I'm inclined to think it did. She feminized me by taking me shopping with her when she went to buy clothes or to the hair dresser. Occasionally she would do my hair up or let me play with her makeup. Once she taught me to put on stockings. I recall a few times when I was home alone and I would sneak into her things and play dress up.

Not surprisingly, these little tendencies did not set well with my father.

He favored my older brothers for their masculinity, and did not pay me much attention, dismissing me as my mother's responsibility. I was constantly vying for his attention and affection, usually to little or no avail.

On the day before Thanksgiving the store was pretty dead, everyone having satiated their hunger for end tables earlier in the week and set off to stand in security lines at the airport, and I was standing behind the counter watching dust line up in the dwindling sunlight and counting the eternity of minutes until closing.

That's when I saw him.

He was older, and quite distinguished looking. He was about six feet tall, with rich brown hair, and dazzling green eyes. The kind with flecks of brown in it. He had broad shoulders, not the football player kind, but the kind that come from actual labor. His muscular chest filled out his cashmere sweater perfectly, tapered to a narrow waist, and ended with his tight, round ass stretching his trousers almost obscenely, making the crotch of his pants tighten around his ample package. He walked around the store, browsing among the displays with nonchalant, authoritarian air, the globes of his ass switching back and forth like pendulums.

I stood behind the counter, watching him, heat rising in my cheeks and sweat collecting around my collarbone. I felt a stirring in my groin, an ache deep in my abdomen, and as I watched him approach the counter, I felt myself begin to harden. I blushed more deeply.

"Do you have any lamps from the Swift collection?" he asked in a deep baritone. "I need two I saw featured in a magazine to go with the drapes I bought last week. The magazine listed this store as a carrier." He looked me in the eyes directly, his gaze piercing mine, looking into my soul. His eyes left my face and traveled slowly downward over my boyishly narrow chest and waist, and stopped at my crotch. My cock stiffened further. I hoped he wouldn't notice.

He did.

A small smirk formed on his lips as I told him we didn't have any more in stock at the moment, stumbling over my words and faltering under his gaze again and again. My breaths came in shallow bursts as he looked me all over, eyes lingering on my growing erection and my bubble ass, walking around me with power in his aura and sex in his eyes. The heat of his eyes on me and his air of authority were arousing me in ways nothing had previously. He licked his lips and brushed past me to leave the store, his hand brushing over my jeans-covered cock. I let out a barely audible moan.

He heard it, and let out a small chuckle.

"Thank you. I'll be back after the holidays. Perhaps I'll get lucky then."

He sauntered out the door, disappearing from view into the darkness.

I sprinted to the back storeroom to get the keys for lockup and to get control of myself. I swallowed hard, and tried to get my breathing under control. I could still feel his hand brushing against my cock, sending shockwaves up my spine and driving me to a near full erection, my knees weakening and my groin throbbing. After a few more deep breaths and some thoughts about dead puppies, I locked up the store and went out to wait for my bus, thinking about how I would stroke my cock when I got in the shower that night, slowly rubbing and teasing the head until precum was leaking from me like a faucet, and when I could stand it no longer I would cum, hard, thick, viscous squirts erupting from the tip and splattering on the shower door—

And there he was.

Across the street, staring at me, telling me, ordering me not to go home.

I went to the payphone, using it just long enough to miss my bus. He crossed the street and walked up to me.

"You seemed to have missed your bus," he said compassionately, his authoritarian air gone, replaced by a friendly, best-friend's-dad demeanor. "Would you like to come back to my place for a drink? Afterward I would be glad to drive you home. Perhaps you could describe what those lamps look like in person for me." He smiled, his eyes locked with mine, his gaze warm and caring this time instead of lustful and hungry.

I went.

Knowing what his gaze might mean. Where drinks might lead. That I probably wouldn't be going home that night.

I went.

He talked to me. As we walked the short distance to his townhouse, I learned that he was a Jew, Walter Goldberg, and that he was almost fifty. I told him that I was eighteen, barely, and went to a university nearby. I told him how hard it was, being in a foreign country with no friends, no family, no one to share my new life with. He asked me if I had a significant other, a girlfriend perhaps, and I told him no, that I was tall and lanky and skinny and feminine, and did not expect that type of attention. He looked at me, and unreadable look on his face, and said nothing more until we arrived at his home.

He poured us brandy. I hadn't had brandy before, and I liked it and told him so. He smiled and told me stories of his youth, his college days, a failed marriage. I listened intently, captivated by his powerful yet gentle demeanor, his grace, elegance. And his eyes. Dear God, his eyes. They glinted in the firelight as he told me about his life, growing more and more aroused, glazing over as we consumed more alcohol. I began to sweat again. The color rose once more in my cheeks, turning them pink with desire. He gazed at me hotly, having stopped mid sentence to stare at my crotch, which was swelling slightly from his attention. He licked his lips, unconsciously this time, because he didn't stop and kept licking them long after his lips were moistened. I noticed his hand on his upper thigh, rubbing it lightly in small circles. I groaned a little, then jumped up from my seat.

"Can I use your restroom?" I asked shakily, losing my breath on the last word.

He blinked several times, as though coming out of a reverie. "Follow me," he said, his voice rough with arousal. He led me to the master bedroom and then to an immaculate bath near the back. "Perhaps you should shower," he growled, "to sober up." Something in his voice made me turn to face him, and I saw that look, that aura that he'd had in the store earlier that day, the power, the authority. I nearly fainted from the rush of blood to my groin. I turned round to hide my reaction to him. I don't think it worked.

I stepped into the shower and turned on the water. I set it to a comfortable temperature, and stood under it. I looked around and noticed a razor sitting on one of the shelves. Intrigued, I picked it up. It looked like the ones my father used to use, getting ready for work in the morning. I had seen my mother shave when preparing for an evening out, but I had never done so myself. I found some shave lotion beside the razor, and sat down on the side of the shower. I took some of the shaving cream, and worked it into a lather. I began to rub it onto my calf.

I raked the razor across my skin, and my body began to hum. My previous erection returned with a vengeance, angry at being denied relief so many times that night. I continued shaving, moaning intermittently, until my legs and arms were completely bare. I looked down at my cock, and the hair surrounding it. Feeling naughty, I spread some shaving cream around it. As I slid the razor across my skin, the unexpected sensation made my cock twitch with need. The feeling of the sharp blades scraping the sensitive skin beneath my pubic hair made me moan, more desperate than ever to find release. When I was finally finished, my cock was leaking precum and throbbing in time with my heart.

I put the razor back in place and stepped out of the shower. The cold air deflated me somewhat, and I dried off with one of Water's towels, and put on one of his enormous shirts. It looked like a dress on me. Then I stepped back into the bedroom.

Walter was laid on the bed, naked, propped up on one elbow. My eyes were drawn immediately to his crotch. I stared in amazement at the largest penis I had ever laid eyes on. It was long and thick, the vein prominent and uninterrupted from the based until the enormous head, a deep red. Walter teased himself slowly, gently rubbing his shaft with his fingertips, and sometimes straying to a spot just beneath the head he would stroke a little harder, and I could see him twitch from the foot of the bed. He uttered two simple words.

"Come here."

I walked close to the bed, and Walter sat up. He crawled toward me, and when he reached me he straddled me, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed on either side of mine, his swollen cock pointed obscenely at my face. He reached up to my neck, unbuttoning the shirt I had on. His finger traced the freshly shaved skin under each button. I was unprepared for its sensitivity and I shuddered and let out a small whimper. He smiled lasciviously, and the powerful, lusty look in his eyes intensified.

He slid the shirt over my shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. I stood completely exposed before him, and he took full advantage of the opportunity to look freely. His eyes roamed over my body, his face brightening when he saw my hairlessness. His face inches from my stiffening manhood, he stared directly into my eyes, and began to lick his lips. My reaction was immediate. I swelled to full mast almost immediately, my breathing became ragged once again. I began to leak, and the feeling of the fluid running down my cock and onto my balls made me moan. He took this for encouragement, enjoying his game, and began to lick his lips more voraciously, rolling and twisting his tongue over them and making them glisten with saliva. I moaned again.

He picked up a small brown bottle off of the bedside table and opened it.

"Inhale," he said.

I did, and my head began to swim. My cock throbbed harder.

"Lay down on your stomach."

I obeyed. His comforter was cotton with lots of stitching details, and the bumpy threads rubbed across my nipples as I lay down. I let out a louder moan.

He placed a pillow under my hips, raising my ass higher in the air. He put his hands on the back of my knees and slowly spread my legs wide, as wide as they would go. My virgin hole was completely exposed to him, and this knowledge made me wetter than I already was, if that was possible.

He placed a sleep mask over my eyes.

He kneeled behind me. I could feel his warm breath on my hole. My breathing was so ragged, it was a wonder I had not passed out. Then he gave me a gentle lick.

I nearly shot off the bed. I moaned loudly this time, no longer concerned about being heard. His tongue softly licked around it, again and again and again, swirling and twisting. I could hear the quiet slurping sound as readied me for him, and I was nearly crying with need when he finally inserted his tongue into me.

"Oh," I sighed softly, as Walter began to lick the inside of my channel. Deeper and deeper he went, swirling his thick tongue inside me, making me moan louder and louder, grinding my hips into the bed in an attempt to find blessed release. When I thought I would go mad if he continued, he stopped and stood up. He place the head of is cock against my hole, rubbing slightly.

I panicked.

"Wait," I said nervously. "Please, no, I can't..."

He was having none of it.

He drove his cock home in one stroke, knocking me off of my knees and flat onto my stomach. I screamed, not in pain, for it did not hurt much since I was so ready, but because I knew I was no longer a virgin or innocent. I began to cry softly.

My sorrow didn't last long.

Walter began to fuck me. Hard. He was grunting and moaning above me, and I was thinking of how my life would change when Walter's cock struck my prostate. I moaned loudly in ecstasy, the pleasure unlike anything I could have imagined. Hearing me, he went faster striking it more often, and eliciting near screams from me. Then his strokes got shallower and wilder, and then I could feel him, shooting seed deep into me. I realized that he wasn't wearing a condom, and I lost any semblance of control. My cock twitched violently as spurt after spurt of thick cum shot out of the end, coating the bedspread beneath me and wracking my body with orgasm. My scream was low and long, almost a growl, and didn't stop until the last drop of cum was wrung from me. I slipped into oblivion.

I was awakened by a gentle heat across my arms and abdomen, and opened my eyes to see that there were strips of sunlight spread across the bed I laid in. I simply lay there for a few minutes more, listening to the birdcalls and insect ticks that floated in through the open window, and enjoying the warmth and comfort of the body that lay curled up behind me, spooning. I went to move, and noticed a slight ache in my ass as I did. As I pondered this, the events of the previous night came back with crushing clarity.

My heart began to pound in my chest as I contemplated what this meant. No. What had I done? What had I allowed him to do to me? The shame, the guilt, was nearly overwhelming. I had violated all the values of my faith, by having sex before marriage, with a man, and a Jewish man, no less; what would my family say if they ever found out? My mother? My father?

Then came the fear.

I must never let this get out. Yes, I reasoned with myself, I'd just forget this whole thing ever happened. If I could get up without waking him, I could quickly grab my things, and sneak out, and never look back. Yes, I thought. It'd be okay. I could pray for forgiveness, never, ever, under any circumstances do this again, and none would be the wiser. Yes. I would be okay.

But I wouldn't be okay. I hadn't really thought too hard about it before meeting Walter, but I was lonely. Walter had filled a void in my life that I hadn't even known existed- the one left by my father's inattention. I liked to pretend to myself that it didn't bother me at all, but it did. I remembered all the times when my father would take my brothers out- to town with him, to work with him, and sometimes just to spend time with him. I remembered how hard I fought and groveled and begged for his attention, and how I had been completely ignored, as forgotten as a memory from a dream.

And Walter had fulfilled other needs in me to- deep, intensely sexual ones that I hadn't had the courage to acknowledge before the previous night. Yes, Walter made me ache deep inside, and now that I had had such incredible sex with him, I knew I would not be able to suppress the need for it, or him, beyond today. The depth and intensity of my feelings scared me a little- what if Walter didn't feel the same way? Did he think I was any good in bed? Could he tell that I was- well, had been- a virgin? Did he have any genuine feelings for me, or was I just a convenient one night stand, a slut that he would discard the morning after?

Walter stirred behind me, dragging me out of my reverie. He hugged me tighter around the waist, caressing my abdomen and planting butterfly kisses behind my ears and on the back of my neck.

"You're lovely," he said softly, nuzzling the back of my neck.

"Really?" I said tentatively, sure he was just being nice after last night.

Walter growled, the sound originating low in his throat. He let go of me, then turned me around to face him and kissed me chastely on the lips. He kissed me again, and this time his tongue slipped out and began licking my lips, teasing them open. He reached up and grabbed be back of my head, tugging on my hair gently as my mouth opened unconsciously and his tongue slid inside. Familiar shivers went up and down my spine as his tongue touched mine, swirling as twisting around in my mouth, maintaining control of both my tongue and my wits. He moaned into my mouth, and I felt his cock rapidly hardening against my thigh. The fact that I could have this effect on him made me feel kind of powerful, and this, in combination with his knee weakening kisses, had me hard and aching, writhing against him and begging for release with my body before long.

Walter felt my desperation and began kissing down my jaw, stopping to suck and nibble on my neck, and I let out a small whimper at the sensation. He continued down to my collarbone, stopping to nibble and tease me there too. When I began to writhe again, he continued down my chest the short distance to my nipples. He took one into his mouth, sucking gently, then hard, then biting sharply, causing me to moan out my need for him. After a few minutes of teasing, he pulled back and began to blow on the same nipple, making it harden and beg for more attention, while the other one was left completely unattended. The contrast was driving me completely insane, and when I couldn't stand any more, I took a deep shuddering breath.

"Please..." I said breathlessly, looking him in his eyes, trying to communicate my previously unparalleled need. "I need... I...."

"What? What do you need, angel?" Walter said with mock innocence, knowing I would not want to say it aloud. The hunger I had seen in his eyes the night before had returned with a vengeance. It only served to further fuel my lust. "Tell daddy what you need."

"...cum..." I said breathlessly, cheeks burning with humiliation. "Please...m-make me c-cum..."

Walter's patience had finally run out. My innocence and desperate begging were rocking him to the core, and he suddenly growled loudly, sounding like a dog that had seen a raccoon in the yard. He suddenly pulled back off of me and climbed up to straddle my chest. He grabbed both my wrists and held them firmly above my head with one hand, and with the other, he once again grabbed my hair. Forcing my head back, he began to rub his cock against my closed lips. He was very wet, perhaps more so than the previous night, and his precum was running down the sides of my jaws and my neck. I tried to resist the urge, the burning need to take him into my mouth, but by now I was so aroused that I had no willpower left. I moaned and finally gave in, opening my mouth as wide as it would go, desperate to swallow as much of him as I could.