"Oh, oh, I'm close! I'm close!"
Chase's chest heaves, his abs clench tight, and I drop his cock just as it throbs dangerously on the point of no return. "Ah, ah, argh!" Chase's chest lifts as far off as his bonds allow, his face and body strained tight against this hot, sticky wave. His abs twist and grind like coils of bronze. He gasps, his grip faltering a bit - his cock twitches and glows.
"You got it, come on man - hold it, hold it!" By this point, I'm on Chase's side as well. It feels like we're bros who go to the gym together, except he's always the one pushing and I'm always spotting. And I want him to make it!
"Oh, oh - phew." All the tension evaporates from Chase's body as the hot load bottled in his prostate fades away. His head hits the pillow again, his iron-wrought brow melting. I pat his sweaty torso proudly.
"Nice job, man. Ten out of ten." Chase lets out a chuckle as I unbuckle the soft leather cuffs strapping him down to the corners of the milking bed.
Our penultimate challenge before M-Day, M for "Milking" - get to the edge ten times. Which Chase thought sounded easy enough until he realized I'd keep him cruising along the pleasure river for an hour before we started counting. Both of us are sticky and covered in lube now, but glowing with accomplishment.
"Thanks, man." Chase pushes himself off the bed, his entire body strung through with fatigue. He looks like he just came back from a run. Catching his breath, he reaches for a towel and wipes off the sweat from his shining neck and chest. "The last few were a bitch to hold through." But even then, the sunshine in his voice still shone through his tiredness. Maybe even brighter than before, now that he knows how strong he can be when he needs to be.
"Yeah, it's good training for tomorrow. You think you're ready?" I ask as I towel down myself. Edging a guy is tough work. My tank top is soaked through with sweat too, and my forearms are tight and sore. My palms are oiled smooth like a baby's cheeks.
Chase laughs and shrugs with the air of an athlete interviewed about an upcoming race. Honestly, it's the same, isn't it? Edging is an extreme sexual sport and the ones who make it are those with the mental force to endure. "Dude, I don't think anyone is ever ready for what you put us through." He gets up and turns around to head for the door, but then stops a bit and swivels back. "Just curious - do the other guys you play with also find it this tiring?"
"It depends. Some of them play tough and like the feeling of being tortured. Some are totally into it and begging to be edged even more. You're... kinda in the middle. Why?"
Chase shrugs. There's something else lingering on his lips. "Nah, just asking. Was just wondering where I stand. Alright, see ya tomorrow!"
"Wait!" Chase stops in his wet tracks again.
"Yeah?"
"About tomorrow - you know you can tap out anytime, right? It's gonna be intense. It's a whole day thing... if you really can't continue, we can just stop."
"Yeah." Chase smiles candidly. "I trust you, man."
"Perfect. See you at 8 o' clock in the tightest underwear you have."
—
MILKING DAY
"Good morning!" Chase whoops, swinging his arms while strolling out from his room. Looking up from the dining table, I see he's excited for the day ahead. His hair is nicely tousled and he's in snug baby blue briefs. The past week's edging is evident down there - his balls' fullness bulges through the cotton and his shaft is hard and ready to go. As a whole, he looks... juicier. Sex drive permeates his entire body, filling up his muscles and brimming in his actions.
"Hey Chase! Breakfast?"
"Aw, yeah! Big day ahead, hahaha." Chase walks up to me and stops, his mouth caught mid gasp, at the sight of his plate.
A sausage, flanked by two hard boiled eggs, drizzled with mayonnaise. A glass of cold milk.
"Wow. This is direct."
On the other hand, I'm having coffee and a very normal sandwich.
"Big meal for my big boy. Dig in - you'll need the energy." Juice bursts from firm taut sausage skin as he sinks his teeth into hot meat. Milk pools at his lips.
That's right. We're turning Chase into a sex object for breakfast.
"Oh this is tasty!" Chase finishes up his sausage.
"Yes, you are." I make smouldering sexy eyes at Chase before we both break into laughter. This is so over-the-top that it's almost funny for us both. As the chuckles die down, Chase drums the table with his fingertips, not sure what he should do now.
I slide my mug away.
"Shall we?"
Chase nods. There's a tiger inside him ready to be stroked.
It's showtime.
"Welcome to Milking Day. You have one rule - you cannot cum until the sun sets. There's no point asking for permission, because the answer will always be no."
A familiar aura dawns over Chase's shoulders. He settles into the headspace he knows so well by now, a space soft and warm but laced with black leather.
"Yes sir."
He looks so sexy and submissive that the sound of his husky, thirsty voice alone triggers a small spasm inside me. Time to nudge that spot, rub it in deep and good - I want Chase to spend his entire day squirming, struggling.
"Let's warm up with some exercise."
Chase gulps his milk down. Now it truly begins.
"Before we start with the cock work, let's get your body stretched and primed for action." I rest my tongue heavily on those long, delicious words. Chase looks sheepish, but his cock perks up as it always does when I make him sound like a hot stud who lives solely to bring his master pleasure. We walk up to the living room where there's a big space in front of the couch, a nice stage for the morning muscle show.
"First: glute bridges."
Demeaned, Chase gets down on all fours, preparing to turn himself over onto his back - but I stop him with a quick raise of a hand.
"Oh, that's a good position to have you in." Chase blushes at the overt sexual comment. "But no, I want you - there."
The coffee table.
Chase stares at the low sturdy table, and then back at me, his eyes confused and embarrassed.
"What, on the table?"
"Yeah. You've done it before. Now get on."
Biting his lip, Chase makes to get back on his feet, but I pause him again. He turns to me, not sure what's happening next.
"I want you to crawl onto the table."
Chase laughs hesitantly. "Come on, man, I-"
"Do it," I tease. "I haven't decided how long to milk you yet..."
"Alright, alright!" Chase gives in, and turns slowly, shamefully, on all fours and crawls along the floor before slinking up the table. Oh, boy... the sight of his lean muscled body crawling like a sexy naked animal has me so damn fired up. I grind my hips a bit, feeling that slight friction against my trousers. Now that Chase is on top, he looks down at the floor, his modesty clinging to the edge of the table.
"Glute bridges, please." I can taste the objectification in the air - his shame slipping away as he turns into a himbo muscle show. Chase gets on his back and lifts his huge, claspable butt high in the air, lifting up his ample bulge in a steady thrust up. To get to that position, he has to clench his abs too, and his thighs flex like big thick pipes. I let out a luxurious sigh at the sight of his muscles moving like a pleasure machine all for me. Up, down, up, down... those globes clenching, his abs pulling and letting go. Chase tries to keep his face straight but I know he's melting under the spotlight. He's blushing.
"Yes... very nice. Let's move on to the next exercise - squats. Come on, face me. Look down at me - my eyes are here, not on the floor - don't you wanna do these squats for me?"
Making eye contact with me was like holding onto a block of ice. Chase's gaze shook and trembled as he did his squats. His underwear was straining against his gifted assets, and the squatting did much for viewing them. He was beginning to build up a fine, thin mist of perspiration, and I could smell it off him too - musk and shame and enjoyment.
"Last one. Pushups. Count them."
Chase got back down on his chest and pressed himself off the strong table, showing off his shoulders and back muscles. "One, two, three..." he went, his voice straining against the fatigue. I imagine running my hands through his sandy brown hair, feeling his sweat mist off his body and enveloping me. I want his virility, his manliness, all over me.
"...Twenty." Chase collapses onto the table, his breath pumping up his chest. I drink in his suffering image from the comfort of my couch. He hopes it's over. But even if this is over, that would only mean that the true torture is about to start. He looks at me expectantly - do we go to the Den now?
We would, but I want him now.
I spread my legs wide and pat my thighs, beckoning him in.
Apprehensively, Chase crawls off the table and stops in front of me. He looks afraid - he was still as straight as he wanted to be. What was I going to ask him to do?
"Don't worry. Lean back on me."
"Oh, haha. I thought you were hinting at... something else." Tension steams off Chase's chest in a chuckle. He turns around, facing his glorious back to me, and sits back down against the lower body of the couch, resting his armpits on my knees and leaning his head down in between my thighs. I can smell him even closer now, and it's a smoky, meaty scent I love. I lean forward into his heat, feeling sex radiate off his skin, take a whiff of his neck. My fingers play with his hair for a moment, but they soon find their way down his forehead, past his lips, and down to my favorite opening act - his nipples.
