The days piled on with Lan.
I was in my right mind. I kept telling myself that. I texted on and off with Rhonda. There was a smirk and a concern in equal parts in her messages. She offered to meet for drinks, but I had to tell her I was staying away from the bar. "Oh, Lan's on a campaign to get rid of your belly, huh? Good for you, you fat fuck," and I laughed and shook my head as I read the text. I got hard as I remembered Lan's beautiful cock slapping my belly from the side. "I want it hard like I am. Do you want that?"
He never let my dick get near his ass. I agreed that was for the best, staring at the floor, getting hard.
Was I in my right mind? How did I get here? I was going to the gym for this man. I was making food for this man. I wasn't drinking. I was wearing a discrete lock around my neck with his name for me, Thor. I was staying away from the bar. I'd met Rhonda for a big salad lunch today. She looked me up and down like she always did, smirking at the old kilt that I had lost 15 pounds to get into. "About time we got you kilted up again!" and then her breasts were against my pecs, which I could feel were bigger - not her, Rhonda had always been blessed, but a man's blessing depended on his effort.
I did my job. Better than usual. Dudes checked me out on the train. I smiled, and just looked down knowing those pups would never, ever give me what Lan was giving me.
He'd been out of town. I thought of him ferociously. I felt like I needed a mental version of a no-lick dog cone.
He was coming tonight.
I hit the gym with a fucking vengeance. I was that red-faced guy in a rugby jersey doing squats til he shook and his neck bulged with veins. The pained yells letting the weights crash on the rack were real. I was that older guy who ignored your pretty ass as you did bent over rows, and his jock bulged as he did skull crushers set after set.
I chafed at the woman smell of lavender in the bath salts Lan had bought for me. But the thought of Lan and the fact he'd bought me a big box of salt to soothe my tired muscles made my dick twitch and my hole feel warm - which frankly still annoyed me on some distant level. But fuck levels, and fuck me, and oh, God, I wanted him to fuck me before I forgot how fucking good it was, and I didn't want anyone to find out that I couldn't get enough of this little dude's huge dick up my ass.
And I was hard. And not touching myself. My fat pink dickhead poking up above the water, telling me like it usually did that I was a viking and I should take what I want. And the feeling in my smaller belly was that I was taken now and needed to be good to get the real pleasure I deserved.
Lan's shadow fell across me. I'd left the door open for him. I was soaking as instructed. The water had gone from scalding to just warm. The water on my face was half sweat.
"Good boy," he gravelled warmly in my tiled bathroom. My balls twisted in their sack. My hole opened and closed, opened and closed. My dick drooled slime across the surface of the water. I hadn't gotten off in days. As per instruction. I told myself I liked what it got me, that I was choosing it. I wasn't sure I really believed myself.
"Stand for me," his accent was thick in my ears, buzzing in my head already. I wanted him to take me.
I stood, dripping, my fur plastered to my chest, belly, arms, legs. My cock pointed at him like an exclamation. I was proud of my cock, and part of me was embarrassed how this man being in charge of me made me hard.
His gaze was a hot thing all over me. I stared at the tile floor, smelled lavender, smelled the leather sweat smell of Lan in his riding jacket.
