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Lingerie Lust
CHAPTER 1
Mike awoke with a satisfied feeling, the late morning light streaming into
the Master bedroom of his palatial house in the hills, overlooking the
city. Mike had just moved in a month ago, and was finally beginning to feel
at home in his mansion; a stunning home with opulent detail, that had once
belonged to a female movie star of the 1930's. Mike had chosen to buy this
house, from all the houses he had seen, because here, above the city,
overlooking the Bay, there was an abundance of luxury everywhere: fine
woodwork, inglenooks, rooms decorated in the grand manner. Such luxury
suited Mike. It reflected his newly acquired tastes - like Mike, the house
was slightly decadent, fun, and a bit risque.
Mike stretched his arms, and yawned, while the black silk sheets of the
massive king-sized four poster bed draped themselves seductively around his
muscular body and legs. Mike was a striking individual, 6' 4", 220, with a
46" chest and huge arms that could easily bench press 300 pounds. A
towering man, Mike also had an indefinable `presence'- an aura that made
heads turn as he walked down the street, and gave others the feeling that
someone of importance had just entered the room. This aura, which affected
both men and women, was something that Mike long had been unaware of. It
made the women who met him, want him-and the men who fell under Mikes
spell, soon wanted him too! It was almost psychic, this attraction Mike had
over people.
He was not a classic beauty, more a unique mix of angles, planes, and a
personality (and attitude) that inspired leadership, power, and
seductiveness all rolled into one-especially when he was alone in the
bedroom with you. He had not always had the physique he now possessed, nor
the endowment that packed his overly-filled briefs. Mike had learned to
use his psychic `gift' to his great advantage, since he had become famous
some three years ago, about the time he naturally began to develop below
the belt as well. But this morning, all that stuff- `aura,' `power,' and
`attitude,' meant little. Mike was awake, horny, and, as far as he was
concerned, just a guy who had woken up with an erection- a nice big
hard-on. Laying there lazily in his bed, Mike's mind and hands began to
explore. The lingerie that he had come to love, the silky things that had
led him to this point in his life, the lust for silks and satins he had so
long denied himself, caressed his manly body, and worked its way into his
mind as well. The deep purple teddy and garterless hose Mike had chosen to
wear last night firmly but gently gripped his long, sensuous legs, his
muscled body, and his firm pectoral muscles. The diaphanous folds of the
silky fabric around his pecs were stroking his nipples lusciously. Mike's
muscular thighs and powerful calves, naturally hairless after electrolysis,
felt sluttish and sexy in the lilac hose they sported, designed to be worn
by the hunky man in his silky things.
After a hedonistic party given by a business colleague (ostensibly in his
honor) had finally ended at 4 am, Mike, psychically worn out from being
surrounded by the drugs, the backroom sex, the poppers, the booze, and the
fawning muscle men who wanted to get him in the sack, had retired
home-surprisingly, to many, without a bed partner for the night. The
football team trio, three men from the NFL, who had surrounded Mike,
touched, groped, and sought to arouse him, had literally propositioned him
as if he were a cheap whore on the streets! "You get to take us home for a
four-way, if we get to be the featured studs on your next ad campaign, ok?"
Mike couldn't believe it! What jerks men were sometimes! And that is why
Mike left the party alone. He could identify with the women who hated all
men, merely for their boorishness. Some of the lesbians he knew had the
right opinions about men! `Well, about some men,' Mike mused. As he became
more fully awake, Mike thought that sometimes he could feel that way about
those of his own sex, whether hereto or homosexual. At other times, such
overt masculine lust, such stupid ravings of testosterone, would have
turned him on strongly.
Thus it was, that Mike, awaking from sleep, lay alone there in his huge
Master Suite, the muscular stud with the hefty sex tool-Mike Carson, the
picture of masculine power and erotic potential, this man who could easily
be a linebacker for a pro football team himself [!] -had, last night before
retiring, slipped into one of his male lingerie creations. He did so, not
because he secretly wanted to `be a woman,' or because it was some kinky
thing a female lover demanded of him. Mike donned lingerie, because he
liked to. In fact, the lingerie he wore was an item from a line of
lingerie he had created"made specifically `...for the sexually uninhibited
male.' These comfortable, but erotic outfits, were the brainchild of
Lingerie Lust, Inc.
- a subsidiary of FeMan, Inc., the multi-million dollar business Mike
founded, and of which he was President, CEO, etc. From his success with
FeMan, Inc., had flowed all that had made this new-found wealth and
opulence possible. With an annual corporate income just slightly below
Belle Greats, the lady computer software developer, Mike had no worries for
his immediate future, save for his increasing sexual need this morning.
That need, it seemed, always had to be satisfied, to be indulged in, before
it drove him crazy with lust. Sometimes, it even became annoying! Mike's
large, manicured hands, with their trimmed and clear polished nails
(slightly longer than most men would wear them) slipped languidly to his
pectorals. And what pecs! Large and firm, so masculine, so erotic, yet so
sensitive, Mike's pecs were sore from the workout at the gym yesterday
afternoon. But they were not so sore as to feel so very, very good when
Mike lovingly, gently, caressingly touched his distended nipples.
Surrounded with the bulls-eye nipple rings that gave him so much pleasure
night after night, as well as being his fashion trademark, this erotic
jewelry (now worn by rock stars, boy bands, porn stars, as well as young
boys just entering the `joys of manhood')- these nip rings, it seemed, were
being seen just about everywhere.
Mike had invented these gold rings. They were visually stunning, sexually
erotic, and served a dual purpose. The nipple rings Mike wore were 24 Karat
gold, and the nips they encased were a psychologically comforting visual
cue to Mike of his now-constant ability to get aroused whenever, and as
often, as he chose. These rings were nothing less than a sexual boon, a
hedonistic miracle, a latter-day Aphrodisiac to the millions who also had
them impaled on their own male nips. These `sex rings' that Mike and his
customers wore, were not just a fashion accessory, or mere fetish. These
gold bands of lust were enhanced by a microchip of Mike's own design, which
was implanted under the skin when the nips were first pierced.
What was often considered a rather painful `rite of passage' had become the
`cool thing' to do across the nation. For, after the initial pain of the
piercing, each wearer almost immediately became aware of something else. As
the pain quickly changed into an intense sexual pleasure, men found that
they would often cum just from the act of the piercing itself with Mike's
nip rings. For, upon installation, the microchip adjusted to the unique
hormonal balances of each male wearer, with monitoring sensors embedded in
the nip rings. Once activated, at the piercing stations conveniently
located in every major mall in the larger coastal cities, the men who had
become members of the `Sex Ring Gang' became insatiable sex machines, and
soon, every man who had these `sex rings,' was quite adept at using them
for their own, and their partners' constant, continual pleasure!
Each man pierced at the nip quickly became complete master of his own male
sexual energy. The implant, once installed, constantly monitored a person's
hormonal levels. It electronically sent a signal to the brain's pleasure
centers when a man's sexual arousal began, all with the intent and purpose
to increase and flood the body with constant hormones, like testosterone or
estrogen, depending on the client's wish and sexual potential. It was like
an electronic aphrodisiac, ready at the beck and call of every man that had
it. Mike's sensitive nips, and the device encasing them that he had
invented, (merely to increase his own sexual pleasure at first) had
surprisingly made him far richer than he had ever imagined.
Mike began to start the process to activate his rings. Moving his soft,
hairless, womanly shaved legs under the satin sheets, and adjusting his
teddy to bare his pecs for further touching, Mike took his nipples in each
hand, and watched incredulously as they slightly raised at his barest
touch, and grew ever more sensitive as he stroked them. Mike's aureoles,
enhanced recently by small injections of silicone, just below the skin,
made him happy he had taken this next step in his growing `sexual
sluttishness,' as his best friend at work, and sometime sex partner, Georg,
had called it. For Mike, it was merely a form of accepting and enjoying
who and what he was. After so long being ill at ease with his sexual
tastes, this nipple ring invention was a comfort to him. And his present
lifestyle was one, which every man, gay or straight, would have envied.
Always aroused, and never drained, these rings were a gold mine for the
lust of men everywhere. Mike Carson used them for his pleasure. So did the
myriad other men who had them. You would too. If you were to meet Mike at
the exclusive gym he frequented, you would never know Mike had recently had
implants to give him the barest hint of `feminine nipples'. But that is
how he viewed them. Just puffy enough at the aureole surrounding the gold
nip rings, Mike's pecs would make a gay man's mouth water. You couldn't but
notice the big nubs under the tight fitting lycra t-shirts Mike often wore
to the gym, but it would just appear that his pecs ended in large
protruding male nips, a very erotic sight to the men who longed to touch,
to taste, to chew on them. As Mike would pass by, he seemed to make men not
more aggressive, but more passive. They could not bring themselves to talk
to the man who exuded such blatant Maleness. Mike Carson looked like some
erotic fantasy drawing come to life, reminiscent of those masterful erotic
leatherman drawings of the 1950's; men with large booted feet, white
athletic sox, tight jeans, huge pecs with nips almost like male tits, and
very well packed crotches.
As for Mike, he knew that he looked this way, and he was thrilled at the
lust he engendered in other men. His crotch was big and packed well, in his
skin tight too-small workout shorts, or his ass-hugging denim jeans. He
liked it, because he had not always been this erotic, this sexual, this
perverse in his own sluttishness. It was a new feeling for him, to be
wanted, desired, lusted after, and frankly, Mike never tired of it. Mike
was, or was viewed by many who saw him, as nothing more than a male slut,
and a desirable one-as he blatantly showed off the sexual toys nature had
given to him.
That is why, when Mike left the party alone last night, there were those
that called him a `prick tease.' That was often the name given to him by
the studs in the gym who wanted him as well. It seemed as if Mike's nips,
like small dicks, were continually in a state of arousal, waiting to be
touched, licked, sucked and chewed on, while his bulging package seemed
ready and waiting, for a wet mouth or eager ass to swallow his monstrous
dick.
And if you thought that right now, seeing Mike in bed, draped in silky and
sexy lingerie, you would be right. For that is what Mike's body was- that
of a whorish male, a sexual nympho whose nipples had become, under his
gentle touches, small extensions of the male erotic - additional sources of
arousal and pleasure, which now, as Mike began to pinch his `tits,' as he
called them, with a severity that surprised even him, it made his mantits
come alive-engorged with blood, aroused, and ready for sex.
Almost magically, the microchip began the second stage of its wonderful
task. And suddenly, Mike's whole erotic nature was alive. The implants did
their job, as they always did. Quickly, Mike was fully awake, and below his
garter line, engorged almost immediately, his 9" thick uncut dick strained
and throbbed, causing it to spring up between the straps holding his
crotchless hose. This snake of his, dripping with precum and needing a
hole, a mouth, a hand, anything, to bring it to ejaculation, and quickly -
soon became the center of Mike's attention.
`Oh yeah, fuck, mmmm yesss, ` Mike moaned, just the barest hint of a
feminine lisp on that last word, as the microchip sent more and more
signals to enhance the pleasure centers of his brain, which made even the
barest touch of his sexual organs a caress of full-blown lust. Building to
a frenzy, Mike's right hand left his aching and distended nipple, and he
began to stroke the monstrous dripping cock that gave so much pleasure to
so many men.
His mind flooded with lust, Mike let himself go, and surrendered to the
moment. "Oh, yesssss,' he moaned, his husky baritone filled with sex. While
all around him, the bedclothes and his lingerie made every inch of his body
an erogenous zone, ready for more, more, more! Mike let his other hand grab
the balls of his heavy sack, as his hand continued to jack his
tool. Bending his knees, and lifting his pelvis, Mike began to fuck his own
hand, dreaming of a tight asshole that he could drive his manmeat into with
abandon. His perfectly manicured finger toyed with the rosebud of his ass,
and easily slipped in. His chute had been greased in anticipation of a
tryst last night, but nothing had happened. Now Mike would be the one to
sexually stimulate his tight, hot hole, his hot `asspussy.'
Mike's moans grew in intensity, and his voice began to change in timbre and
range as he gave in to the enhanced lust. The microchip, sensing a shift in
Mike's yin and yang, began to send estrogen-like substances into his body,
to intensify the submissive feelings Mike was giving himself, as he played
with his ass, and felt up his `pussy.' This was the beauty of the chip,
and its most sought after feature, to those who knew of it. The design of
Mike's miracle invention allowed a male the same sensations that a woman
felt, as they were engaging in intercourse. Multiple orgasms, and a
sluttish submissiveness were available at the merest thought or
manipulation of a man's sexual femme side. Very few men knew or cared that
such additional pleasure was possible, (in fact, it scared some away from
using the chip altogether) but Mike had learned that is was an integral
part of his existence, this femme side of himself, just as his massive dick
was. He let himself go deeper, further into the feelings of wanton lust....
The pleasure built and his cock swelled to prepare for its release of
cum. Mike, sweaty now, and thrashing on the bed in his unbridled lust, was
screaming, "Yes, fuck, yes, oh god, mmmmm, MORE!" Too soon, too soon, the
cum exploded out of Mike's cock slit, rolling up the long dick, shooting
out the head, as Mike's screams of joy went higher and higher, his voice at
least an octave higher than when he began. It was as if the hormones were
changing, shifting, finding the right mix of male and female in their
attempt to aid in the pleasuring of the man as he came, to allow him some
forbidden feminine pleasure, as his maleness erupted at his command.
Mike's mind was very slow to clear. As he gazed at his dick, it
continued to cum, at least a quarter cup, drenching his lingerie, his bed,
and racking Mike's psyche, as his body shook with the intensity of the now
normal multiple climaxes he so often had, when he gave himself
pleasure. For Mike loved to jack off, dreaming of the men who could please
him-especially those hyper masculine studs, the bodybuilders, the leather
men, or the construction workers on his building sites, who longed for him;
all of them knowing full well he preferred sex with them while he was
dressed in lingerie, or at least men's silk pajamas. Mike was kinky, they
knew that. But it was a turn on to them as well. The men who were
comfortable in their manhood thought it `fuckin' hot,' and vied with each
other for a taste of Mike's cum, his lips, or his ass.
Mike also took pleasure in those androgynous, overtly feminine men he knew,
who,
adoring the mix of confident male and aware feminine side, that Mike
was-these `boygirls'
pleased him often sexually. These prettyboys, transvestites, and
transexuals,
often being more `woman' than real genetic girls, were masters of their
sexual lust,
and it was one of them who had first taught Mike how to enjoy that lust in
himself.
Mike also loved to help these prettyboys and tv's with their hormones,
breast enhancements,
or anything that they wanted, in order so that they could pleasure him, in
their desire
to be more androgynous and feminine. Mike adored those lovely sweet things
with a cock and tits, who loved to have Mike screw them over and over, and
then,
with some help from the on-staff doctor Mike kept at his office, enable
them
to engorge their once useless clitcocks, so that Mike could be fucked by
the boygirls and trannies who had long since lost the use of their manmeat.
Mike loved all forms of male sex. Hell, he just loved sex, often and a lot
of it. Even with all this lust at his disposal, Mike had not viewed
himself as a `slut' -at least, not until recently! He was not as
one-dimensional as the press and his fans saw him. He was a relatively
quiet man, who could party when he wanted, and indulge himself, as he had
done now. Mike was a real man, who still loved quiet nights, walks on the
beach, and good food, fine clothes, tailored suits, and' culture' (art
movies, Opera, Ballet, Symphony). Still, with his looks, his fortune, his
insatiable need for sex, he was alone. Mike didn't mind it, but when he
thought back on his last five years, he began to wonder if he would ever
find that `special man' that would fill the hole in his heart... But when
his nips made him into a `male sex machine,' as his ad campaigner had
proclaimed to those who had bought his invention, Mike, like all the men
who had the Sex Rings, thought of nothing but sex.
A famous Rock star, David Le Raw, the one with the long blond hair, tiny
hips and grinding crotch, had had the Sex Rings installed last year. Now,
as part of his act, strutted in his skimpy skin-tight leather and latex
pants just as before. But then came the part of the act where David undid
his codpiece, got hard, and came at least five times in a row within the
last fifteen minutes of the show, on stage and in full view of the
increasingly gay crowd that worshipped him, and to the whoops and hollers
of his still-loyal female fans. All of this was accomplished while other
band members licked, chewed, and twisted David's tits with their mouths,
hands, or guitars, all the while playing riffs on their instruments,
gyrating to the thumping beat! Cowds went wild, and this had become such a
part of David's rock legend, that the latest album cover was just a picture
of David's erect tits!
Mike never thought he could be so blatant, so lewd in public. But, even so,
when wearing these rings, all other concerns paled into the background of
that urgent, pulsating lust when the rings were activated...
"Yeah!, yesss, oh fuck!,' Mike moaned, his sexual high finally abating, the
multiple waves of orgasm slowly receding, as his voice dropped into its
normal register. His hand job had left him yearning for more, wanting to do
it again and again, this next time with a nice big dildo, or some tit
clamps, just to add to the sensations. But Mike did not give in to that
temptation, at least not this morning. It was comforting to know that sex
on demand was always there- the huge erection, the full cum loads, the
exhilarating feeling of it all. Mike was able to make it happen, merely at
the barest suggestion of his mind, and some conscious manipulation of his
sexy `tits.' Mike never sexually tired now, he never gave less than a cum
load that would fill a handful, and he could do it as often as he
wanted. He felt like a god.
As Mike licked his cum from his hands, and touched his nipples and
aureoles, now distended in their rings a good inch from the flat nips he
once thought were what all men had been cursed with, Mike began to think
back to that time, when he was a rather `normal' man, whose fame, sexual
potency, and quick business mind were nowhere in evidence- at least not to
Mike!
All Mr. Carson saw in himself back then, was a man who had just gotten
fired from a job. A job he hated. It seemed as though he was a failure, a
man on the other side of 35, looking good, looking younger in face and
body, but faced with the idea that soon old age would be upon him, and the
waste of a life spent in a dead-end career would be all he would have to
show for it. Then there was also, that nagging idea, that he had never
`really lived.'
That is, not until he had met Libidina, the man-woman who had introduced
him to the sexual lust to which he now indulged himself on a regular basis.
Mike had become, as the press called him, a full time `milllionaire male
slut.' While that was not true, it made Mike proud. Men wanted him, He
could have any man at any time. But, more than that, he brought sexual
satisfaction to a growing legion of his `customers.' While Mike was resting
in the afterglow of solo sex, he thought of her, of Libidina, and how `she'
had transformed his life. Could it be only three and a half years ago that
he had come up to her while staying at the hotel above the bar in Laguna
Beach, while he was on vacation? Or more appropriately, during the last
days of his old job?
Mike began to relive that magic moment, when all sexual lust had been made
known to him for the first time, and he began to think back over the last
ten years of his life as well......
CHAPTER 1
Mike awoke with a satisfied feeling, the late morning light streaming into
the Master bedroom of his palatial house in the hills, overlooking the
city. Mike had just moved in a month ago, and was finally beginning to feel
at home in his mansion; a stunning home with opulent detail, that had once
belonged to a female movie star of the 1930's. Mike had chosen to buy this
house, from all the houses he had seen, because here, above the city,
overlooking the Bay, there was an abundance of luxury everywhere: fine
woodwork, inglenooks, rooms decorated in the grand manner. Such luxury
suited Mike. It reflected his newly acquired tastes - like Mike, the house
was slightly decadent, fun, and a bit risque.
Mike stretched his arms, and yawned, while the black silk sheets of the
massive king-sized four poster bed draped themselves seductively around his
muscular body and legs. Mike was a striking individual, 6' 4", 220, with a
46" chest and huge arms that could easily bench press 300 pounds. A
towering man, Mike also had an indefinable `presence'- an aura that made
heads turn as he walked down the street, and gave others the feeling that
someone of importance had just entered the room. This aura, which affected
both men and women, was something that Mike long had been unaware of. It
made the women who met him, want him-and the men who fell under Mikes
spell, soon wanted him too! It was almost psychic, this attraction Mike had
over people.
He was not a classic beauty, more a unique mix of angles, planes, and a
personality (and attitude) that inspired leadership, power, and
seductiveness all rolled into one-especially when he was alone in the
bedroom with you. He had not always had the physique he now possessed, nor
the endowment that packed his overly-filled briefs. Mike had learned to
use his psychic `gift' to his great advantage, since he had become famous
some three years ago, about the time he naturally began to develop below
the belt as well. But this morning, all that stuff- `aura,' `power,' and
`attitude,' meant little. Mike was awake, horny, and, as far as he was
concerned, just a guy who had woken up with an erection- a nice big
hard-on. Laying there lazily in his bed, Mike's mind and hands began to
explore. The lingerie that he had come to love, the silky things that had
led him to this point in his life, the lust for silks and satins he had so
long denied himself, caressed his manly body, and worked its way into his
mind as well. The deep purple teddy and garterless hose Mike had chosen to
wear last night firmly but gently gripped his long, sensuous legs, his
muscled body, and his firm pectoral muscles. The diaphanous folds of the
silky fabric around his pecs were stroking his nipples lusciously. Mike's
muscular thighs and powerful calves, naturally hairless after electrolysis,
felt sluttish and sexy in the lilac hose they sported, designed to be worn
by the hunky man in his silky things.
After a hedonistic party given by a business colleague (ostensibly in his
honor) had finally ended at 4 am, Mike, psychically worn out from being
surrounded by the drugs, the backroom sex, the poppers, the booze, and the
fawning muscle men who wanted to get him in the sack, had retired
home-surprisingly, to many, without a bed partner for the night. The
football team trio, three men from the NFL, who had surrounded Mike,
touched, groped, and sought to arouse him, had literally propositioned him
as if he were a cheap whore on the streets! "You get to take us home for a
four-way, if we get to be the featured studs on your next ad campaign, ok?"
Mike couldn't believe it! What jerks men were sometimes! And that is why
Mike left the party alone. He could identify with the women who hated all
men, merely for their boorishness. Some of the lesbians he knew had the
right opinions about men! `Well, about some men,' Mike mused. As he became
more fully awake, Mike thought that sometimes he could feel that way about
those of his own sex, whether hereto or homosexual. At other times, such
overt masculine lust, such stupid ravings of testosterone, would have
turned him on strongly.
Thus it was, that Mike, awaking from sleep, lay alone there in his huge
Master Suite, the muscular stud with the hefty sex tool-Mike Carson, the
picture of masculine power and erotic potential, this man who could easily
be a linebacker for a pro football team himself [!] -had, last night before
retiring, slipped into one of his male lingerie creations. He did so, not
because he secretly wanted to `be a woman,' or because it was some kinky
thing a female lover demanded of him. Mike donned lingerie, because he
liked to. In fact, the lingerie he wore was an item from a line of
lingerie he had created"made specifically `...for the sexually uninhibited
male.' These comfortable, but erotic outfits, were the brainchild of
Lingerie Lust, Inc.
- a subsidiary of FeMan, Inc., the multi-million dollar business Mike
founded, and of which he was President, CEO, etc. From his success with
FeMan, Inc., had flowed all that had made this new-found wealth and
opulence possible. With an annual corporate income just slightly below
Belle Greats, the lady computer software developer, Mike had no worries for
his immediate future, save for his increasing sexual need this morning.
That need, it seemed, always had to be satisfied, to be indulged in, before
it drove him crazy with lust. Sometimes, it even became annoying! Mike's
large, manicured hands, with their trimmed and clear polished nails
(slightly longer than most men would wear them) slipped languidly to his
pectorals. And what pecs! Large and firm, so masculine, so erotic, yet so
sensitive, Mike's pecs were sore from the workout at the gym yesterday
afternoon. But they were not so sore as to feel so very, very good when
Mike lovingly, gently, caressingly touched his distended nipples.
Surrounded with the bulls-eye nipple rings that gave him so much pleasure
night after night, as well as being his fashion trademark, this erotic
jewelry (now worn by rock stars, boy bands, porn stars, as well as young
boys just entering the `joys of manhood')- these nip rings, it seemed, were
being seen just about everywhere.
Mike had invented these gold rings. They were visually stunning, sexually
erotic, and served a dual purpose. The nipple rings Mike wore were 24 Karat
gold, and the nips they encased were a psychologically comforting visual
cue to Mike of his now-constant ability to get aroused whenever, and as
often, as he chose. These rings were nothing less than a sexual boon, a
hedonistic miracle, a latter-day Aphrodisiac to the millions who also had
them impaled on their own male nips. These `sex rings' that Mike and his
customers wore, were not just a fashion accessory, or mere fetish. These
gold bands of lust were enhanced by a microchip of Mike's own design, which
was implanted under the skin when the nips were first pierced.
What was often considered a rather painful `rite of passage' had become the
`cool thing' to do across the nation. For, after the initial pain of the
piercing, each wearer almost immediately became aware of something else. As
the pain quickly changed into an intense sexual pleasure, men found that
they would often cum just from the act of the piercing itself with Mike's
nip rings. For, upon installation, the microchip adjusted to the unique
hormonal balances of each male wearer, with monitoring sensors embedded in
the nip rings. Once activated, at the piercing stations conveniently
located in every major mall in the larger coastal cities, the men who had
become members of the `Sex Ring Gang' became insatiable sex machines, and
soon, every man who had these `sex rings,' was quite adept at using them
for their own, and their partners' constant, continual pleasure!
Each man pierced at the nip quickly became complete master of his own male
sexual energy. The implant, once installed, constantly monitored a person's
hormonal levels. It electronically sent a signal to the brain's pleasure
centers when a man's sexual arousal began, all with the intent and purpose
to increase and flood the body with constant hormones, like testosterone or
estrogen, depending on the client's wish and sexual potential. It was like
an electronic aphrodisiac, ready at the beck and call of every man that had
it. Mike's sensitive nips, and the device encasing them that he had
invented, (merely to increase his own sexual pleasure at first) had
surprisingly made him far richer than he had ever imagined.
Mike began to start the process to activate his rings. Moving his soft,
hairless, womanly shaved legs under the satin sheets, and adjusting his
teddy to bare his pecs for further touching, Mike took his nipples in each
hand, and watched incredulously as they slightly raised at his barest
touch, and grew ever more sensitive as he stroked them. Mike's aureoles,
enhanced recently by small injections of silicone, just below the skin,
made him happy he had taken this next step in his growing `sexual
sluttishness,' as his best friend at work, and sometime sex partner, Georg,
had called it. For Mike, it was merely a form of accepting and enjoying
who and what he was. After so long being ill at ease with his sexual
tastes, this nipple ring invention was a comfort to him. And his present
lifestyle was one, which every man, gay or straight, would have envied.
Always aroused, and never drained, these rings were a gold mine for the
lust of men everywhere. Mike Carson used them for his pleasure. So did the
myriad other men who had them. You would too. If you were to meet Mike at
the exclusive gym he frequented, you would never know Mike had recently had
implants to give him the barest hint of `feminine nipples'. But that is
how he viewed them. Just puffy enough at the aureole surrounding the gold
nip rings, Mike's pecs would make a gay man's mouth water. You couldn't but
notice the big nubs under the tight fitting lycra t-shirts Mike often wore
to the gym, but it would just appear that his pecs ended in large
protruding male nips, a very erotic sight to the men who longed to touch,
to taste, to chew on them. As Mike would pass by, he seemed to make men not
more aggressive, but more passive. They could not bring themselves to talk
to the man who exuded such blatant Maleness. Mike Carson looked like some
erotic fantasy drawing come to life, reminiscent of those masterful erotic
leatherman drawings of the 1950's; men with large booted feet, white
athletic sox, tight jeans, huge pecs with nips almost like male tits, and
very well packed crotches.
As for Mike, he knew that he looked this way, and he was thrilled at the
lust he engendered in other men. His crotch was big and packed well, in his
skin tight too-small workout shorts, or his ass-hugging denim jeans. He
liked it, because he had not always been this erotic, this sexual, this
perverse in his own sluttishness. It was a new feeling for him, to be
wanted, desired, lusted after, and frankly, Mike never tired of it. Mike
was, or was viewed by many who saw him, as nothing more than a male slut,
and a desirable one-as he blatantly showed off the sexual toys nature had
given to him.
That is why, when Mike left the party alone last night, there were those
that called him a `prick tease.' That was often the name given to him by
the studs in the gym who wanted him as well. It seemed as if Mike's nips,
like small dicks, were continually in a state of arousal, waiting to be
touched, licked, sucked and chewed on, while his bulging package seemed
ready and waiting, for a wet mouth or eager ass to swallow his monstrous
dick.
And if you thought that right now, seeing Mike in bed, draped in silky and
sexy lingerie, you would be right. For that is what Mike's body was- that
of a whorish male, a sexual nympho whose nipples had become, under his
gentle touches, small extensions of the male erotic - additional sources of
arousal and pleasure, which now, as Mike began to pinch his `tits,' as he
called them, with a severity that surprised even him, it made his mantits
come alive-engorged with blood, aroused, and ready for sex.
Almost magically, the microchip began the second stage of its wonderful
task. And suddenly, Mike's whole erotic nature was alive. The implants did
their job, as they always did. Quickly, Mike was fully awake, and below his
garter line, engorged almost immediately, his 9" thick uncut dick strained
and throbbed, causing it to spring up between the straps holding his
crotchless hose. This snake of his, dripping with precum and needing a
hole, a mouth, a hand, anything, to bring it to ejaculation, and quickly -
soon became the center of Mike's attention.
`Oh yeah, fuck, mmmm yesss, ` Mike moaned, just the barest hint of a
feminine lisp on that last word, as the microchip sent more and more
signals to enhance the pleasure centers of his brain, which made even the
barest touch of his sexual organs a caress of full-blown lust. Building to
a frenzy, Mike's right hand left his aching and distended nipple, and he
began to stroke the monstrous dripping cock that gave so much pleasure to
so many men.
His mind flooded with lust, Mike let himself go, and surrendered to the
moment. "Oh, yesssss,' he moaned, his husky baritone filled with sex. While
all around him, the bedclothes and his lingerie made every inch of his body
an erogenous zone, ready for more, more, more! Mike let his other hand grab
the balls of his heavy sack, as his hand continued to jack his
tool. Bending his knees, and lifting his pelvis, Mike began to fuck his own
hand, dreaming of a tight asshole that he could drive his manmeat into with
abandon. His perfectly manicured finger toyed with the rosebud of his ass,
and easily slipped in. His chute had been greased in anticipation of a
tryst last night, but nothing had happened. Now Mike would be the one to
sexually stimulate his tight, hot hole, his hot `asspussy.'
Mike's moans grew in intensity, and his voice began to change in timbre and
range as he gave in to the enhanced lust. The microchip, sensing a shift in
Mike's yin and yang, began to send estrogen-like substances into his body,
to intensify the submissive feelings Mike was giving himself, as he played
with his ass, and felt up his `pussy.' This was the beauty of the chip,
and its most sought after feature, to those who knew of it. The design of
Mike's miracle invention allowed a male the same sensations that a woman
felt, as they were engaging in intercourse. Multiple orgasms, and a
sluttish submissiveness were available at the merest thought or
manipulation of a man's sexual femme side. Very few men knew or cared that
such additional pleasure was possible, (in fact, it scared some away from
using the chip altogether) but Mike had learned that is was an integral
part of his existence, this femme side of himself, just as his massive dick
was. He let himself go deeper, further into the feelings of wanton lust....
The pleasure built and his cock swelled to prepare for its release of
cum. Mike, sweaty now, and thrashing on the bed in his unbridled lust, was
screaming, "Yes, fuck, yes, oh god, mmmmm, MORE!" Too soon, too soon, the
cum exploded out of Mike's cock slit, rolling up the long dick, shooting
out the head, as Mike's screams of joy went higher and higher, his voice at
least an octave higher than when he began. It was as if the hormones were
changing, shifting, finding the right mix of male and female in their
attempt to aid in the pleasuring of the man as he came, to allow him some
forbidden feminine pleasure, as his maleness erupted at his command.
Mike's mind was very slow to clear. As he gazed at his dick, it
continued to cum, at least a quarter cup, drenching his lingerie, his bed,
and racking Mike's psyche, as his body shook with the intensity of the now
normal multiple climaxes he so often had, when he gave himself
pleasure. For Mike loved to jack off, dreaming of the men who could please
him-especially those hyper masculine studs, the bodybuilders, the leather
men, or the construction workers on his building sites, who longed for him;
all of them knowing full well he preferred sex with them while he was
dressed in lingerie, or at least men's silk pajamas. Mike was kinky, they
knew that. But it was a turn on to them as well. The men who were
comfortable in their manhood thought it `fuckin' hot,' and vied with each
other for a taste of Mike's cum, his lips, or his ass.
Mike also took pleasure in those androgynous, overtly feminine men he knew,
who,
adoring the mix of confident male and aware feminine side, that Mike
was-these `boygirls'
pleased him often sexually. These prettyboys, transvestites, and
transexuals,
often being more `woman' than real genetic girls, were masters of their
sexual lust,
and it was one of them who had first taught Mike how to enjoy that lust in
himself.
Mike also loved to help these prettyboys and tv's with their hormones,
breast enhancements,
or anything that they wanted, in order so that they could pleasure him, in
their desire
to be more androgynous and feminine. Mike adored those lovely sweet things
with a cock and tits, who loved to have Mike screw them over and over, and
then,
with some help from the on-staff doctor Mike kept at his office, enable
them
to engorge their once useless clitcocks, so that Mike could be fucked by
the boygirls and trannies who had long since lost the use of their manmeat.
Mike loved all forms of male sex. Hell, he just loved sex, often and a lot
of it. Even with all this lust at his disposal, Mike had not viewed
himself as a `slut' -at least, not until recently! He was not as
one-dimensional as the press and his fans saw him. He was a relatively
quiet man, who could party when he wanted, and indulge himself, as he had
done now. Mike was a real man, who still loved quiet nights, walks on the
beach, and good food, fine clothes, tailored suits, and' culture' (art
movies, Opera, Ballet, Symphony). Still, with his looks, his fortune, his
insatiable need for sex, he was alone. Mike didn't mind it, but when he
thought back on his last five years, he began to wonder if he would ever
find that `special man' that would fill the hole in his heart... But when
his nips made him into a `male sex machine,' as his ad campaigner had
proclaimed to those who had bought his invention, Mike, like all the men
who had the Sex Rings, thought of nothing but sex.
A famous Rock star, David Le Raw, the one with the long blond hair, tiny
hips and grinding crotch, had had the Sex Rings installed last year. Now,
as part of his act, strutted in his skimpy skin-tight leather and latex
pants just as before. But then came the part of the act where David undid
his codpiece, got hard, and came at least five times in a row within the
last fifteen minutes of the show, on stage and in full view of the
increasingly gay crowd that worshipped him, and to the whoops and hollers
of his still-loyal female fans. All of this was accomplished while other
band members licked, chewed, and twisted David's tits with their mouths,
hands, or guitars, all the while playing riffs on their instruments,
gyrating to the thumping beat! Cowds went wild, and this had become such a
part of David's rock legend, that the latest album cover was just a picture
of David's erect tits!
Mike never thought he could be so blatant, so lewd in public. But, even so,
when wearing these rings, all other concerns paled into the background of
that urgent, pulsating lust when the rings were activated...
"Yeah!, yesss, oh fuck!,' Mike moaned, his sexual high finally abating, the
multiple waves of orgasm slowly receding, as his voice dropped into its
normal register. His hand job had left him yearning for more, wanting to do
it again and again, this next time with a nice big dildo, or some tit
clamps, just to add to the sensations. But Mike did not give in to that
temptation, at least not this morning. It was comforting to know that sex
on demand was always there- the huge erection, the full cum loads, the
exhilarating feeling of it all. Mike was able to make it happen, merely at
the barest suggestion of his mind, and some conscious manipulation of his
sexy `tits.' Mike never sexually tired now, he never gave less than a cum
load that would fill a handful, and he could do it as often as he
wanted. He felt like a god.
As Mike licked his cum from his hands, and touched his nipples and
aureoles, now distended in their rings a good inch from the flat nips he
once thought were what all men had been cursed with, Mike began to think
back to that time, when he was a rather `normal' man, whose fame, sexual
potency, and quick business mind were nowhere in evidence- at least not to
Mike!
All Mr. Carson saw in himself back then, was a man who had just gotten
fired from a job. A job he hated. It seemed as though he was a failure, a
man on the other side of 35, looking good, looking younger in face and
body, but faced with the idea that soon old age would be upon him, and the
waste of a life spent in a dead-end career would be all he would have to
show for it. Then there was also, that nagging idea, that he had never
`really lived.'
That is, not until he had met Libidina, the man-woman who had introduced
him to the sexual lust to which he now indulged himself on a regular basis.
Mike had become, as the press called him, a full time `milllionaire male
slut.' While that was not true, it made Mike proud. Men wanted him, He
could have any man at any time. But, more than that, he brought sexual
satisfaction to a growing legion of his `customers.' While Mike was resting
in the afterglow of solo sex, he thought of her, of Libidina, and how `she'
had transformed his life. Could it be only three and a half years ago that
he had come up to her while staying at the hotel above the bar in Laguna
Beach, while he was on vacation? Or more appropriately, during the last
days of his old job?
Mike began to relive that magic moment, when all sexual lust had been made
known to him for the first time, and he began to think back over the last
ten years of his life as well......
