Jon considered himself an accomplished yogi, but damn! Doing God’s work was hard on the knees, the goddess’s work in this case. Peering into those abyssal eyes—those pink and blue nebulae, crazed with ecstasy—Moby Dick references would no longer suffice. This was a full-on Kracken.

The hallowed commandment of ‘never sticking your dick in crazy’ had been transgressed, but this crazy he could categorically not allow to roam free. Innocent lives were at stake. So, sinner such as he was, Jon had limbered up to the task.

After attending to Ril’s insatiable needs, as best he could, turnabout was fair play. They flipped, and she remained adroitly on him as they did so. They were adamantly fused at the hip, mind-numbingly gorgeous legs wrapped firmly around him.

When on top, she pushed up with her hands on his chest and gave him a spectacular view: a smile that could melt celluloid on a face and body that could launch a million ships.

The opalescent sheen of her immaculate skin was completely hairless everywhere save for her head. And there, the colours danced and jived with her rocking. The peaks and curves from her tight and toned waist to her pert hemispherical breasts defied astronomical classification.

“Ahhhhh.” She exhaled a long and guttural sigh, as she rose up and ground down on him, arching her head and back pushing out her lower ribs. He ran his hands gingerly over the bumps and ridges, coming to rest on her curvaceous midsection and hips. She was undoubtedly a masterwork.

“Thaat’s it, go deeeep in me. Estimating your size was a particular vexation of mine.” Returning her gaze, she began slight and slow gyrations on him. “Couldn’t be too cavernous or too tight. The ‘glove’ must fit the ‘hand’, no?”

Sound logic, if ever he heard it. Lactic build-up had started trickling from her nipples again, glistening down her sumptuous breasts. Getting to work, he sat up to imbibe the goddess’s nectar. Gently suckling on a tit, warm vanilla milk filled his mouth with one or two pulls before alternating to the other breast. She did not produce overwhelming amounts; he was a grown man, after all. It was just enough to keep the taste and smell of her ever-present while she rutted gleefully on him.

Moans and groans were his feedback metric.

“Hmmm, definitely the right size.” Forcibly pushing him back to the bed, she explained, “You see adapted vaginal muscles handle far more precisely what a tight pussy could not. We have to leave space for contraction…” An all-encompassing tightness gripped his shaft, making him gasp. “…and relaxation.” She released him and began undulating contractions up and down on his penis. Her body might be an exquisite blank canvass, but that technique was surely earned to some degree.

Supped and satiated Jon let Ril have her way with him. That intra-workout was something he would lean heavily on. As it was, reevaluating his supplement stack would be necessary—essential amino acids before bed, perhaps. Increased pumps worked in more ways than just muscles.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Jonathan had this time to think, because while Ril might be a hypersensitive cunt and designed so, he was an insensitive prick, literally.

Where choice had increased her pleasure immeasurably, events beyond his control had formed him. His cock was an admirable old thing, but after circumcision, he was unmistakably less sensitive, and it could take a fair beating.

But there was more. For many, sex was an esoteric thing which people preferred to keep a mystery. For him, it was merely another area of study; the intricacies of gendered attraction and in particular the mapping of his mind was of immeasurable value. Men and sex were generally given a bad wrap, but the key for many of them was that libido and attraction were essentially decoupled. So while she rode him inexorably to climax, he contemplated his existential predicament.

They say staring into the void would make it stare back, but it was only there that Jon truly found his humanity. On the precipice between knowledge and ignorance, humanity stood.

He imagined Stone Age hunters’ eyes peering up at the stars having no framework to understand the chasm, but wondering in awe nonetheless. And there he lay now the abyss gyrating on his hips in ever so sensual motions.

Rilian van Ster, ‘Rilian from the stars’, and she was a stellar blackness that could swallow him up. How far had she come; how far had she been? What was he in comparison to that? A sparkling scintilla trapped in her gravitational pull.

Perhaps it was all meaningless and hopeless. Jon drank her divine visage in, a maddening beauty what made minds recoil in preservation. That was the sane response, the safe, the known. Instead, he stepped forth into the darkness. Even for him, he would not last much longer, so he sat up, bowing his legs outward, knees bracing on the soft and supple skin of her lower legs as she knelt on him.

“What are you…?” He slid right up into her, her face became his universe, those blazing eyes being the all-consuming light. His hand found the pulse on her neck.

Not giving out, up, or in, he simply gave. A gift Rilian could never buy or earn, nor could she refuse, or even compensate him for it. A worthless thing: gratitude.

“No, no, no!” she uttered in unhinged rasps. “You scream, you cry, or do anything else but this!”

“Shhhhhh.” His thumb traced her lips, silencing her quips.

Below, her body churned on him and he on her. It conversed a different, primal language.

In the barest of whispers, he breathed with her. “There you are.” Fluttering eyelids were the first signs of her involuntary orgasm, followed by her vaginal walls spasming on him.

He tipped over the edge almost immediately. As two interlocked animals, eyes transfixed, they rode through the mind-blowing pleasure, and he ejaculated while rooted squarely within her.

Aftershocks and clipped murmurs reverberated for a minute afterwards, and Jon spread the biggest triumphant smile he could manage through the panting.

A strange thing happened with Ril: terrified eyes flickered once more, and she fainted right there still pegged on him. Jon caught her as her body went limp and carefully guided her head to the pillow. Her pulse was slowing but steady, and her chest, wet with milk, was breathing regularly.

“Welcome back Rilian of the Stars. I wonder where you’ve been.” It was another whisper as he lay next to her statuesque impassive expression.

Jon drained and licked her dry before turning in for the night. No sense in sleeping over split milk, after all.