My Lord, What A Morning

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    The first thing that Chris knows, upon rolling over, is that his body is at attention long before the rest of his conscious self is. Onto his stomach, he feels pressure, longing, the pull of something greater than his need for rest. It’s daylight, he can tell by the way his room is warm and he’s sweating. He kicks the sheets off, and pulls his pillow to him. He huffs a breath, and retightens his eyes to try and fall back into the lull of slumber.

    It’s been fitful, trying to get more than six hours lately. Full moons disorient and disrupt his body cycles, every single time - and peaceful rest is always the first to fucking go. It fucking sucks, a lot, and the knowing that he’s not getting what he needs is just fucking painful. He tries counting backwards, he breathes deep and steady - nothing, nothing grants him what he wants. He tries to ignore it, the heat, the feeling of immense stiffness between his legs and growing up from his body.

    When he feels down his stomach, all he discovers is himself lying in a widespread puddle of wetness. He panics, for a moment - it’s not piss. It’s something thicker, muskier; precome. Precome from his huge, long erection, nestled up at an angle along his stomach to near the bottom of his chest. Fleshy, pulsing, and heavy, his penis flares the moment he looks at it. Asking the gods, and being granted the penis of a stallion wasn’t nearly as strange as actually waking up every morning with one. And he does. It’s always fucking there, and the grumble of inconvenience he felt is gone the moment that he rolls onto his back and he caresses the wide glans, decorated at the bottom with a thick capture ring.  

    Is it still considered a Prince Albert if it’s not a completely human cock? The position is the same, but… man and the beast that Apollo took inspiration from aren’t the same. Blame Chris being greedy, for being too horny, or something - at least it healed quickly. He strengthens and tenses the muscles, his foggy-brained frustration replaced by his own lustful hunger. He thumbs over his round, wide opening, making his hips shift from the touch. He’s such a fucking easy turn on, especially with this thing between his legs.

    He spreads his thighs. His testicles fall down into the looseness of his sack, massive to match the penis that he’s so endowed with. The dream he was having comes back, the one that made him so fully erect even in slumber. He was getting milked by one of his friends, at least he thinks so - he was facedown, so he couldn’t exactly see who was touching him. It felt really fucking good, whomever it was. They definitely knew what they were doing. He falls back into the way the dream felt, intense, warm, wet, enough that before long he’s on the cusp of his edge. Feels almost perfect, missing only the sensation of hands that don’t fully belong to him.

    Chris grips his stallion penis with two hands, right on top, the left below. He ruts into his own grip, the head pointed directly at his face. Pointing upwards to masturbate is a little too much, but like this, he gets to watch every flare and widen of his glans, the throb of veins that go all the way down to his sheath. He makes circles on his crown with his right hand and uses his left to milk the bottom half, drawing up these thick rivers of precome to leak out onto his hairy chest. 

    He groans, loudly, going lightheaded from the intensity of his own sensations. He can’t articulate what he feels, simply that he does. Chris has always enjoyed intense masturbation, his best form of love to his own body, but this takes it to a level that his brain is still trying to comprehend. He sits up a bit, giving himself more room. A slight bend of his upper body and he can lick the precome gushing from his tip, and that arouses him even further. He already knows that he’s about to devote another day to this, to making himself feel good. 

    There’s no widening his mouth to suck his whole head - so he places his tongue right over his slit and licks away, edging his erection until he’s trembling. He can’t run out of come; it shoots, massive, forceful, every time he orgasms, but he wants to build this one a while. His heart is starting to pound with the rush of his neediness, deep from within his body. Another groan rumbles from his lips, and he tilts his head back, the salty-neutral taste of precome heavy on his tongue. He reaches for his phone and pulls up some of his favorite porn. 

    There’s this guy, this really, really handsome guy that does full cock milkings, and Chris, eventually, wants to work up the nerve to reach out to him and put himself in his hands. Until then, he’s got himself, and… well, he supposes he could wake up the rest of the house. Henry and Jared are probably still fast asleep, since full moons don’t seem to bother them at all. He reaches high and takes a few photos to send, making sure that they can see everything. They’ll be on their morning wood soon enough, too. Chris hopes that his stuff helps them along. 

    The need to piss gets him up before much longer - but he doesn’t cease in watching porn, either. He stands at the edge of the shower and lets himself go, a grunt of pleasure echoing off the tiles. He flexes his hard cock, shaking out the last few drops, and revels in the heavy, bouncing swing as he goes back into this bedroom. A deeper breath in of the air bring musk, come, sweat to his nostrils, and it gets his precome dripping again. It makes a thick, silvery trail as he eyes his lube near the window; his stroke mount calls to him, and alright, he can edge while he fucks it. 

    Fleshjack doesn’t normally make a toy for a cock like his, so he sent in a custom design, and they delivered in stupendous fashion. He uses his own precome to lube his erection, copious as it is, and greases the inside of his toy with coconut oil. That scent is always going to trigger him off, from the days of his youth when things weren’t so enormous. Call that one a battlefield necessity, when he found out that he could make himself feel really, really good with his hand. He’s generous with it, really generous, and by the time he’s sufficiently wetted the inside, he’s fucking horny.

    Penetrating the toy always sends a rush of lust up his spine, and this time is no difference. The bare floor in this corner of the room is stained with his inhumanly sized loads, the walls too, just depending on the direction in which he feels like aiming. He casts his phone to the television nearby, to keep watching the porn that makes him the hardest. He grips both handles of the mount, positioned just right so he can keep a firm hold and not fuck the thing over. It’s solid, heavy, metal, built to withstand even when he’s in the deepest of horny ruts. 

    He takes it slow, for a long while, letting his hips do the work. His balls are picking up some swing, and it feels fucking awesome, powerful, especially with the sun starting to beat down across his body through the open window. If someone sees him, so much the better. Chris takes a hand off to reach down and rub near his piercing, his cock fucked through the open end of the toy. His vision blurs, his toes curl, and an orgasm draws near - he stops, giving into the gentlest of thrusts. He widens his stance for more traction - in, out, in, out, keeping his breathing even.

    There’s a change in the air around him. He doesn’t have to look to see if Henry or Jared has entered, he knows them by scent, by their gait. In the window, he sees Henry, eyes hooded with want, and he wraps his arms around Chris from behind. Apollo smiled upon him as well, and his own beastly erection pushes against the back of Chris’s full, full testicles. “I thought you could use a little help,” he purrs. Chris turns in for a kiss, and Henry sucks his tongue right into his mouth. Strong, skilled hands reach for his chest, tugging, rubbing his hard nipples. Hot, fiery want trips heavy down the length of Chris’s body. He has to stop thrusting for a moment, his penis flaring wide, huge, strong enough that his precome pisses out. The spurt lands heavy on the floor, dripping down the front of the mount in a heavy, gooey string. 

    “Do that again,” Henry says. Chris obeys. His knees shake, and Henry bites his earlobe. A ropey pulse of precome splatters the wall this time, and his control slips further. Henry changes his focus, still pressed close - but he reaches down, down, down, pressing on the space behind Chris’s balls, pulling and rubbing them, encouraging them to shoot a huge load of sperm. Chris can’t take that sort of stimulation at length without cresting that ridge; his head catches on that just right spot and his ejaculation shoots out with incredible force, far, far beyond the normal volume of man. Over and over his semen splatters, and Henry holds him through it, making sure he’s properly drained. It renders Chris nearly mindless. His contentment is palpable, but his erection still holds strong. He thrusts a handful of more times, and then be backs out, his penis swinging down, heavy.

    Henry licks his lips, his own erection pointing skywards, dripping with a copiousness that is only granted by the touch of the divine. The gods kept the best bits for themselves, but the second best is perfectly fine for earthly dwellers such as themselves. “Now that you’ve warmed it up for me, would you mind…” Henry gestures to the oil, and Chris nods.

    Henry’s massive stallion penis flares and flexes as Chris lubes him, stopping to taste the precome that coats his fingers as well. Henry has a sweeter palette to his, and Chris has never found the point of it being enough for him. He stands side by side to Henry as he penetrates the space where his own penis just occupied, pushing in slowly against the pleasantly firm material. There’s a long beat of him letting it stretch to his girth, and Chris hardens again with him. Henry’s nipples are hard too, starpoints among his coat of chest hair. Chris gets an idea, and goes to his toy box. He finds clamps on a chain, and behind Henry, attaches them to his sensitive tits. 

    There’s a grumbling moan of pleasure, and once attached, Chris gives them a strong tug. Henry growls, and his hard-on stiffens enough to bend slightly upward at the end. Good. “Fucking hot,” Chris tells him. Henry bites at his mouth again, hungry for a kiss, and sticking close, Chris pulls on the chain as Henry starts to get into the fuck of his hips, pleasuring himself fully. Chris makes him lift his arm, his hairy pit exposed. Deep in he dives with his tongue, his need to get more of Henry overwhelming. Henry swears as he fucks harder, and the musk that fills the air as he sweats is intoxicating. Chris wishes he had more than two hands to get on him, badly. He shoves his tongue, covered in Henry’s body, into Henry’s mouth, letting him taste himself.

    Henry groans - Chris knows that noise. It means his penis is in complete control, and all Henry can do is strap himself in for the ride. He moves away and palms over the flared crown of his clans, rounder than his own, giving Henry an extra touch of stimulation. His grip on the mount is strong enough that he pulls and moves it an inch, trying to back it down harder onto his cock - but he slams to the hilt with every thrust. There’s white froth worked up all along his shaft, a mix of oil and precome from the near frictionless slide that they’ve both created. Chris moves to touch and rub his penis to the exposed part of Henry’s, wild with that same need. 

    Precome gushes, noisy as it squelches in the toy, from Henry’s throbbing erection. His eyes roll back, he thrusts faster and faster, and Chris resumes his pull on the nipple chain. He’s looking over Henry’s shoulder as his orgasm rockets out of him, a messy spray that obscures the place where Chris’s load found its resting place. He grunts and swears, primal in his urge to satisfy his body. His satisfaction can be touched, it seems, as he pulls his penis out and what come remains drips to the floor, hanging on strings of clear precome. Chris kisses him, kisses the hot need right from his mouth. 

    Only when another pair of familiar hands caress and rub his shoulders does Chris pull away, and right into Jared’s scruffy-jawed mouth does his tongue go. What’s good for Chris and Henry, is good for Jared too; somehow, he wound up with the largest of all, and Jared was big before Apollo blessed him. His musky penis is hot to Chris’s skin, and there’s a moment where Chris tries to add up the total inches of all the cock currently in this room. Not a chance. He drops to his knees and licks the thick bottom section of Jared’s heavy erection. Jared rumbles a good boy, and winds his fingers through Chris’s hair. Henry commands a kiss from Jared, and they delve into each other as Chris sniffs Jared’s pubic hair, licks his cock, all the way to the end. He circles his tongue around Jared’s opened piss hole, a river of precome growing steadily in volume as he works the tip of his tongue into him. Jared moans - he’s needy for it too, to fuck and unload. 

    “We’ve got it ready for you,” Henry tells him. The scent of their come already unleashed is heavy upon the air, and Jared breathes deep. Chris performs the same lubing on Jared as he did Henry, and does the same for the mount. Jared lets himself be guided into it, and watching the full body tense of their friend as he penetrates deserves to be captured in so many ways. Jared swears and growls, and Chris positions himself to watch the broad tip punch out of the end. His own cock lays up the length of his body, and Henry takes the chain off to put on Jared. Those nipples are perky and ready, and Chris drools a bit when Jared moans loudly at the first tug.

    Over and over again he strokes his massive penis, watching Jared thrust, all three of them in the full thrall of their erections. The gods smile upon them, Chris knows this for sure. Jared’s hair falls forward, sticking to his face with sweat, the slap-slap-slap of his balls against the mount getting really fucking loud. That’s enough for Chris to pick up his next wave of pleasure, and he opens his mouth, flexing his penis to squirt his viscuous precome onto his tongue. Henry gets this wild look, and he leave Jared’s side to kiss Chris, making sticky, heavy, spit-mixed trails between their mouths. Their cocks brush, overcharged with sensitivity.

    “Do that again,” Jared says - so they do. He thrusts harder and harder, chasing the high. Chris kneels before him, his erection heavy in his hands, mouth open and head tilted back. He locks gazes with Jared, ready to receive. He laps at his precome, laps at his flared glans, and there’s zero fucking warning before Jared’s penis erupts, soaking, painting Chris white. The warm, heavy volume of come hitting his face is enough to spur Chris to another climax, and quite a lot of it shooting between Jared’s naked feet.

    Henry steps between the two of them and raises his leg - Chris knows what he wants. He devours his hairy taint and hole, feeling the tensing of his body before he shoots and nails the wall. It’s so, so much come, and Chris comes this close to licking the damn paint dry. At the very least, he’s not going to complain about being awakened by his own body anymore.

    Jared backs out of the mount, and holds his still throbbing erection in his hands. “Don’t you think you should send a message first, warn a guy ‘hey, I’m stroking off, come join’ - fucking hell, Chris, those photos were hot.” That bit of praise, fuck, it means a lot to him. 

    Chris grins. “I thought the whole having an erection thing was invitation enough - Henry seemed to get it just fine.” Henry’s busy licking come from his fingers, and he looks damned fucking hot while doing so. “If you need to piss, now’s the time, because I’m not letting the two of you out before I drain you a few more times.” He’s serious - the only thing he likes more than masturbating himself is servicing his studs.

    Henry and Jared exchange a look, and Chris licks some more of Jared’s come from his jaw. “Fair, yeah. Alright.” Jared loosens his stance and goes to the bathroom, followed by Henry a moment later. Their piss is noisy as it hits the shower and the toilet, and it bones Chris back up to hear. His legs are still shaking, and he uses a towel to wipe himself off - he’ll certainly need it again. He lays on the bed, right in the middle, trying to catch his breath. There’s going to be a soaking mess amongst the three of them by the time they’re done, so he may as well be as comfortable as possible for the duration.

    And, at some point, he supposes there should be breakfast but… until the swelling goes down, they’ll just have to wait.

    Could do with some water, however.