1
The Dark Rider
I enjoyed the sounds he made when I fucked him. He was sincere, not holding back, not trying to make himself more desirable by angling his body in a different way or by moaning when he didn’t feel it. He’d come already but wanted more. His slick hole tightened around my cock, and I growled with yet another wave of heat.
“You want my cum in your mouth?” I asked. I knew he liked to swallow it.
Instead of answering, he flipped around and, kneeling on the floor in front of me, opened his mouth under my cockhead just in time to catch my spill. My cock pulsed in my hands. Blissful currents spread from my balls into my belly, and my empty chest warmed. He licked and suckled on my cock, dipping his tongue into the slit and humming with the taste. He was hard again, stroking himself slowly. His lust intrigued me.
“You’re greedy,” I told him with a smile.
He kissed my slit and looked up into my eyes.
“It’s the last time I get to taste you, isn’t it?” His tone was matter of fact, only a hint of regret in his words.
“Yes.”
He licked once more, closing his eyes, drawing the last drops out of me.
I’d regret him too. He was a good hole. He’d been here for seventeen days, a handsome man, clever and keen, barely twenty-eight, at the peak of his strength and beauty. I liked the way he smelled and how his body shuddered impaled on my cock.
“Will you fuck me again?” he asked.
“Bend over the bed.”
He stood and turned his back to me, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed. He groaned with renewed arousal when I pushed my cock into him. His ring widened to capacity. I didn’t sink deeper into his hole than two-thirds of my length. He couldn’t take me whole. When I fucked him like this, he only whimpered when the sensation became too intense, but never from pain. He came after a few minutes, his hole spasming on my cock in a frantic rhythm, wrangling another orgasm out of me.
I pulled out and held his ass cheeks open, looking my fill. His rim was red with use, and my seed oozed out of him. I’d bred his hole twice tonight. If I let him rest, I could wake him later and fuck him two times more. But he’d already stayed for too long.
He shuddered, his soaked hole clenching in front of my eyes, and the strings of liquid glistened in the light of the fire.
“Thank you,” he said. He reached into his crease with his hand and pushed some of my seed back inside. He sighed when he straightened. He looked vulnerable now, the passion gone, only his nakedness and the scent of fresh human cum reminding me of my few minutes of simple enjoyment.
I pulled my robe closed and tied the knot. It was time for him to leave.
“There is a bath ready for you in the room opposite this one. Your clothes are there, clean.”
“This is it?” I even liked the way he looked at me. Inquisitive and with emotion. If I asked, he’d stay.
“I enjoyed your body. You are a good lover and will make many men happy.” It was true.
He gave me a sad smile and nodded. “Good-bye, then.”
“Good-bye and good luck.”
The door closed noiselessly, and I was alone. I’d never see him again.
I went to wash my cock in the basin in the corner and then opened the double door to the balcony. I tore the sheets off the bed, folded them, and placed them on the floor in the adjoining changing room. My people would take care of them in the morning. I didn’t need fresh sheets—my bed wasn’t for me to sleep in. I’d been awake for three thousand years.
I lit my pipe and stood outside on the balcony, watching the stars. The scent of the human man slowly left my room, carried away by the night breeze, replaced by fine tobacco and herbs.
It was a mild night in late spring, the sky clear, only the muted noises from the stables disturbing the absolute quiet. Should I have let him stay longer? It might take time to find a good lover again. He was easy to be with, straightforward, and he liked what I did to him. Yet if he stayed longer, he’d get to know me, and I’d get to know him. Human lives were hasty and transient, like shooting stars: