0 comments/ 11038 views/ 2 favorites Goldenrod Extended By: rlmmike As I sat cross-legged in bed with my netbook on my lap, I got a video chat invitation from Ray. "Come in, Ray," I said. "Samantha, you are such a nerd." The camera on her was positioned at the corner of a massage table where Ray was reclining in a black sports bra and tight matching shorts. Shaky reception didn't fail to capture the pinkish, fourteen-inch plastic horse cock sprouting from her open fly, nor the thin strand of resilient fluid connecting its tip to the white sheet below her. Standard practice at her studio was to fill the hidden reservoir of such a device with a thoroughly diluted cottage cheese solution. Her eyes brightened as she propped herself up on her right elbow. "I like the new haircut!" I smiled and nodded, acknowledging the increased similarity in our styles. The long, plain 'do of my youth was now officially a thing of the past. My hand ran through the hazel tufts. "You think it's me?" "It looks fantastic, and it'll help immeasurably when it comes time for you to penetrate somebody, not having all those loose strands flapping in your eyes, believe me." Ray adjusted her posture in response to some cue from off-screen. When she was flat on her back with her arms at her sides, and the dick pointing straight up, a male intern in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants entered the background. She craned her neck to look at the webcam without lifting her head from the tiny pillow. The assistant, whose name I knew to be Peter, rubbed oil between his palms and then leaned over Ray to vigorously coat and tenderize the fronts of her bare, heavy legs from the table's edge with long, deliberate lunges of his upper body. "Matter of fact, that's what I want to talk to you about," Ray continued. My own back grew erect as I instantly became attentive to her orders. The young man kneaded the firm white flesh of Ray's thighs without affecting her concentration in the slightest. I realized that it must only have been a week ago that she had him leaving ads around the city, printed on vinyl footprints that were made to stick to the sidewalk. A short stay at her gym convinced many employees to sign on for a deeper instruction of some kind or another. "I'm sending you a movie file. It's an interview conducted here with a troubled college guy who I think you might be able to help. This would be a first for you, understand?" I nodded. "Study has been intense lately. I have no doubt about my grasp of theory. Physical application alone is untested." Ray's face darkened knowingly. "We know how vital the difference between those can be." The boy ran his thumbs over the top of her shining foot while the pads of his fingers cradled the balls and arch. He was oblivious to her change in tone. "Acknowledged." The message she had sent me was clear: a warning not to trust desire or the strength of my body in the performance of my art. To become intoxicated by them could prove disastrous not only for the client, but to myself as well. Fortunately for all concerned I was known at Ray's school as The Geeky Venus, and neither my passion nor brute force was likely to be any danger. That was of course why she was trusting me. "Good," she said, and relaxed. "Give me a ping when you're done with the session to let me know how it went." Peter was cupping her voluptuous thigh by sliding both hands up its length. "By the way, Samantha?" She caught him gently by the wrist as he reached her hip, and carefully dragged his digits along the top of her thigh to her strapped-on phallus, so that his grip closed around the base. "Don't talk like a nerd." He gulped. The grinning face bordered by spiky black hair disappeared, leaving a flashing alert on the screen to signify that I'd received her document. "I'm not a nerd," I grumbled, and pushed my heavy black glasses up the bridge of my nose. The person in question was named Jason T. In the file he sat at a table with a cup of coffee and recounted in detail how one of his neighbors had introduced him to strap-on sex during his senior year of high school. Apparently, she was a member of a women's baseball team, which enabled her to use her uniform as a fetish to ensnare him. Jason's countless fantasies of playing in the Major Leagues were twisted by the sadistic young woman into a powerful sexual obsession from which he'd found no escape. A typical afternoon encounter had him completing overdue homework assignments in bed, when he heard someone attempting entry at the patio doors. After darting downstairs to the kitchen he would discover the cause of his crippling anxiety, the average-sized but athletic Nicole C. standing against the marble counter top with a sinister penile bulge in her pants and inky smudges under her cold, lusty eyes. At the sight of her black sneakers, white knee socks, and red jersey, he knelt helplessly before the dynamic and insistent sports-siren. She roughly and slowly unbuttoned her trousers with feigned disgust to let the flesh-colored latex dick she wore spring free, and he inched forward on his knees to take her impressive girth embarrassingly into his mouth, as she commanded. On an unknown number of occasions the dark girl with the brown ponytail skewered him mercilessly on the family's dinner table as his snappish schnauzer Marty watched the penetration uncomprehending. Jason described her fucking technique as authoritative, and claimed her strokes were brisk and powerful. He said she often poised one cleated foot on a chair while pumping him, with a hold on his shoulder and her other hand resting comfortably on her hip. I called downtown to tell them I would take the case. Fifteen minutes later I received a response informing me that Jason was on his way to my apartment, and would be there shortly. Several deep breaths calmed me, and I quickly tidied up the modest living space. When he arrived I was struck again by how handsome he was, so that I had to remind myself to keep a professional distance. His mid-length hair was sandy and full, and his face luminously optimistic despite the hardships he'd endured. We introduced ourselves and sat on the futon so I could explain my familiarity with his situation, and what steps I was prepared to take to help him out of it. "Primarily important is that you trust me," I concluded. "But what you can do, it's more of the same. It means fucking me. Like Nicole does, did." "Not exactly. The act would have different associations for you, under my control. I would be able to offer closure; a happy ending, if you like." "A 'happy ending'? Like at a massage parlor?" "I'm not sure what you mean." "You don't know what that is? I thought you were a sex worker." "I'm a witch." He stood to go. "Ah, I'm not sure this is a good idea." "You're free to leave, if you wish," I said, rising too. "Doing so however would leave you imprisoned in your present model of existence. I don't believe you have anything to risk by letting me try to heal your psychic wounds." "My psychic wounds? I hyperventilate, sometimes just from thinking about her. I..." He began to pant. "Feel peace," I said, placing a thumbnail on his solar plexus. His respiration returned to normal. "What? How did you do that?" I merely smiled at him. "Do you want to give it a try?" He stood shamefaced. Finally, he spoke. "To be honest, I couldn't refuse if you demanded it from me." "It has to be your choice," I said. At that, he warmed. "Okay." Naked, I inserted the realistic strapless dildo from Ray's school into my vagina, lubricated it, and accustomed myself to its feel. Through the door I could sense Jason's nervousness as he waited on all fours upon my Persian rug. By Osiris, I thought, it's now or never. The door opened, but rather than experiencing fascination at the sight of a nude man crouched beneath me, vulnerable and waiting to be taken, I was shocked at my appearance in the darkened window that overlooked the adjacent housetops flowing down the hill and away into the night. I had never considered myself much to look at, but in the sketchy reflection framed by antique burgundy curtains like an old theater's stage, a vivacious if boyishly slender creature radiated enticing beauty into the room. My arm went up automatically to test that it was me, and surprise was replaced on the face by my usual sly expression. Two fingers restrained the rubber dick against my lower abdomen with a grace I ordinarily reserved for lifting my skirt when jumping over a puddle. With my other hand splayed over my hip, I advanced on my patient. Pausing with my feet well apart at his rear portal, I understood for the first time the temptation to misuse Ray's teachings. A last glance at the window revealed again the undeniably potent and alluring agent of love who had met me, and I was almost godlike in the vision. Smirking suddenly at the possibility of betraying my trust, I descended to begin the work that was needing to be done. After pushing his shoulders to the floor, I placed my right knee on the ground behind him and my small left foot beside his tilted ribcage. Then with a minimum of fuss I slid the veined rod into his posterior, and let my right fist swing beside me as I thrust at him gently, while the ends of the fingers of my left hand pressed firmly on his backside. The motion combined a slight down-and-up routine with the more typical in-and-out cycling. By utilizing my body's weight I thus ensured the movement was steadier and more forceful than anything I could accomplish solely with my musculature. In fact, by making a greater effort to restrain wild strikes than I made to create them, I projected the appearance of a surplus of energy as well as a calm confidence that gave me a psychological edge. Of course, this approach also held rational control at the forefront of my efforts, and eradicated the chance that my baser nature would prevail. My left knee swayed to and fro next to his declining form as my hips described a circle that from my right appeared to run counter-clockwise. Momentarily I had both hands lightly on his fleshy rump and had shifted to a linear forward/down implantation, which announced itself in a series of thuds. In spite of all my intellectualizing, I found the vigor of my work was gaining and taking an increasingly downward pitch. I stuck out my chin in fierce determination, and reined my drive back to an easy fluidity. To be honest, the way Jason quietly suffered my assault inspired me to open up on him, but I kept a cool head, nevertheless. His body lurched with every impact, and I mechanically slammed him in regular time. This proceeded for a quarter hour, the seconds of which I seemed to mark with kneads of his ass cheeks. Gradually his front end rose, and he glided softly backwards to meet the pounds of my crotch. When I felt his aura harmonizing with mine, I reversed this trend and depressed his torso to make him perfectly prone on the carpet. Then, I draped myself upon him and supported my trunk with bent arms while jabbing spiritedly into his back door. A wave of pleasure overtook me and I found my eyes scanning the room aimlessly, but I regained composure as quickly as possible and preserved the clinical tone of the activity, keeping my stabs measured and precise. All of a sudden I could perceive his mental block on the astral plane and I withdrew the cock, urging him to get upon his back on my futon with a cushion under his hips to elevate them. He complied without question. I reentered him with my right foot on the floor and my left beside him on the folded mattress. As I slid toward him he covered my rocking knee with his own, and my arm hovered above the merged limbs as a skydiver's would for leverage. My pelvis hungrily supplied the quakes that eroded the negative cloud within him, but all he experienced was an electrically growing ecstasy that threatened him with premature ejaculation. We shook as one like the needle of a metronome, and I gripped both his ankles at my ears as though they were prongs on the steering wheel of a great ship. At last I gained an ethereal awareness of his problem: the fucking he'd gotten from Nicole created a heightened vigilance that had been pummeling his mind constantly with sensory information. In order to relieve his tension, I would spur his unconscious wishes into prominence, and diminish the imagination that had enthralled him with thoughts of pro ball. Replacing his right leg on my left and stationing his left ankle on my right shoulder, I began to jerk his cock with my right hand between my abdomen and his thigh, in time with my bold thrusts I made into him. The fingers of my left hand caught the front of his vertical leg as my petite frame's undulations bounced it wildly. Jacking down on his meat with every inward push of my dick, I again added the effect of gravity to my bobbing by alternately flexing and relaxing my lower ankle. The spiritual surgery was a total success, and in only a minute the torment of his previous invasions departed him. As if banging a drum with my entire body, I brought him off skillfully in unison with the evaporation of his bad feelings, and though he never understood how it happened, he was granted freedom from Nicole's curse. I pulsed with golden light that only an initiate could see as I towered over him, but through the fog of confusion on his face I made out some realization of the forces at work. "How did you keep your glasses on?" was all he asked me. "Magic," I told him. Ray was in the middle of ass-fucking Peter when I videoed her back. The one-time masseur was trying to stop his face from smashing into the keyboard of her computer by digging his elbows into the collapsible table's cushion, and a beige wash towel was tied around his head at his mouth. Ray had him pinned beneath her pale, full body and was booming into him with her feet in the air above her knees and her hands securely gripping his shoulders from below. "Say hi to Samantha," she grunted. "Is this a bad time?" "Actually, Petey here gave me such a good rubdown that I felt he deserved some extra credit." She stopped her raucous wailing and spoke to his ear. "Enjoying your bonus, new guy?" I smiled as Ray vibrated her large rear end at a cosmic frequency that produced an involuntary orgasm from the intern. "Mm! Mm! Mm!" he exclaimed as his body strained and bucked against Ray's mass, and the crackling overload of pleasure she had given him. She jovially endured his attempts to thrash out from under her. "Mm," he sighed, and went limp. Her hips depressed his until a heavy drip of artificial come was audible from his ass, and she smiled. Then she resumed the playful hammering she'd been doling out when I called. "He appears to like it." "Pete's a real screamer. Hence the gag. He's got five minutes. I figure he'll come off two or three more times. What do you say, buddy?" "Mm mm m," he responded deliriously. Without slackening her pace, Ray looked intently at the camera. "How did it go with Jason?" "Everything went perfectly. He's one hundred percent cured." "Good. I knew you could do it, Samantha." Peter's head flailed lifelessly as she drove her tool through him. I tried to focus on her words. "Thank you, Ray. I'm grateful that you trusted me." "I do now," she said. "You passed my test. A mission of major significance is yours next. At dawn we'll chat here in person about a new friend of mine, named Tom." I nodded gravely, and her attention fell back on the assistant she was impaling. "For the moment, I owe junior here some spurts." "No," he moaned through the fabric, but biting her lower lip and squinting tightly, Ray cast her ferocious bulk forward three times, each of which knocked him closer to unconsciousness and caused his head to drop a couple more inches. His face crashed into her laptop as he passed out and it fell from its table to the floor. "Oh, damn!" Ray cried, as the connection was lost. Goldenrod Extended Ch. 02 "Hello, and welcome to this meeting of Dealing With Impotence. We have a new member today. Mark, would you introduce yourself?" "Hi, everybody. I'm Mark, and I can't get it up." "Tell us your story." "Okay. Well, it's been a recurring problem for me. I'm not in a relationship now, but I want to come to grips with this before I start another one, no pun intended." There was laughter from the bunch. "A connection with a girl is made, we start dating, everything is fine, and right when it starts to get serious, I'm droopy." "Do you believe it's psychological, then?" "It must be." "It's a fear of commitment?" "I guess so. The sex at first is fine, and then something changes. Isn't it always a fear? If it were physiological then counseling wouldn't help." "Actually, Mark, we have friends here tonight who are physically unable to become aroused, and they need our support." Two of the men waved at me. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize." "It's alright. Learning is a part of the process. There are, in fact, many causes of male impotence. For some people, pharmaceuticals in the water supply are to blame, while others believe it's stress created by our ever-quickening, technological society. No one factor can explain every problem." A man in a chair across from me coughed, and I glanced at him, noticing his newspaper on the wooden floor at his feet. The headline read GOLDEN FLOWER APPEARS TO HUNDREDS, and below it was a picture of the backs of several people as they stared at a meteorological disturbance. "Women steal our life energy, that's what does it!" "Okay, Stephen, we'll all have a chance to speak at the end," the leader said. "I'd like to pose a question, now," another man interjected gruffly. "Ralph, can it wait?" "No, this concerns all of us, not my opinion." "Go ahead." "Lately, some of our brothers haven't been seen at these groups. Joe and Dave haven't been here for three weeks, now why aren't we talking about that? And Pat and Troy stopped coming before them. Does anybody know why? I thought we were supposed to be a tight-knit crew. We're meant to look out for each other." "There have been unsavory characters hanging around outside the building!" the skinny one named Stephen yelled. "Female types!" "Now, Ralph, you see? You're getting Stephen riled. Everybody just relax." The men were shuffling nervously in their seats, and grumbling. "If our members haven't been showing up, we'll just have to assume they're not interested in coming, and wish them well." "I thought that was the whole point," I said. The room was silent. When the session finally ended, we filed out the front entrance of the gymnasium, and the clicking of cigarette lighters in the night air drowned out the chorus of grasshoppers. As the men divided into smaller numbers with different trajectories, I observed a huddle of women across the street similarly breaking up to pursue them, each keeping a careful distance from her assigned quarry, and moving at a leisurely pace. "Hey, Ralph, who are they?" I asked the older man as he donned his hat. "Mm? Oh, they're here sometimes. I think they're part of a new fringe culture that finds impotent men irresistible. They probably meet on the internet," he said, and departed. "Thanks." I decided to wait and see the last of them off, but as I stood there one of the girls remained on the sidewalk, mirroring my stare and smiling. Momentarily she approached me, and I took in her appearance. She wore Mary Jane shoes and navy blue tights under a light, semi-transparent skirt that fell past her knees, and her gray t-shirt hung loosely beneath a black denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves. Her long, blond hair was parted in the middle and fell straight in front and behind her. It framed a strong-jawed face with a nose that was slightly too large and beady eyes that seemed locked on me. The outfit suggested her curves were feminine, but also revealed her build was extremely solid. Altogether, her features proved powerfully attractive. "Hi, I'm Amy," she said when she'd reached me. "Mark." "You live near here? I'm new to the area, and need someone to guide me around. Would you help me?" "What do you need to find?" I asked. "I'll know when I see it," she said. In a few moments we were walking hand in hand, and a quick look down the street informed me that other men who'd attended the gathering were enjoying exactly the same good fortune. She managed to distract me from the oddity of the situation by continuing to look straight through me. "That's my car," she said, pointing. I shrugged and got in. While we rode, she activated the dashboard telephone. A young woman's voice answered. "Beehive." "This is Amy 43. I have one passenger. What's a nice place to stay for the evening?" "Are you equipped?" "Yes." "Standby." During the long pause that followed she ignored me with the same vehemence she'd displayed in studying me, her focus remaining on the road. "Nothing available," the dispatcher responded. "There must be. Look again." "Try a motel." Amy fumed. "Karen doesn't like motels, anymore. There was a memo, recently. Please advise." "Why don't we go to my place?" I asked, and she silenced me with a warning glower. "You're cleared at the tower," the voice came back after six seconds. "Copy," she said, and the connection was terminated. "You're in for quite a treat." She made a U-turn at the next traffic stop. "Navigational computers are really sophisticated these days." Her eyes fell on me briefly. Downtown, we pulled into the subterranean garage of a fifty story office building. A petite, uniformed, female security guard scanned the ID badge Amy pulled from her skirt pocket, and allowed us access to the elevator. The doors closed and it rose without either of us pressing any buttons. When it dinged, we stepped into a luxury suite with a panoramic view of the city, on the forty-seventh floor. "Make yourself comfortable," she said, and headed immediately for the bedroom with her big purse. I took off my shoes and plunked down on the huge red couch. When I noticed a remote control beside me, I picked it up and clicked-on the big screen television. The first thing to appear was a white male symbol on a blue background. A sideways white female symbol slid into the frame horizontally so that the cross entered the circle of the first icon. When that happened, the color of the screen changed to pink and a three-tone chime sounded. Then the cursive word Femtel faded-in, under the hybrid symbol. "Tonight at eight, the modern classic, 'Olga the Impaler'," a woman's voice said. "Then, at ten-thirty..." I changed the channel. On the next network a twenty-something woman standing in combat boots was holding a naked man by the hips, fucking him vigorously with a strap-on dildo in a featureless room, and grunting loudly with every thrust. That prompted me to surf. The porn was replaced with a similar scene shot so the heads of both people faced the camera, the lady sighing with pleasure as she rocked and the young man receiving her with a dazed and tear-streaked expression. Yet again, I lowered my thumb. Another couple stood in a castle hall, the male in only a red harness about his neck and chest and the female in nothing but a green one that hugged her hips and crotch. Switching once more, I saw a soft-lit soap opera featuring an attractive woman in a dark business suit, consoling a man dressed as a doctor on the sofa of a mansion's sitting room. She produced a pair of handcuffs from the end table drawer, and he nodded reluctantly. "Cable sucks," I said, turning it off. "Miss me?" Amy asked, over my shoulder. I turned to see her wearing her navy tights, a black bra, and a strap-on harness like the ones that had been on TV. She had obviously been expecting my shocked reaction, and savored it fully. "What are you planning to do with that?" She spryly and happily sat on the cushion adjacent to mine. "Well, you're impotent, and I need to get laid, so I guess I'm going to have to fuck you with it." She took my hands and waited for consent. "I'm not impotent, though, really," I stammered. "Of course you are," she said with a laugh. "That's why you were at the meeting. Don't shine me on." I sighed. "I think that would hurt," I said, hoping to reason with her. "Tremendously," she agreed, "and just wait 'till I get going." I threw my hands up. "Oh, as long as we're clear," I said in resignation. The lube glistened on her impressive teal shaft like a winking eye. She reached behind her head, and folded her long hair into a crude knot. Ten minutes later I had stripped and gotten on all fours upon the plush rug, and Amy had her left hand on my butt to steady me, while with her right she fed the phallus into my waiting asshole. The belt-like fastener creaked when she tightened it, and then I felt both her palms on my cheeks as her hips acquired a gentle swaying motion. Instinctively, I lowered my head to the floor. For about four minutes she had me like that with girlish delight, her pumping almost imperceptibly growing more adamant as she plowed. There was no mistaking the clawing of her nails on my backside however, which was urgent and angry the entire time. Eventually her exhalation loudened and the slamming took on a vaguely robotic efficiency. I was bumped roughly by her endeavors. Her hands moved to my hips, and clamped there. Then as suddenly, she stopped thumping and reached down for my ankles, which she pulled up like the brakes on a sled, causing my ass to drop with her dick still inserted into it. My legs straightened out at either side of her calves on the carpet. Forced that way into the prone position, I sensed her fists landing beside my midsection, and her head hovering two feet or so above my back. She harshly drove her hips down, completely burying her rod in me with each mighty slap of her beautiful thighs against my own. Her casual attitude implied she was watching the piston with curious fascination. Nevertheless, she sent shock waves through me. Something set her off, and she had to amp it up. She slid her left arm under mine, bringing her hot mouth to the nape of my neck, and I felt her fingers curl over my deltoid. Poised to really hammer me, she snapped her pretty hips at my rump to sharply inject the cock repeatedly. My body shook helplessly as her mouth-breathing got even more ragged, and then forward lunging joined her technique, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Her abdominal crunches delivered brutal shocks. "Damn, I love fucking impotent men," she snarled, half out of her mind with excitement. "Actually, I'm not..." Her left hand returned to the floor and the right landed on my spine to support her lovely torso, as her head was raised above me. The volley that followed was deft and rapid. A strand of drool zigzagged along my ribs. "Oh, Amy!" I cried in spite of myself, "you're incredible!" "Yeah!" she cheered, and pulled on my left hip as she returned to a kneeling position, so we were again in doggy. Her hands bit into my waist and she fucked as quickly and viciously as her hard body would let her, and I began to scream. "Take it, you bastard!" My feet covered her ankles as she continued accelerating, and the rate finally changed to a slow, steady thudding that culminated in one prolonged press of her crotch to my posterior. Digging her toes involuntarily into the shag, she let out a long sigh, and shivered. "Marry me," I begged. All of a sudden, the lights in the large room became dim. The TV flickered and the image of a golden lotus whistled from it. Music and news were warped in screeches from the stereo. An explosion removed the bar blender from existence. "What the hell's happening?" We separated and I grabbed my clothes, preparing to evacuate. Amy retreated to the bedroom. "It must be an electrical surge!" she cried, and I heard the locking of a panic room door. "Great," I said, finding myself alone as the sprinklers came on. On my left I noticed the wall-mounted bookshelves swinging free of their mooring, exposing to view a secret passageway. I raised my eyebrows and made for it. In the narrow hallway beyond the facade, things were marginally quieter, but I didn't feel safe. I followed the path to its end, at a round white room with a high-tech casket in its center that resembled an iron lung. All around had been placed roses, long since withered. Inside was a female figure, draped in a black shroud. "Margaret," I said, reading the plate on the head of the box. A klaxon sounded, and I caught sight of the emergency stairwell entrance at the far side of the chamber. I took that route out of the building. Looking up at the skyscraper, I saw a swirl of black clouds crowning the upper floors as lightning battered the windows. Glass rained like confetti on the hysterical crowds that streamed around arriving emergency vehicles. Each flash in the sky sent down the vision of an auric blossom as it illuminated the raging vortex of fog. "My God," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I just had a girl's dick up my ass."