This is an epic novel of one man who's cum could change the world
James stood up, infuriated, pointing at the end of the table to the staid group of suits that sat nervously.
“Fine!,” he bellowed. “Find me a dozen 18-year old Russian girls who speak fluent English, aren’t in the industry, and are willing to let a perfect stranger fuck them in the ass every day for the next five years!”
“Mr. Whitmore,” one of them began, holding up a hand. “That would be highly...”
“Just do it! If you mother fuckers want my cum,” he gestured at his waist, the metal band and the ring around the base of his balls, his cock half-hard, dripping in saliva, pre-cum and hours of fucking and sucking, “then you need to do what I want.”
He was, after all in a position of power. Literal and figurative power. One milliliter of James’ cum was enough to power the entire city of New York for five years. The stored energy in his spunk was astronomical, and this had made him the most important man in America. And, with the resources at NASA being funneled towards the White Energy Project, his loads had increased to about twenty milliliters for every orgasm, some greater, some slightly less. I cum, thought James, and the Big Apple has enough power for the next fucking century. They better find me some fucking Russian virgins.
“Look,” he said, calming down, looking across at the board. “I am one man.”
“This unit is built around the premise that the more I cum, the more energy-sufficient America becomes, and I realize that’s a good thing. No nuclear energy, no dependence on foreign gas or oil, a greener lifestyle. If you could put my cum in every gas tank in America, we’d be golden. I understand the importance.”
“I’ve sacrificed my life to it.”
“All I want is little bit of my humanity back.”
The room was quiet. The four representatives at the end of the table, all men in expensive tailored suits, agents of the government, and James’ own representatives, all women, smartly dressed, yet sexy, in their own versions of work clothes- Sapna, for one, was clad in a skin-tight black latex suit, her boobs exposed, and an opening for her crotch and asshole, and five inch hooker boots.
“I can give you one hundred, even two hundred milliliters a day, if you just trust me and my reps.” With this, he gestured at Sapna and Joanne, Stacy and Brady, his other reps.
One of the government reps at the end of the table, Agent Zawiski, removed his dark, aviator glasses and looked directly at James.
“Mr. Whitmore. This is a matter or national security. We simply can’t take the risk that production will be dropped because of a lack of focus.”
James glared at the agent, his hands on his waist. His cock was huge, imposing, hanging between his legs.
“You know what we are capable of doing. That is all I’m going to say on the matter. I think it would be in the best interest of the White Energy Project if we continued on with operations as usual, and discuss this in another manner. Move it up through the chains. Unless, of course, you refuse...”
And then they would take him to a central room, strap him to a hospital bed and milk him like a fucking cow twenty-four hours a day.
James sighed and collapsed into the chair.
Sapna flipped back her long, silky black hair, took James’ hard-on in her hand, opened her mouth and took him inside, running her tongue around the bottom of his quivering shaft. Joanne stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders, her long, dirty blonde hair draped sensually down her back. She was naked except for a pair of tiny jean shorts, and a series of bangles loosely gathered around her wrists. In front of him, on the floor, Stacy’s face was buried between Brady’s long legs, which she held apart with her hands, to let the brunette get greater access to her pussy. How he wished he could just hold Sapna’s head to his crotch, shove his cock balls deep into her mouth, and explode down the back of her throat.
But he couldn’t do this.
And it saddened him.
Sapna came up for breath, and looked him in the eyes. It was as if she could read his mind, and she went back down on him. This time she took his entire shaft. Her nose was flat up against his waist, and her face went from a deep rich tan to an oxygen-deprived angry red. She gagged audibly. He took her head in his hands and held her there. Joanne encouraged her, whispering that’s right, that’s right, take it, take it all, girlfriend.
It was so unfair.
“God, I just want to cum down your throat!”
Joanne sighed, and gestured across the room at Brady, who was watching them as her pussy was getting licked by Stacy. Brady lifted the brunette’s face from between her legs.
“Stacy,” Joanne simply said.
Stacy got up, and leaned over to the wall by the door. She pressed her palm against the recognition panel and with a soft hum, the door retracted into the wall.
Two nurses stood at the ready, one of them holding a small pink kit in her hands. They were blonde constructs, with thick, sexual bodies and the largest, best fake tits tax money could buy. Their uniforms were tiny, barely fitting over their tits and ass, and they managed their high heels skillfully. They looked virtually identical.
Quickly, they approached James. Sapna removed his cock from her mouth, and breathed deep, the color returning to her cute face. She stepped away, as did Joanne.
One of the nurses dropped to her knees.
The other nurse, the one with the kit, removed a small pad, and ordered James to stand. He stood up in front of the kneeling nurse.
“Jerk off,” she ordered.
His cock, sloppy with Sapna’s spit, in his hand, James dutifully stroked his staff.
“On five,” the nurse said, and began counting down.
On command, a thick, gloppy rope of cum exploded from his cock onto the blonde nurses’ face. Her blue eyes were open, looking at James’ engorged tool, but her red lips were closed. The cum ran down from her forehead, over her nose, and down to her lips, dripping off the bottom of her chin. A second and third eruption made sure that her face was absolutely drenched in his man juice, and he shook whatever remnants he could onto the nurse’s face.
Immediately, with an elegant fury and precision, the other nurse opened her kit, and with a series of small, specifically engineered instruments, removed every single drop of cum from the other nurse’s face and hair, and James’ spent dick. The cum was captured in a small vial, similar to what banks would use in a drive-thru teller. She typed something into a pad, walked to the far wall, pressed her palm against the recognition console, and a dumb-waiter opened up. She inserted the vial, and walked back.
Both nurses stood up.
“Thank you, Mr. Whitmore. Hopefully, we’ll see you later.”
He nodded in acknowledgement, and looked down at his dick.
He began stroking himself again, and sighed. No rest for the weary, he thought. It was barely noon and he had already cum four times since he woke up. All for America, he thought. All for fucking America.
He stood there with his dick in his hand. His four female reps stood about two yards away, staring, unsure of what he was feeling. He admired them and, for a moment, felt immensely satisfied with what he had acheived. They were more than reps to him: they were goddesses. He had worshipped these four long before he realized the power that was stored in his cum, moaning their names as he fantasized about fucking them, staring at their pictures on Facebook. It cost him his marriage. And yet, here they were.
The tiny, lithe athletic Stacy, with her olive brown skin and deep, silky straight black hair. Her stomach was as flat as a washboard and her tits, while not huge, were perfect for her frame. A small tuft of black hair was poised enticingly above her clit. Her face glistened with Brady’s pussy juice, and her three-inch pumps made her thigh and calf muscles pop out.
The majestic, elegant Brady- almost six feet tall with beautiful, chiseled facial features that could start wars, hoop earrings- always the hoop earrings- that brought out these features from within her long and thick strawberry blonde hair. She, too, was thin, but not the thinness of an athlete. She was model thin, like a princess. Her pussy was completely shaved, and her tits were perfect for her frame. She stood naked, except for the same brand of pumps that her girlfriend Stacy was wearing.
The luscious, sensuous Joanne, her body thick and soft in all of the right places, a huge, bulbous, bouncy ass that begged to be fondled. Her hair was long and dirty blonde, held loosely above her head in a bun. She had on cut-off jean shorts that were essentially smaller than bikini bottoms, her ass hanging out, and her pussy lips brazenly exposed. She had on a pair of cowboy boots and a sliver cross that nestled between her firm, but large, tits. She stared intensely at James’, admiring his cock.
And then there was Sapna. Perfection. Where as his other three goddesses had beauty that lied comfortably within their own existence; possessing flaws that, perhaps, made them even more desirable than they would have been otherwise, everything about Sapna was absolute perfection. From the shape of the nails on her toes; up through her calves and thighs; the gentle ‘V’ of her crotch; the stunning beauty of her pussy; the utter perfection of her young, firm, bulbous ass; the curve of her back and the flatness of her stomach; the size and shape of her succulent breasts; the fall of her thick black hair around her shoulders and between the blades of her back; her neck and the skin behind her ears. And a face that simply exuded innocence, a hopeless desire to covet her, the dark sensuality of her eyes. She was, James thought, his cock now, once again, firm, angry, engorged, lustful, rock-like within the grip of his hand, the Perfect Woman.
At moments like this- just after a donation, and in the early throes of another round- the girls knew that James was watching them, and dreaming. Joanne turned to Brady, and took her face in her hand and kissed her deeply, their bodies writhing, putting on a show for the most important man in the country. Sapna walked over to Stacy and did the same, two manes of thick, black hair cascading as one, Sapna’s hands gripping Stacy’s tiny ass firmly, almost violently.
His cock rose to full attention, framed in the metal support work, and James thought of that day in the board room a year ago.
The four government reps were there, aviator glasses on, earpieces tucked in, leaning confidently in over-sized leather office chairs. He stood, much as he did this morning, at the head of the table, his body sweaty from the morning donations, his spent cock, heavy and imposing in the metal brace that framed the base of his balls and shaft. The reps did not acknowledge his nakedness.
“Good morning, Mr. Whitmore,” one of them said, gesturing at the seat in front of him. James nodded and took the seat.
“We’ve asked you to come here today, in your best interest, to make the White Energy Project more efficient for all of us.”
James looked at them dubiously.
“I believe you know who this is.”
The rep flicked a switch and the lights in the room dimmed. A photo on the screen came into focus. It was Joanne, on a San Francisco street with some girlfriends, in a grey wrap-around dress and red high heels. Her hair was down and she had on a pair of over-sized sunglasses. He knew it well. He had masturbated to that very photo on Facebook probably over three hundred times.
He was stunned.
“And this one, as well.”
The next picture was a smiling Stacy, in a cute flower-printed dress, a big smile on her pretty face. Her legs were crossed and she held her head gently in her hand. Again, he had blown hundreds of loads moaning her name as he jerked off to this very photo.
It was Brady, in a grey t-shirt that emphasized her tits amazingly well. Her hair was down and her smile was demure and inviting. He used to think she looked very much like Rachel Roxx in this photo, and he would have this up with photos of the porn star, cum dripping from her face, and jerk off. Hundreds and hundreds of loads in her honor.
The reps stopped there and the lights came back up.
“We know everything, Mr. Whitmore. We know there are more- Johannah Chase, Sapna Kanabar- but I think you get the picture. We know about the website, the blog.”
He shuddered in absolute embarassment. He had called it Brady’s Pussy, a log of all his fantasies, photos of these goddesses taken from Facebook, coupled with his favorite porns, elaborate fantasies linking all of them. It was a journal of his inner-most mind, a site of worship for the women he considered goddesses.
He was shaking. It wasn’t so much that they had confronted him with this; it was the fact that they knew so much. That they could access his Internet use so easily and completely and form a picture. After all, he was in a board room with four grown men, naked except for his cock belt, his dick slimy with pussy juice and saliva.
“James, I know you are reticent to trust us.” It was another rep this time. He removed his glasses. “But you are valuable to us, to your country. You are priority number one for this administration, and anything we can do to ensure the success of this project, we will do.”
“Even if it means recruiting these women.”
James was shocked. Bewildered. Even if it means recruiting these women.
“Recruiting?” he asked, “What are you talking about.”
“Recruited, I should have said. The NSA took some privleges and the brains over at NASA did some investigation. Let’s just say that atomic spunk you put out there never ceases to amaze.”
“I don’t understand.”
“James. Obviously, your lust for these women is unparalleled. And we want you to be happy. So instead of watching porns all day and having your dick sucked by strangers, why not bring in these four?”
James laughed nervously.
“This is fucking ridiculous. These girls have no idea how I feel about them. There is no way you could convince them to do this. There’s no way.”
“Of course there isn’t.” They all nodded their heads. “But then we thought, what if these women could be convinced to lust after you the same way you lust after them?”
James listened intently. Without even touching it, his cock began to get large.
“The source of your insatiable appetite for sex, James, is that fucking magical juice you’ve been producing. It’s not in your mind; it’s in your cock. So what if we could take that appetite and somehow induce the girls to feel the same way about you?”
“What if, in other words, that magical juice became part of them?”
“They’ve been vaccinated, James. They got you in them. Those goddamn geniuses at NASA developed some sort of magic potion, based on the molecular structure of your cum, made from, in fact, your cum, that has given these four girls- Joanne, Stacy, Sapna and Brady- an insatiable appetite for sex.”
“And that appetite can only be satisfied by you.”
One of the reps hit a button underneath the table and a panel from the back wall hissed and retracted, opening up to the room next door. The four girls were standing there, naked except for their red high heels.
And James, overwhelmed and shocked, promptly fainted.
He would take them to the construct room. The four girls continued making out, their tongues searching each others throats, fingerings lingering around the folds of wet pussies. Whitmore walked to the door and placed his palm on the recognition screen. He kneeled forward, and mumbled “Construct” into a speaker. The door opened with a hiss.
For armed guards, all female, clad in form-fitting thick canvas black uniforms and jack boots, their hair tied up in tight, angry balls on their head, parted to let the group through. The girls stopped kissing and followed James out into the hallway. The guards surrounded them, their machine guns at the ready.
The Construct Room was the main donation room, designed by James himself and his female reps, along with the NASA engineers and other government agents, to make the donations as easy as possible. It was large and cavernous, like a night club. Concrete walls, about five feet high, encircled the room, and attached to these walls by hooks and on shelves, were hundreds, if not thousands, of vibrators, dildoes, butt plugs and other sex toys. From the top of the wall up to the ceiling, which was about thirty feet, the walls doubled as projection screens. These, at any time, could be playing a vast collection of hardcore porn, or be used to project what was happening in the room at the time. The room itself was littered with divans, small beds, couches and chairs; anything that could be fucked on.
And then, of course, were the constructs themeselves.
The constructs were massive male specimens, about six-foot four, muscular and hairless. In fact, they were virtually featureless- bald heads, no eyebrows, chiseled Romanesque facial features. The only difference between the constructs was the engineering of their cocks. While all of them had huge cocks- the smallest construct was at least ten inches- the shape and bend differed for each construct. It added variety for the girls to enjoy and made it more realistic.
They entered the room. There were twelve constructs, huddled into groups of three. The girls obediently went to each group of constructs and, without a word, got down on their hands and knees. A construct walked up to the back of each girl, their huge cocks engorged, thick and pulsating, pressed the cock against their pussy and entered. The lights in the big room dimmed. On each wall there was a projection, a close-up high definition image of each girl and the cock inside them, so James could see each image, each drop of pussy juice on the engorged cocks, each small, soft pubic hair that escaped the razor or wax, perhaps a small, almost imperceptible pimple here and there. He stroked his cock in satisfaction, as he watched Sapna, Brady, Joanne and Stacy take the huge cocks into their pussies, all of them moaning loudly, their echoes bouncing off the cavernous walls. They didn’t moan very long, however, as four other constructs approached them from the other side, and fed them their cocks like a bird feeding its young. Two holes were filled.
Only one remained.
In an amazing feat of either acrobatics or aerobics, the constructs whose cocks were buried in the goddesses pussy’s, flipped the girls over so they were on top of them, riding them cowgirl style. Up and down the four girls rode each shaft. The second construct stepped forward, and the mouths opened, taking them in. This left the last and final construct, the moment of double penetration.
James watched Stacy with intense concentration. She was the smallest of the four, barely over one hundred pounds and her ass was small, and horribly cute. The construct that stood over her, spitting on his cock and stroking it, getting ready to enter her, had a cock that was at least fourteen inches and as big as a forearm. James looked up at the screen. It was a close up of her pussy being pounded. The construct had spread her ass cheeks so her little Mediterranean starfish appeared pink and puckered. It seemed impossible, as if he would rip the poor girl in two.
He watched as the construct pressed the head of his cock against the resistant asshole. He could see the lines emanating from the muscle begin to contract as he continued to push. In a second, her asshole gave way and the construct pushed an inch, two inches, three inches and then half his slab of meat into her butthole, which was impossibly stretched. The other construct continued banging her pussy and James could only imagine what it felt like. Stacy’s eyes were shut tight, and her face was held in a tight, intense grimace. The construct in her ass was gentle, not daring to shove all fourteen inches into her, but the close-up on the thirty foot screen showed her asshole being stretched to its absolute limit.
The other girls were getting double-penetrated as well. Joanne’s ass was built for cock and she was taking the entire girth like a champ, moaning loudly and confidently. Sapna took hers, skillfully grinding her hips to get the full sensation of her pussy and asshole being filled with cock. Brady, who was always reluctant to take it up the ass, nonetheless did it dutifully, looking at James as she was pounded, as if to let him know I am doing this for you.
His eyes back on Stacy, and the image of her asshole being pounded projected in HD on a thirty-foot screen, James felt himself getting close to exploding. The construct slowly eased his cock out of Stacy’s tiny asshole, and held her cheeks apart. Her ass gaped angrily as if was screaming to be filled back up, a engorged red hole about the diameter of a baseball. It was too much for James to take, and he screamed loudly for the nurses. He was about to make another donation.