No, not just any lady. One in particular. What is her name? I can see her face, but not her name. And why, in God’s name, is she blue?
“Ethan, can you hear me?” Again, her melodious voice drips over my body like water sprinkling off the tree leaves after a hard rain.
As much as I want to reach up and touch her, nothing moves. Nothing listens to me. Nothing obeys me. Cold drifts through my limbs like icy fingers trailing through my veins, forcing me to lie still.
I suppose I should have regrets. Everyone does during these final moments, but I can’t seem to think of too many. My biggest regret will always be not fighting harder to stay with my family on the farm. Every other mistake stems from that.
Glancing up into my blue angel’s face, I feel the soft quivering of tissue at my lips, as if my face is allowing me to smile up at her, one last time. Concern laces her expression as she leans over me, her eyes searching my body. It’s too late now. I’m sure of it.
Even as the heat of her body washes over me, darkness encroaches. It’s not sudden. Not at all like the movies, where you’re here one second and gone the next. It’s more languid than that, comforting almost.
First, all sensation leaches from my extremities. Inch by inch, nothingness crawls over my body until it’s just my head. Then, nothing. Everything goes dark, plunging me into a nothingness where there is no longer pain, fear, regret, or chaos.
For the first time since I left my family, I finally feel at peace.
CHAPTER NINE
ETHAN
Shafts of light burn through my eyelids, stirring me from a fitful sleep. Scrunching my eyes shut even tighter, I try to go back to that dreamworld to finish out the saga playing through my mind. I’ve had weird dreams before, but nothing like this.
Even now, I can feel the blue goddess’s lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me dry as she clenches her fingers around my balls. Sex dreams aren’t new for me, not since around puberty. But a blue alien as the main character? That’s a first.
Either way, one of the first things I need to do after I get myself off is talk to Jeffrey. Out of all the things in my dream, the two that stand out the most are Special K and Lorazepam. First off, maybe I should actually search for Lorazepam on the internet. It could be it’s just a made up word.
Special K, unfortunately, is something I know all too well. It’s not like I partake, but in the glamorous world I live in, the term gets tossed around every now and then at parties. Still though. Lorazepam... Something to help me sleep. That much I remember from the dream.
But I don’t have trouble sleeping. Usually after a shoot and a night of partying and fucking, I’m passed out on my bed. No help needed. It has to be my subconscious just fucking with me.
The fact that I’m worrying about some potentially made-up drug more than blue aliens auctioning me off as a bull is telling. My mind is just trying to grab onto all these weird things and make them make some sort of odd sense. Better add to my list. Get myself off, go search Lorazepam, talk to Jeffery if needed, then go get an appointment with the first shrink with availability.
I know I’ve been trying to stuff down my emotions ever since I left my parent’s farm, but it’s starting to affect me in ways that I can’t seem to understand or even control. Auctioning me off as a bull. There has to be some deeper meaning there, something a head doctor will be able to help me understand.
An irritated sigh flits through my lips as I lie there, trying to recapture the eroticism of the dream I was having, but to no avail. Perhaps I’ll be able to get started on the other parts of the list sooner then.
As I go to open my eyes, the brightness blinds me, making me shut them back almost instantly. Even when my curtains are open, it’s not that damned bright. I must be at someone else’s house. A face swims into view, but not a name.
Fuck.
Finally, I wrench my eyes open and blink into the light, sterile room. Nothing about this is familiar. Soft beeps assault my ears and cause my head to pound and throb. But as I bring my hand up to rub my temple, I stop short.
Nothing about this feels right. My body feels far weaker than it should. The last time I felt like this was when I was recovering from a sprained ankle when I was younger. Gritting my teeth, I force the heavy limb up to my face and rub away the pain.
Despite the discomfort, an odd pleasure continues to ebb and flow through me with every inhale and exhale. It washes over my skin and forces my abs and balls to contract. Soon, the memories of the dream come over me, bringing me back to that cusp of need and longing.
As I arch my hips up, I glance down, a smile curving my lips as I picture the blue goddess pleasuring me. Only... she’s not there. My blood runs ice cold as I watch the odd contraption squeeze and release my cock with robotic, rhythmic movements.
No one else is here. It’s just me and this damned machine. As consciousness trickles into me, waking me up fully, bits and pieces click into place. The blue fuckers. The auction. The goddess. None of this is a dream. Somehow, it’s all frightfully real.
I allow my head to plop back down onto the pillow as my body continues to prime itself for orgasm. I’m far too gone now to stop it. Even if I want to, the ache in my balls is relentless, edging out all other discomfort until that’s all I can concentrate on.
My fingers clench the sheets as my limbs shake with need. Closing my eyes, I try to conjure up anyone other than the Mistress Rancher, but I can’t do it. Even the chick I fucked before coming to this strange planet seems to drift out of my memories like smoke drifting off the asphalt after a soft rain.
Her lovely eyes bore into me as she opens her mouth, desperate to take my cum into her body. There’s a longing there, a desperation I haven’t really seen before in the others I’ve fucked. I want to come onto her again, to smear her with my fluids until she’s coated in them.
A feral groan rips from my lips as the machine tightens even more. It’s as if it can sense how close I am. The part around my balls changes, turning into a light rippling motion, as if it’s her fingers dancing along the tight, sensitive skin.
Unable to resist any longer, I allow the stupid machine to fully milk me, draining me of cum as I’m helpless against it. My hips undulate in the air as I watch the white, pearlescent fluid fill the tube and drain away to some other part on the side of the bed. As many times as I’ve come in my life, whether inside a woman or not, I know about how much cum I produce.
