Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ASTERIOS
As I journey home in the quiet darkness, I play the night’s events over in my head. I linger on the last image I saw of the moon witch before she cursed me.
Her, on a bed, naked, her pale thighs spread wide, the fingers of one hand rubbing the pink folds that were covered with pearlescent pubic hair. The other hand was playing with her full breasts, tugging and teasing the nipples until a thin stream of milk spilled over.
How the students had called her a monster irks me. While not a minotaur, she’s an exotic fantasy brought to life. Her skin glowed like moonlight, the only hair was on her head and in between her legs, which was white like snow.
I try to imagine that smooth skin, of what it would feel like under the palm of my hand.
Before I even realize it, I’m home. Just standing on my porch, my hand stroking my hard dick like a perv, with me lost in my erotic memories. But even those cannot propel me to ejaculate. My cock remains rigid.
At my doorknob, I let out a huge groan as I remember that I’m keyless. With technology being as advanced as it is, door locks should simply open with facial recognition like our phones. Though, with all this dry semen coating my face, I probably would have been locked out still.
Feeling defeated, I make my way around the house, deciding to break in through the back, knowing I likely look like a burglar. Or at the very least, a perverted creep with a crusty toga and a rock-hard cock.
Getting the cops called on me for breaking into my own house would be the cherry on top of this shit-sundae of a night. Plus, I’ve had this erection for over four hours now. Wasn’t there a pharmaceutical commercial about going to the hospital if that ever happened?
Giving the door a good shove with my shoulder, the barrier succumbs to my strength quite easily. The lock busts and the door swings right open, smacking the wall behind it. I quickly duck inside and shut the door behind me, thankful that the deadbolt and chain are still functional, which I secure.
I make my way to the laundry room. After peeling my toga off, I grab a clean towel (that will now and forever be the cum towel) and begin to wipe myself down.
The small room is starting to look like a snow globe with all the cum flakes coming off my skin and floating in the air, but that’s a tomorrow problem.
I would sweep them up after a good night’s rest.
Naked as the day I was born, I navigate my kitchen with ease. Yet, I somehow also manage to accidently smack my rock-hard cock on the counter’s edge when I turn too fast.
I collapse to my knees and take deep breaths, blinking away tears and rubbing away the agony of my throbbing dick. Fuck my life.
Only the Lord knows how much time it took for me to regain the strength to pull myself up from the kitchen floor.
Had I passed out?
Possibly.
And the erection is still there, longer and harder than I ever thought possible.
I am by no means a small minotaur when it came to genitalia, but the sheer length and size of my engorged shaft is alarming.
My aching balls are tight and ready to explode.
Once I get upstairs, I’ll have to try to relieve myself of this monster.
Being more careful this time, I take a glass from the cupboard and reach for the sink. However, my hand pauses over the faucet handle. I glare at it warily, no longer trusting water.
Opening the fridge, I decide to fill my glass with wine instead.
After I take out the bottle, I lift the wine and inspect it. It looks safe. I pop the cork and inhale the scent of fermented grapes. Fuck the glass. I let out a sigh of relief before taking a giant swig.
Instant regret.
Like some anti-messiah of old, the witch has turned my wine into cum, and I’m now blowing the vile liquid all over my kitchen counter. I hurl the bottle against the wall, where the glass shatters and the wine splatters like wine should.
Fucking witch. I really am cursed.
Wiping the spittle from my mouth and feeling utterly dejected, I hang my head and make my way upstairs. I will have to somehow make amends with the witch if I wish to eat, drink or bathe ever again.
In front of my bathroom door, I knock awkwardly. “Are you in there, semen sorceress?”
Not hearing a reply, I cautiously enter and turn to the mirror. I keep my tone slow and even as I summon the witch.
“Milkmaid. Milkmaid. Milkmaid.”
Though she didn’t appear in the mirror, the whole room takes on a different glow, like when the moon clears the clouds on a stormy night.
I feel her. I smell her. Cum, yes, but the heady scent of night-blooming jasmine overlays the subtle scent of semen.
I feel her wrap around me, like vanilla cream and hot sex.
It takes everything in me to not fall to my knees and cry for want.
“Witch-err... Umm. Mrs. Milkmaid... Ma’am. First, I want to apologize. I should have never maligned you. I’m sorry for that.”
My hand lifts to the back of my head, scratching at it in humiliation as cum flakes sprinkle my broad shoulders. In comparison to her energy, I feel dirty and gross, a mixture of sweat, cum, and mud.
I look over to my shower before addressing the mirror. Fuck it.
I get down on my knees. “Please. I’m begging you. Please let me take a damn shower.”
“Good boy.” I swear I hear her disembodied whisper in my ear, soft and lyrical. “I like when my bulls beg.” I close my eyes as a phantom hand grasps my cock and cups my balls.
I want to come so much, I’m drooling.
She quietly tsks in my ear. I feel her release her hold, and the loss is enough to grieve over. “Bathe, my pet. You’ll feel better.”
Compelled to follow her instructions, I crawl to the shower. Exhaling heavily, I climb to my feet, turn the knob all the way to hot, and wait for cum to spew out. Instead, steam starts to rise, I quirk a brow.
“Did you…” I whisper, almost afraid to jinx the moment. “Is my punishment over?”
Reaching into the stream with my hand, I’m pleasantly surprised to find actual fucking water.
Elation fills me and I step into the flow, letting it cascade over my body.
It’s soothing balm to my weary soul. I let out a deep groan and lean against the smooth shower titles, resting my forehead and the tips of my horns against it.
Opening my eyes, I glare down at the rock-hard inconvenience and decide to attempt to beat off for the third time tonight— using soap as lubrication.
I wrap my fingers around my girthy length and can’t help but to instantly surge my hips at the sensation. It feels incredible. Applying pressure, I squeeze and pump my fist faster.
Needing more, I grip the rest of my length with my other fist, wielding myself like a sword as I thrust into my hands while stabilizing myself against the wall with my horns.
The pressure becomes almost unbearable, and just when I think I’m about to come... Nothing. The pleasure fizzles out like a busted firework, and I’m left wanting more. Needing more.
The pain settles back in and I groan. “Goddammit!” I punch the slick wall, and tiles crack beneath the force of my frustration. “Why can’t I fucking come!?”
Throwing in the proverbial towel and embracing my new blue-balled fate, I shake my head and step out of the shower. My cock is harder than it’s ever been. Testing that theory, I drape a bath sheet over it and snort when my cock doesn’t even bow from the weight.
After drying off, I slip on some pajamas but have no choice but to keep the waistband just under my shaft, because trying to tuck it into my pants brought a kind of pain I never want to experience again.
Climbing into bed, I let out a sigh, feeling the edges of sleep pulling at me the second my head hits the pillow. I’m so exhausted that even the throbbing ache in my groin could not keep me awake. Yes, I was pitching a rather uncomfortable tent with my heavy blanket, but my fatigue was heavier.
Grumbling, I uncover the engorged head anyway, leaving only my erection exposed. Maybe the chill in my room will ease the swelling.
Seconds later, the darkness overtakes me, and I fall into its weightless abyss.
I dream of moonlight and milk and jasmine.