My Heart Goes Out To You

I’ve decided to finally post up Chapter VI. This is beginning to become aggravating, my authorly-like soulless corpse typing away a keyboard drifting into the wanton eyes of nothingness. The description was effortless, yet another sample of my ‘Shakespearean’ type writing style, like somebody said… I’m beginning to feel sadistically inclined and will portray more of it in the story, I’m sure. You’ll just have to see where it goes…


Chapter VI: Caloric

He is standing in the corner
Enlightenment is something he craves
Alas he shall lust before himself
Touch me, darling…


Ardor consumed him, in the mosques of a long drag. Inhaling it, was all he could do to numb his jaded senses. Maxwell could only hope for release, for he was but nothing to dangle from its harnessed thread.
Solidly, his tongue ran on the outline of his lips. Blithe was he, as he recalled the events of the previous night ago. Lethargic was the swift understatement as he latched himself onto his satin bed sheets. Maxwell exhaled the smoke forlorn as he bathed in reminisce…


Fog paled in comparison to the two males in the car. To becloud all the windows and what not else in the car, from inward breaths. Confinement of their moans and groans was yet another impossibility. They could not get enough.
Searching coolly in the glistening darkness, were the demanding hands of Maxwell Elise—all too happy to for his exploration of his lover. Bashful, was his companion Tory, as he accepted and returned his lusted needs. To think, in a few seconds, he would be reaching for the glove compartment while the thought left Tory cringing.
“M-Maxwell,” he’d sigh in between breaths: it was enough to drive any man insane.
Suddenly, their actions fell to an abrupt halt as Tory looked away. Maxwell could not comprehend—what was wrong with him?
“Tory? What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”
His inquiries were leaving him jittery and not coolly agitated… He wasn’t ready for this! “I-I can’t… I feel sick…” was his stammered reply.
How could one detest such an incredulous excuse, especially coming from that of youth? Maxwell tried desperately not to as he was arising the brink of sin that very moment to the defiling of the boy.
“Sick?” was all he ground out. No way could he be as sick as he, as he was terribly frustrated only boosted by the edges of disappointment. This was by far, a pathetic excuse for his unwanted pleasure. When would this foolish child realize what was missing out on? What was awaiting him? And when would he play along in Maxwell’s joust?
“I think it’s, like, a fever or something… I’m afraid that I… I’m just afraid to say the least.”
Tory’s cool explanation and definitions had gone on for at least a few minutes before Maxwell had tuned him out. His plots and deceptive mind could not find theirs ways to seduce him at this very instant without force and that would ruin, if not cripple his chances at another round with him again.
Exhale, was what he did, dragged out. He was so close and yet so far away to his disposal of this boy’s clothing and his lubricant. How could he lose? He would just have to play it out until the boy decided the best to crawl into his bed… but who knew how long that would take? Oh, what a challenge it would be for the wait of Tory’s first move!
“Don’t bother to explain, darling,” he reassured wearing a façade of lies. “I understand you aren’t completely ready with this… crossover. I’ll wait as long as you want me to. Although I’ll warn you I’m quite impatient. Please, Tory, spare me the pitiful excuses.”
“You’ll wait? What do you mean by crossover? And I’m not making excuses.”
“You’ll understand when you start to feel it, my love, and don’t worry about lying to me, just tell me you don’t want to.”
“Maxwell, it’s honestly not about you, or a ‘crossover.’” Tory clarified. “It’s just that, us schoolboys have a kerfu and I’m apparently late.”
He smiled. “Why would anything be wrong with you? Or…us?”
Maxwell reluctantly returned the cheery face. Of course there was nothing wrong with him, and he would tell him so if that were the implication—still, it was sweet of him to make such a cuter excuse. Referring to himself as a schoolboy, was he? Another thing illuminating him as purely sexy in complexion.
“I see,” he gestured. “We’ll be off then.”
Instantly, he charged on the ignition, letting the engine roar on its way. Surprisingly, it did nothing to faze Tory, for the boy was too preoccupied in his own thoughts as he eyed out the window.
An introvert? Maxwell thought. I really am in for a treat. Only, his lecherous thoughts continued as he spotted Tory worried frown out by the window. What could be on his mind so…troubling to distract him from their kisses—which had to blissful for the part of Maxwell.
Inquisitions only began to arise amore in his mind as he started to see him. Tory was quiet the entire ride—the boy had said no words. Maxwell had noticed him as an introvert, not plainly dull. There was something wrong… and as his new ‘boyfriend’ he would have to find out what it was, as it had to be interfering with his chances to fuck the boy. And fuck him he would. He would fuck the boy clean.
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His thoughts led him back to lining the possible reasons to his new lover’s sadness. Apparently, he would have to make every minute of the boy’s incessant lifestyle perfect: it would be fabulous for two major reasons.
For one, he could succeed much better in getting the boy into his pants and exploring every curve of paradise. And for two, it could only heighten the blow when Tory would fall. After all, why would he continue to acknowledge the boy’s connections in happiness when he was no longer needed to fulfill his fantasies?
Thoughts of ever so sweet vindictiveness momentarily replaced themselves by heated premonitions of things to come amongst him and the flustered schoolboy.
Naked visions indulged themselves into the surfaces of his mind and body, sending his shaft into Tory’s uplifted oblivion. Ravishing him in the desolate bookstore he worked at. Enthralling him in the small confinement of the backseats of his Porsche. His legs burned at the thought of him reveling in the feel of his bed sheets.
‘Twas no shock of the presence of his zealous arousal. In the heat amidst his hot fantasies, there was no time to start the cold shower to cure—he would have to resort to his berated surroundings.
Coolly, he retrieved whatever immorality he had and began to trail his hand upon the roves of his stomach and lower until… until…. Primly, his mind had explored the depths of lust in his arising fantasy.
Where was Tory now? Working at his book store job? Certainly by the looks of it, as the boy had no sense of particular urbanity in his clothing. Already, he could see him clothed in his dull uniform… doing naughty things, of course. Maxwell’s finger trailed the tip of his cock at the picture of him recommending a not so aged book in the arts of sexuality… even in being a class worker to demonstrate the positioning…
‘Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to unbutton the flimsy fabricated shirt tossing the white cloth to the side in haste to do his other clothes. The tanned striped black tie was next as he casually threw it to the floor. It was when his pants followed, he shed them in a hurry.
Maxwell, perched on one of the many reading tables smiled as both of their tight boxers followed. Innocently, the boy began to caress his stomach, trailing down further…until… until…’
A loud moan escaped Maxwell’s lips as he began to imagine more of the boy’s actions. Erratic tasks and sins had bathed the two in the cramped and steamed bookshop.
Coolly, Maxwell realized it was not indeed his hand stroking himself, but that of Tory’s, fondling his enlarged dick and smirking all the while. Never had he thought the boy could be so devilish as to make him scream so.
Ironic, was that of which that depleted his mind, all of his former purposes leaving him as he began to pump faster. Artworks of erotic notions issued themselves heatedly around him, painting the colors of his every being. Every portrait began to liven as the gentle schoolboy transformed into a livid lusting junior craving release, as did Maxwell.
All but once, engulfing hands caressed a large erection ever so slowly, Maxwell felt on the brink of his climax. Refusal denied him any freedom despite the cum already raining in his hands. Pictures of Tory playing with his cock amongst the other needy parts on his body began to cast within his mind.
Yelped, he did, was that at the flames of Tory’s heat. Plastered hair tattered along the creases of Tory’s head and cheeks, his timid voice screaming that of ‘MAXWELL!’ sent him into an ever so jolted oblivion. He cried out, sighing contently as the cool boy’s aroused façade gently vanished from his bed, off to attend whatever he had previously been attending.
His balls began to sink back down, numbly taking in reality, their semen drained as Tory’s essence. Inwardly, he cursed himself. Endless insults and claims arose in his head, declaring him spineless.
He was Maxwell Elise, a rich and wealthy artistically gifted businessman—let alone, physically gifted in attraction. His particular fame laid crisply in the breaking of hearts, and brutality to love. Now, he was seeking a boy to live up to it, as Tory was.
The boy had no idea who he was, he wasn’t gay as of notice, and judging by his idle behavior, obviously unaware of his motives. He should’ve been bedded last night if not, in the local bookshop’s washroom. How had he gotten off so lucky? How…?
And this, high school fucktard teenager, had reduced him. Lowered him to the point of masturbation at one night! How could he possess such power. Maxwell scoffed into the fluff of his pillows.
It was final, he would fuck him as of yet. Today or tomorrow. The only two options were left as they stood, and the likeness—permission of Tory didn’t matter or not. Rape would be a condition if he failed to meet his standards…
He would fuck Tory!
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That\'s the end of this chapter, zone on to 7 and review.