THE DEADHEADS OF NO HOPE by Rio Mack
DISCLAIMER: Contains depictions of gay and bi sexuality.
Please help support NIFTY! https://donate.nifty.org/
RECORD STORE DATE (Conclusion)
Evening was settling on the young lovers' first official date. The large bank clock on Remy's bedroom wall showed it was almost 6. He asked Wren if they should start dinner.
"I'm famished, Remy! What should we have? I guess you can't make spanakopita again, can you? I could hit that shit every damn day, son."
Remy loved it when Wren talked hot boy.
"No phyllo left, I'm afraid, but what could we have?"
He sparked the half-filled pipe on his coffee table, and he and Wren traded puffs as he mentally reviewed what there was in the house he could make.
"How about an omelet?"
Wren's answer surprised Remy.
"I've never had one. I know what they are obviously, but Anne never made them, neither did Dexter. I love eggs, though -- scrambled, over easy, sunny side up."
"Cool. I predict you'll love omelets. I'll make it spanakopita-ish -- I can put some of Ava's French feta in it, and there's some spinach I need to use up."
They headed down to the first floor. Wren brought along one of the bottles of red wine she had in her tote bag. She opened it when they got to the kitchen, brought two Bonne Maman jelly-jar glasses down from the cupboard, and served them each a glass.
Remy poked around the fridge, which was practically empty. He got out a half-filled carton of eggs, Ava's feta, and the rest of the spinach, plus a shallot he could sautée with the spinach. There wasn't anything else in there he'd put in an omelet.
"Slim omelet pickings, but there's a couple blood oranges, some butter lettuce, and some nice romaine, so we could have a salad, too."
"Yes yes yes! I'll make it, Remy!"
"Cool cool, let's rock then."
Wren washed the lettuce and dried it and then carefully peeled the two blood oranges, mesmerizing Remy with the way her thin, delicate fingers deftly worked off every speck of rind and pith, until it was just ripe, naked, bulging-luscious fruit.
Remy told her the wine was excellent as usual. Wren explained its provenance.
"It's a Malbec/Bourdeaux blend. One of Dexter's favorites. I hope he's not pissed I filched it. It's crazy-expensive, but I adore it. It's super-yummy. I always think of it as a high-end black-cherry kool-aid."
Wren searched around a bit in a couple of cupboards, gave up, and asked Remy where the salad bowl was. He reached it down for her from a row of the cupboards opposite the ones she'd searched.
Wren loved working in Remy's kitchen -- powder blue walls, lots of old maple built-ins, and charmingly crappy yellow appliances. It felt like she'd been hanging out here for years.
Remy asked Wren to put some music on for them while they cooked, showing her how to play her phone through the table-top radio on the counter by the sink. She chose her favorite Tim Buckley album, BLUE AFTERNOON. `Superb choice' being Remy's immediate comment.
Wren ripped the dried lettuce into pieces, nibbling on a few small bits every now and then, like a bunny.
"Oh my God, Remy! This lettuce is delicious!"
"Tower Grocery. I don't know where Red gets his produce, but it's always amazing."
"We need to invite Red to our wedding, Remy. And have Tower Grocery do the catering."
"Hell yeah we do."
Wren cut the orange sections into more bite-sized bits and started on a dressing. Remy asked if she wanted croutons with the salad.
"Hells-to-the-yes! I adore croutons! Where are they, luv? I'll throw some on."
"I'll have to make them. Unless maybe you want to?"
Wren stared at him, processed what he said, then burst into laughter.
"Remy, that's so stupid! I'm so fucking sure you can make a crouton! Pretty sure only machines in some factory somewhere can make croutons. There's probably a machine that cuts them into perfect little thingies and bakes them, and then another machine packages them in a little foil bag-type thingy."
Remy rolled his eyes. Wren couldn't belive it.
"Dude, seriously? You can actually MAKE a crouton? That's insane!"
"We can be, like, the two machines in the crouton factory, who somehow become intelligent and fall in love. I'm the crouton-making-and-baking machine, you're the foil bag-type thingy."
Remy heated some oil in a cast-iron skillet, then cut up what was left of a two-day-old baguette. When the oil was hot enough, he added the bread cubes, salt, pepper, herbs, and some crushed garlic. He left it to cook on low, shaking the pan and stirring it around every now and then.
Wren watched goggle-eyed as the bread cubes browned and took firmer shape in the pan.
"Oh my God! Remy, that's incredible! It's like a magic trick or something!"
He laughed and kissed her, which led to hugging and fondling amid the heady scent of garlicky herbs sauteeing.
It was Remy's funky kitchen -- the music was lovely, the early evening light perfect, and the fragrance of Remy's cooking was like a heady perfume. Wren slunk down to her knees on the hardwood floor, to worship Remy's mostly-hard cock.
He told her, regrettably, he had to keep an eye on the croutons and start the filling for the omelet. She sighed, rose, and finished her vinaigrette.
Remy heated olive oil in a cast-iron skillet and sauteed some chopped garlic. When the garlic got fragrant, he added the shallot. When it was translucent, he threw in the spinach and stirred it around for a couple of minutes, then dumped it in a bowl, ground black pepper over it, sprinkled on some salt, and squeezed on the juice from a quarter of a lemon.
Then he crumbled a huge hunk of feta over the spinach mix.
Omelet filling done, he whisked 5 eggs in another bowl, added salt and pepper, then let 3 tablespoons of butter heat up in his cast-iron skillet.
Wren, having finished her vinaigrette, watched enthralled as her lover's strong, confident body move around the kitchen -- moving from fridge to stove to counter and back to stove with the elegant, assured grace of a young male ballet dancer.
When the butter began foaming angrily, Remy added the egg mixture, adjusted the heat, and let things set for a bit. He pulled Wren sexy-close.
After a few minutes of sexy fondling, Remy began peaking under the eggs with a spatula, every half-minute or so, to see how cooked the bottom was. When he liked what he saw, he added the spinach-shallot-feta mix, spreading it evenly over the eggs, then flipped one half of the cooked eggs over it, making a perfect semi-circle, and softly pressed down on it.
Letting the bottom of his omelet cook a bit more, Remy took the now-done croutons off the heat, then flipped the omelet over to let the other side brown a bit.
Wren was dazzled. She didn't even care if she even liked the omelet, it was superbly satisfying just watching Remy's beautifully choreographed culinary athleticism.
From the cupboard where the dishes were stored Remy grabbed two large, mismatched plates -- a chipped but gorgeous ivory Fiestaware plate and a souvenir plate from California -- and plated each with half of the omelet.
It looked amazing, Wren noticed, almost distractedly, her gaze wanting to stay focused on her boy's beauty.
"Wren, should I finish the salad?"
Wren woke out of her daze.
"I'm sorry, Remy. I was hypnotized, watching you move around the kitchen. Watching you cook is the second-most beautiful thing in the world. But OK, I'll finish the salad now."
She drizzled on her dressing and tossed the salad, then added the croutons (and some sunflower kernels Remy found hidden in back of the bread box) and tossed it again. She placed a big helping of greens on each plate alongside their serving of omelet.
Wren suddenly remembered she wanted her boy high as fuck later, because of what she had planned, and the gummies she had brought with her took at least forty-five minutes to kick in, so she ran upstairs to her tote bag and fished out her gummy tin. She took 2 herself and took 2 downstairs for Remy, popping them in his mouth then kissing him.
She re-filled their wine glasses, and they brought everything to the dining room table, where Wren loved eating, at the homey, beautifully restored, antique pine farm table, surrounded by her lover's gorgeously erotic art.
Remy dashed over to the living room and dropped the needle on a Chet Baker album that was lying on the portable stereo's turntable, while Wren went around plugging in fairy lights and lighting candles.
They sat next to each other, kissing and stroking, smiling and sipping wine, before they even touched their food.
Wren started to give Remy a serious hand job, unable to keep her hands of his incredible cock, but again he soberly kept them on task.
"Omelets aren't quite as good when they're cold, honey. Let's eat and then we can fuck all night, OK?"
That sounded like an acceptable compromise to Wren. She tucked in, immediately moaned out a rave review, and started shoveling in bite after bite.
"Oh my God, Remy! Unreal delicious! Omelets are fucking incredible! The eggs are so fluffy! And this filling is insane! I could eat three more of these! And then another helping of just the filling."
Her plate was hoovered up before Remy had even touched for his fork -- he'd been held stock-still by the demure girl's voraciousness.
Wren looked up from a now omelet-less plate and smiled at Remy with polite expectancy.
"Please may I have some more, Remy?"
Remy felt bad -- he hadn't made enough, apparently.
"Wren, I'm sorry, but that's it. I can't make another -- no more eggs and no more spinach."
"But there's lots more left on your plate, Remy. You obviously don't care for it as much as I. Please, Remy? Just a bit more? Please please please? I'm begging shamelessly like this because I never get to have food this good at my house."
Remy, delighted that Wren liked it, eagerly gave her what there was on his plate, his entire portion -- he hadn't taken even one bite yet, so transfixed was he by this unendingly beautiful girl.
He could fill up on salad, he figured.
Wren tore into more omelet. She stopped after a couple of huge bites because she suddenly heard how loudly she was eating.
"I'm humiliating myself, I realize, but this food is so delicious I don't even care. Once again, my culinary Lord, you have made what I would consider one of the 3 best meals I have ever eaten in my entire life. You're sure you don't mind sharing yours, love-bug?"
"Gor for it. I'm thrilled you like it. Your salad dressing, by the way, is superb."
"I can't even taste it. All I can taste is egg-licious magnificence. How did you learn to make this amazing dish?"
Remy cracked up.
"That's like asking how did I learn to make toast. You're wild, Wren -- you're like an alien who's landed on earth, experiencing human food for the first time."
"You're cooking is beyond human, Remy. It's super-natural."
"Hah!"
They ate quickly, both of them famished from all the sex, but Wren seemed to eat at twice the speed of Remy. Claiming these were the greatest croutons ever in human history, she finished the rest of the salad in the bowl before Remy had a chance for seconds.
She apologized again for being such a glutton, but reminded him she hadn't had anything made by a good cook in three years.
When every speck of omelet and salad was gone from her plate, Wren picked up the California souvenir plate and licked the surface with her tongue, over and over, mmmmming loudly.
She finally set down her dish, then reached over for Remy's cream-colored Fiestaware plate and gave it the same lusty-loud tongue-washing.
Remy seriously craved sex again now -- watching his girl's sensuous plate-tonguing and hearing those moans of satisfaction had him feeling super horny. He could just feel that greedy, snaky tongue of hers lavishing pleasure all over his cock.
They quickly washed the few dishes and pans there were and cleaned up the kitchen. Remy sported a jutting hard-on the entire time, much to the delight of Wren's playful fingers.
They grabbed their glasses and the rest of the wine and raced upstairs.
Back in Remy's room, Wren curled up on the couch, savoring the pleasure ahead, while Remy went over to the stereo to put on the side of DON JUAN'S RECKLESS DAUGHTER with the long jam Wren had mentioned, "Paprika Plains."
He read over the session-player credits for the song when he saw they were listed on the album-sleeve, to see if maybe any musicians from the Dead played on the track -- he had the vague idea that all those late-60s California musicians played on each other's records all the time.
Remy was jolted at seeing Wayne Shorter's name pop out from among a bunch of other musicians he'd never heard of. He loved Wayne Shorter, his second-favorite Miles Davis sax player. Shorter played both tenor sax and soprano, and wrote a lot of cool tunes, just like John Coltrane, Remy's favorite.
Remy thought Shorter's saxophone-playing was total genius -- long, cerebral, sinuously winding solos, sometimes loud and wild, sometimes sad and mellow (again like Coltrane). Remy could get stoned and draw for hours, flipping Miles' E. S. P. or SORCEROR albums over and over the whole while he worked, listening to Wayne Shorter's melodically inventive solos the same way he studied a Jerry Garcia guitar jam.
"Damn, Wren! Wayne Shorter's on this track! He played for Miles! Plus his own solo shit is superb. Dude's amazing, love his sound. I already love this album, Wren. Thanks for hipping me to it."
Wren loaded a bowl, and Remy clicked on a lesbian clip he'd bookmarked, which he thought was scorching hot. They kissed and fondled as they traded hits of pot, cooing at how hot the girls on screen were, as well as how amazing the Joni Mitchell track was.
Remy noted to Wren when the Shorter solo came on, and Wren said she'd always loved that part whenever she played the album.
The kissing and fondling turned into Remy jacking himself while giving Wren superb oral.
Wren could tell Remy was obviously buzzed, visibly hard, and seriously horny. Sublime sex was clearly starting, and she knew just what to do.
First, she was going to get him even higher and harder and hornier.
"Can we smoke just one more teensy bowl, Remy? Maybe scroll Twitter porn a bit?"
Of course they could -- a fully packed bowl, in fact, and they'd use her phone to scroll porn.
As a huge bowl and twenty minutes' worth of scrolling Wren's Twitter -- relentlessly Sapphic pix and clips, interspersed with the hard-core, Only Fans gay porn-sites Wren followed, rawer and blacker than Remy's more mainstream-gay feeds -- Remy was breathlessly horny.
She could tell he was aching to bone, but managed to stay his dashingly cool, alpha-sexy self. It made Wren excitedly proud of her young swain.
He was beautifully high and goofy, and his jutting cock twitched and throbbed and by this point was leaking a thin, steady stream of pre. He was clearly tamping down his explosive fuck-urge. Wren didn't need her suggestion spell to tell her that.
But she did use it, and got so enflamed when she channeled the fantasy running through Remy's mind -- of tonguing and fingering her madly in both holes at the same time, then fucking the shit out of her. Wren thought it was so dreamy, the way he was thinking of her pleasure upper-most.
"Oh Remy, rim me please now, angel! Both holes! Please please please."
"Holy fuck, Wren, you have read my mind! Yes yes yes!"
He dug in, divinely ravenous.
She felt sorry for her boy -- he was desperate to fuck, but trying to be a smooth lover-boy. Not all that sorry, though, because what he was doing to her was exquisite.
After she came four times, Wren could tell from Remy's heavy, labored breathing and his low, aching moans, his balls must be ready to burst with horniness, so she figured it was the perfect time to give Remy her last gift of the night. Something he didn't even know he craved already as badly as he would.
Oh, angel, she thought excitedly, I just know you're going to love this -- my Master, my Slave, my wonderfully complicated young Lord.
Wren clicked off her Twitter feed and turned to face her gorgeous young god, mentally centering herself. She'd nervously run through this scene over and over in her head the past few hours. She didn't want to get tongue-tied, so she'd scripted her opening line.
"Remy, thanks again for the gift of those records today."
"For sure -- and thank you, obviously, for the Sondheim records. Stoked to have my own copy of COMPANY now, love those songs. That other musical -- about the crazy barber? -- sounds amazing, too. That's the one Dexter hipped me to at dinner the other night, right? SWEENY TODD?"
Wren nodded. She smiled sweetly, knowing what her next line would be, too. She wished she could say it like Barbara Stanwyck, with that sly ambiguity.
"And surprise, Remy darling, because I actually have another gift for you."
She got up and walked over to her big tote bag. Remy called out nervously after her.
"Wren, seriously? Damn, now I feel bad I don't have anything else for you. Oh well, cool, I guess -- let's give each other gifts like this all the time, that'd be awesome!"
Indeed, Wren thought knowingly, gifts like this all the time would definitely be awesome.
Remy couldn't take his eyes off his girl. He would never tire of Wren's casual, stunning nudity, he knew. Perfect body, and the way she held herself, beautifully poised. Or the way she moved, conscious but elegant, like she's always on stage, always performing some mesmerizingly fascinating, intelligently choreographed, off-handedly erotic role.
Remy's head was a riotous swirl of Wren-lust.
As she walked back to the couch, Wren watched Remy's eyes on her -- glazed, spacey, smitten, and helplessly horned-up.
Mmmmm, he's so beautifully stoned, Wren thought, he's going to love this. It's going to make things just that much more amazing, she knew -- and they were already amazing.
`Gifts all the time' -- such a beautiful thought, my darling Hunter.
She sat back down next to him. Two small packages wrapped in bright red tissue paper sat atop her naked lap.
Wren looked at her lover with a face of serene innocence, but she was actually thinking of the insanely hot fantasies that had flooded her mind when she'd ordered these gifts online, the evening after that first incredible weekend with Remy.
"So, I have this gift for you, Remy. Then I also gave myself a gift -- to go along with yours. But first, here's yours, darling."
She handed him one of the small packages.
He pulled her close and kissed her, letting his fingers play softly over her juicy berry-red nipples. She shuddered with excitement -- both at his touch, but even more in anticipation of the pleasure to come, once they'd opened their gifts.
Wren was struggling to control her thoughts now, she realized nervously.
Since she hadn't yet taken her suggestion spell off Remy, she could simply just flood his mind now, overwhelming him with spectacular visions of the sex she wanted to have with these gifts she'd bought, making him mindlessly crave every bit of her wonderfully perverse lust. That would simplify everything and let them get beautifully on with things.
But she refused.
Wren wanted to leave Remy's will free from her spell's influence for this. She had to -- it was only fair, for something this major. She felt almost 100% positive Remy craved this as much as she did, but she had to be totally positive, so she wasn't going to use any magic for this.
Remy gently worked his fingers over the wrapped package, trying through touch to guess its contents, but then just tore open his present excitedly, like a little boy on his birthday. Wrapped inside was a plain, but nicely-tooled black leather band, with two silver loops on it. Remy's face went from the initial pre-opening anticipation to a puzzled sort of polite acknowledgement of Wren's present. He clearly had no idea what it was.
"Cool, Wren. Is this like another bracelet? I mean, I fucking love bracelets, obviously."
Remy slipped his hand through it the heavy leather band, but it was way too large for a bracelet. He looked up at Wren with smiling uncertainty.
Wren smiled, wide-eyed and devoted. Oh, this was going to be delicious.
"No, Remy. Not a bracelet, exactly."
He turned it over in his hands. Then a light went on in his eyes.
"I get it! It's one of those sexy arm bands the leather dudes in porn wear, right? Tight!"
"No, not quite. Here, let me show you."
She took the leather collar from him, unsnapped it, and fastened it around his neck.
"You wear it like that, Remy."
He let his fingers play over it, still unsure of the gift.
He'd originally been hoping, as he'd subtly fingered the gift before he opened it, that she'd got him a necklace -- the gift he really wanted.
Remy had been torn for a while now about buying a necklace for himself -- chains looked hot as fuck on a dude, he thought -- but since it was clearly such a major black boy look, he felt weird about copying the style. But he'd wear one in a heartbeat if someone gave it to him as a gift (happily relieving him of trying to solve the cultural appropriation quandry).
He wasn't too sure, though, about the style of this necklace-thing Wren bought him -- it wasn't even remotely the kind of sexy chain black boys wore. But leather was always cool, he figured, and after all, it was a gift from Wren, and that alone made it totally cool.
"It's awesome, Wren! I love leather!"
He got up and went over to the large, long, hotel-room mirror he'd mounted on the wall above his dresser, to see how it looked on him. Wren followed along, holding her other gift.
Remy posed and stared, adjusted the leather band a bit, turned and posed and stared some more in front of the mirror.
So gorgeous, Wren thought, she almost swooned. The second tissue-wrapped package, still held in her hands, trembled.
As Remy studied his reflection, he tried picturing himself wearing his new necklace at school. It wasn't really his look at all.
Damn, too bad Wren didn't get him a chain. That would have been so damn hot.
Wren, however, could feel her pussy grow moist from looking at him. The leather bondage collar, combined with his blonde buzz-cut, heart-throb handsome looks, and carved-marble muscle, made him look like a high school jock who'd found a summer job in a Berlin boy-bordello.
Remy kept staring and thinking, still unsure where or how he'd wear his new gift.
"I bet it will look cool with a tight T. Let's see."
Wren was still all sweet, shy innocence. She held his hand gently, though, to stop him from opening his dresser drawer.
"No, Remy. You're not really supposed to wear it with clothes. You wear it with exactly what you've got on now."
Which was nothing, of course.
Wren could see Remy was still confused.
"I'll show you, Remy. First, let's open my gift."
Wren gently unwrapped the second package.
At first Remy was excited because it was a short silver chain.
Hell yes, she fuckin did too get me a chain! Wren, I absolutely love you!
But then he saw there was a leather strap at one end, in a loop, like a handle. So, he thought it must be a dog leash.
Did Wren buy a dog, Remy wondered? Or buy me one? Nah, it's way too short for a leash.
Wren brought the chain up to Remy's neck.
Maybe it really is a chain, Remy thought, excited again.
"Let me show you how it works, darling."
She kissed him first -- long, slow, sensuous, open-mouthed -- a kiss that announced the sex had begun.
Remy moaned breathlessly. His cock twitched and strained.
Wren attached the short lead to Remy's collar and pulled him over to the bed, forcefully, then yanked him down on the floor mattress with her. Remy was tingling with excitement, finally realizing what his girl's amazing `gift' really was.
Wren scooted her ass back against the pillows, pulling Remy along in tow. She rested her back against the wall and jerked her boy's head down to her cunt, gripping the leash firm and close so Remy couldn't move at all. Holding the lead tightly with one hand, she used her other hand to push Remy's face into her slit.
"Eat me, Remy! Eat my pussy!"
Remy's glazed eyes now gleamed with wild energy.
"Aw fuck, Wren! This is hot as fuck!"
Remy was like a man possessed, tonguing and licking and snorting, hard as fuck from Wren's total control over him.
Wren held the chain firmly as she mashed her now-engorged clit up and down against Remy's tongue, working her hips to pleasure herself on his mouth.
"Suck it! Suck my clit!"
Remy was ferocious in his licking and sucking and tonguing and biting. The normal excitement he felt is being Wren's pussy slave kicked in full-bore, as if an instinct had been suddenly triggered, now that he was held captive. He became inspired in his clit-licking, sucking on it like a small cock.
Wren shrieked, as loud as a whispery-soft voice could shriek, when she climaxed. She pulled harder on his head, forcing him to lick up every drop of her tangy juice.
No need for force, though -- no way Remy would be denied her nectar. He lapped at her cunt voraciously, as if he were dying of thirst in the desert and miraculously happened upon a cactus leaf, crazed to suck out every last drop of succulence.
Wren let go of the lead for just a second, to slip her hand under her ass, then quickly snatched it back.
Remy's face, she saw, was red and sweaty from having been almost smothered against her cunt. Not missing a beat, she jerked him down to lick her boy-hole.
"Eat my ass now, Remy! Oh God, I'm so fucking horny for you, darling!"
Wren held the lead firm as she wantonly worked her boy's head, pulling this way and that, pleasuring her boy-pussy with his eager mouth. As close in as she could get him to her butt-hole she held her lead, her other hand forcing hard against the back of his buzzed-sexy head.
Like a girl possessed, she writhed and wriggled her hips over Remy's mouth while pressing his head tight against her hole, masturbating herself on his hole-crazed tongue.
Wren was in heaven, working her hips against her slave's luscious oral. Her free hand jiggled wildly on her clit, and she came again.
"More, Remy! MORE! Keep eating my ass! Oh my fucking God, you're so damn good! You're making me so damn wet."
Remy strained to pull his head back an inch, so he could finger out a gob of Wren's thick, clear pussy-honey, which he used to lube Wren's boy-hole, fingering it sensuously like he would a boy's, coating it with the taste he savored.
Wren panted and moaned, which sent electric currents thrilling through Remy's cock.
The best fucking sex with Wren, always, hands down, he thought, his brain whirling.
The hold Wren was using on Remy's head meant his nose had gotten wedged into her pussy-slit. The strong, heady scent of her pussy-musk began hitting him like poppers.
Remy's moaning and grunting and snorting and gulping were transporting to Wren.
Her lust reached an even higher height when she caught sight of the phallic magnificence of his hard-on, huge and jutting and mighty.
"You're like harder than you've ever been before, Remy! I can fucking control your cock with this collar."
Remy's cock surged crazily from Wren's acknowledgement of her supreme power over him.
Wren exulted in her mastery as she crowed over and over how she owned Remy's dick.
Her ass felt more excited than ever before. She needed to feel that cock she could harden at will, apparently, inside her hole.
But not quite yet. More of his delicious tonguing and sucking and snorting, more of him pleasuring her like this.
Lights started flashing in her mind. For the first time ever, she could actually feel her ass-juices begin to flow. Her brain felt like there was an electrical storm going off in her head.
Wren kept her hand firmly clenched on the lead as she savored Remy's sublime rimming, fingering her clit and relishing her body/mind high, concentrating of the subtle seepage of her ass-fluid.
She'd cum five times so far, and she came again. As the climax shook her body, she pulled Remy roughly up across her stomach, stopping at her chest. She jerked the chain a bit so that Remy's mouth was over her left nipple and held him there.
"Suck my nipple, Remy! HARD -- super hard!"
"Oh fuck yes!"
Remy's flushed face was dripping perspiration. His still-glazed eyes burned brightly, as if he either had a high fever or was discovering a new planet.
He was on her nipple in a second, tonguing and sucking and biting and licking, orally worshipping his prize, gulping out his delirium.
"Wren, this is fucking amazing!"
Wren yanked the lead even tighter and pushed Remy's head against her tit.
"SUCK IT, Remy! Worship my tit!"
Remy dug in again, covering Wren's long, over-sized nipple with his lips, sucking it like a small dick, lavishing all the hunger he normally felt for cock-sucking on it, which was immeasurable. He swirled his tongue around it, the way he would a cock-head, nipped at it, sucked it, bit it, tongue-tipped it. All the while, Wren cried and gasped and fingered herself.
Wren did that thing where her soft, high-pitched whisper-voice seemed to evaporate into air, and Remy knew that meant she was cumming again. He felt the tremor of her climax through his pressed-tight face -- it made him feel closer than ever to her.
Wren pulled him over to her right nipple.
Nipple-play went on for about fifteen more minutes, then about ten minutes on her pussy again.
At last -- her control markedly weakening, overpowered by her ecstasy -- she pulled him back down to her boy-hole, to ready her, finally, for the anal she craved.
Wren had become adept at leading her boy with the chain -- mainly because Remy had become quickly attuned to the least bit of force on his neck, and so his agile young body moved instantly wherever he felt Wren going. Their bondage-play became like an athletic pas de deux between the two of them, or some sort of gracefully raw apache dancing.
At the exact moment Wren could no longer stand not feeling Remy's thick long hardness reaming her boy-hole, she felt all force vanish from her will, and all strength drain from her muscle. His cock had won, as she knew it would. The power of a boy's cock over her was inevitable.
Wren let the lead drop and begged her Lord shamelessly to take her, to fuck her ass, to pound it hard and deep, to rip the shit out of her.
Remy was near exhaustion, but Wren's admission of defeat instantly rallied him. His cock suddenly felt like it might explode if he didn't put it in one of Wren's holes.
Wren was using the suggestion spell to flood Remy's mind with her fierce hunger for anal.
Grinning demonically, Remy slid his throbbing hardness into the alluringly saliva-glazed `O' of her well-opened, well-lubed boy-hole and quickly began pounding the fuck out of her.
With a force he hoped could even half-match the power of her complete and total domination of him.
While brutally pummelling her hungry hole, Remy bent down and kissed her tenderly, all over her lips and cheeks and throat and chest, panting how he was her slave, how hard it got him being in her control .
The idea of her mastery seemed utter folly to Wren now. Her voice came out in choked, breathless gulps, repeating the same two-word phrase over and over, mindlessly.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
Her slender body was wracked with the force of Remy's unbridled desire. She was thrown back on the pillows, up against the wall. Remy's hard, steady, wonderful pounding had her body jostling back and forth and up and down, like her body was giggling idiotically. That wonderfully big dick was giving her the most outrageously wonderful ride she could imagine.
As he pounded, the two of them alternated teasing her clit.
Wren came three times before Remy finally erupted into her clenched-tight hole.
Afterward, they just lay beside each other on the floor mattress, feeling their heartbeats return to normal. Remy's charmingly bohemian garret was bathed in the soft pink light from the bedside lamp on the turned-over milkcrate he used for a nightstand. The small lamp shade was still covered in the pink crepe de chine scarf Wren had covered it with that first weekend together.
Remy's thoughts were on his Fairy-Land Queen, who kept revealing to him one arcane sexual secret after another.
He confessed agains softly how much he loved being her slave, what a total rush it was being totally in a girl's power, in her power, how she'd given him the best gift possible.
Wren smiled beatifically.
"You are my slave, Remy -- my Lord, my Master, my Slave. If you weren't both my Master and my Slave, I don't think I could love you. I mean, how could I, if I didn't respect you ultimately?"
Wren immediately changed the subject and announced they needed take more phone videos of each other masturbating, so that then they'd have a whole bunch of clips to choose from, to jack to on nights when they were apart. That made total sense to Remy, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it.
First they went over to the stereo and put on another of the records they'd bought, the "Wharf Rat" side of SKULL FUCK, which Wren loved instantly.
Wren wanted another `bate-clip of Remy in the shower, sudsing up all that gorgeous muscle, then jacking and fingering himself with soap-slick fingers. They watched it together after she filmed it, jacking themselves to how hot it was, then watched it and jacked again.
Remy's turn to film his girl. He told Wren to get herself off in whatever way she thought was hottest, and he'd just keep his phone trained on her.
Wren went over to Remy's file-dresser and grabbed the glass dildo she'd left in his bedroom after school the other day, then walked back across the loft-space.
She slithered up onto one of Remy's couches and came to rest on her knees, in an artfully seductive pose, with her ass facing Remy. He came close and found a good image of her with his phone.
Wren reached behind to tease her ass with the dildo, licking it now and then, putting it further and further in her boy-hole.
She took breaks to turn her head towards Remy's phone, making a show of sensuously sucking on the dildo every time she pulled it from her ass to wet it up, making it look like she was sucking Remy's luscious dick.
Remy was so turned on he wanted to drop his phone and reach over and ravish his girl, but he kept the camera recording.
Wren pulled the dildo put, played it up and down her ass-crack, then started fucking her pussy with it, doggy-style, with her ass up close to Remy's phone, taking breaks every now and then to tease Remy more by deep-throating the glass rod.
Finally, because she wanted her boy to know what a total ass-slut she was, Wren started fucking her boy-hole with the dildo again, hard as she could, while feverishly working her clit with the fingers of hr other hand, getting a loud `Fuck!' from Remy, who edged closer, pointing his phone with one hand, while jacking his hard, jutting prick with the other.
The two of them came within moments of each other. Remy immediately sent the video to his cloud storage and then downloaded it to his laptop, not wanting to take any chances with the hottest solo porn clip he'd ever seen.
Wren maintained that one day soon they needed to sit down together and seriously parse and study all the 'bate clips of each other they take, to analyze how best to pleasure each other. Plus, she said, it would make for dreamy foreplay -- getting naked and hard, jacking each other off, while watching videos of each other jacking off.
Wren kept secret the fact that for the past few days, she'd actually been doing that herself -- studying the j/o vids she'd previously taken of Remy, to determine which were her boy's most sensual erogenous zones. According to her research, they were butt, cock, nips, abs, and those full, soft, gorgeous lips -- so those were the areas she'd been zeroing in on in their love-making ever since, wanting to get Remy enslaved to sex with her as quickly as possible.
Wren's goal was to be the premier expert on Remy Lord's body, versed in all possible techniques of how to make her boy achieve maximum pleasure.
Her solo j/o clips of Remy had become Wren's porn of choice -- she'd even edited them all into a long, dreamy compilation clip, to which she masturbated several times daily. She could watch her boy's naked, perfectly carved body, for hours and hours, naked herself and lost in self-pleasure, awash in images of Remy worshipping his muscles, softly teasing his shaft and tip and balls and pucker until he achieved full-bore hardness, letting huge trails of spit drool down from those luscious lips to lube his cock all over so the serious stroking could begin, slipping one hand behind to finger his hole.
Or the films she'd taken of him soaping all that gorgeous muscle, big-ass dick, and firm, sexy glutes in the shower. Remy could get lost under the steam, worshipping his hot body with soap-slick fingers, burnishing his physique with the loving care of a connoisseur for his most precious possession.
Then, all soaped and stimulated and ready to burst, came the jacking -- exquisite!
The section of all those j/o shower-clips spliced together was definitely the hottest part of her compilation video, she thought.
And then there were those awesome endings to all her `Remy Solo J/O' clips! His massive cum-shots! Remy always came in long, thick, endless ropes of boy-cream, then always wiped up as much of his load as he could get, with a finger he would then slowly suck and savor, his gorgeous lips always breaking into that same soft, shy, heart-breaking smile for Wren's phone when he'd finished the last drop.
Wren had decided, though, that Remy didn't really need to know that she'd edited all of her `Remy J/O' videos together into a single long video file, and that she'd even sent a copy of it to Njeri and Desi, ridiculously proud to show off to the other girls what a gorgeous, sexy, big-dicked muscle-god their mousy little friend Wren Damson now had for a boyfriend.
Wren felt a little sheepish, of course, because she was pretty sure her girls had forwarded copies to all their girlfriends, who'd probably then sent copies to their girlfriends, as well as all the hot gay black boys at school, of course, who'd be only too thrilled to have solo j/o clips of the crazy-hot new white boy at school.
But that'd be cool, she figured. Remy wouldn't care. After all, the circulation of sex videos was fairly common at No Hope. Sexually active students, when they hooked up, often used their phones like just another sex toy.
Plus, kids were sending each other hot, naked selfies all the time, just to say hi. Boys, especially, according to Njeri, constantly sent their bros vids of themselves naked, either jacking or showing off muscle gains.
Wren had been schooled by Lavender and Njeri, at the end of freshman year, on using her phone during sex. All the girls they hung with adored having videos of themselves sexing up another girl.
Wren had always eagerly watched the sexy phone videos black girls shared in the locker room, after gym class, of themselves hooking up with a hot black boy -- doing a striptease for him, say, or their sexy boy posing and flexing or jacking, or the couple dancing naked, or the girl sucking a boy or a boy eating her pussy.
Invariably, Wren had learned, both the girl and the boy would set their phone on a nightstand to get some footage of the actual fucking, clips of which would be shared afterwards with your boys or your girls.
When three or more teens had sex together, serious amateur porn often resulted.
The clips that showed fucking were hot, of course, but Wren thrilled most to footage of the black girl rimming and teasing a black boy's hole, then finger-fucking him mercilessly, the boy usually groaning in undisguised bliss. Wren always got seriously wet watching any porn like that, which showed how easy it was to get complete control over a boy and reduce him to a pool of mewling lust.
Remy had told Wren that he'd experienced a little sex-camming at his old school. He'd been to a few parties where black dudes took phone videos of the eager young white boys sucking their dick, himself included, but none of them had ever shared copies of those videos with Remy afterwards, unfortunately.
Around nine-thirty that Friday night, the young lovers decided to spend some time on homework, since the rest of their weekend would be busy. Remy put another side of his new Joni Mitchell record on to listen to while they worked.
Their math problems were a breeze, even for Remy, after which Remy wrote up the lab notes for the bread-mold experiment he and Wren had done that week in Chemistry, while Wren worked on her history free-write (Remy had finished his Thursday in study hall).
When their written work was finished, they traded hits off another packed-full bowl and snuggled up nude together in Remy's bed, while Wren read aloud their assigned reading for Monday's English class -- Books 3 and 4 of Ovid's METAMORPHOSES.
They both got wonderfully aroused as Wren took the part of the beautiful nymph, Salmacis, from the scene where she first sees Hermaphroditus, the gorgeous son of Mercury and Venus.
"Magnificent boy! One could easily take you to be a god! If you are a god, you must surely be Cupid. How lucky the woman who nursed you as a child and gave you her breasts to suck! Let me be your bride and take me at once to your bed!"
Remy -- high and horny as fuck -- wondered to himself, given the way she was lewdly stroking his cock, if Wren wasn't really thinking about him, rather than Hermaphroditus, as she read the steamy passage. He smiled proudly, thinking that she must be.
Wren had been using her suggestion spell to spy on what was going in Remy's mind as she read the erotic poetry. She laughed out loud when she learned he was wondering if Wren had been thinking about him as a young god. Without thinking, she blurted out her chiding response to his smug vanity.
"Of course I'm thinking about you as I read about this gorgeous young boy, Remy! You needn't be so self-satisfied about it!"
Remy gaped.
"Wren, how the fuck did you know that's exactly what I was thinking about?"
Fuck, she blew it. She'd tipped her cards.
Wren realized she'd have to keep better control over herself and her powers or Remy might start getting a clue about things.
She pivoted, turning the focus back on him.
"Of course I knew that's what you were thinking! Remy, you're the most narcissistic boy in history! I mean, deservedly so, of course, but still -- ."
He smiled his shit-eating grin, kissed her, and told her to keep reading and keep stroking.
Damn, thought Wren, that was close. But still, she didn't need magic to read Remy's mind. His mind was like a clear glass room she could see right into -- a bedroom, usually, full of hot, hard-muscled, big-dicked boys, with a bed in the middle, on which, in most of his daydreams, was perched a slender, naked girl, with Remy kneeling beside her, gazing at her in wonder before burying his head between her legs.
Oh, we're so in love, Wren thought dreamily, as she returned to the story.
Several lines later, Wren's voice grew wildly excited as she read them the scene where Salmacis saw Hermaphroditus bathing naked.
"The sight of him naked fired her desire to new heights! Stripping off all her clothes and tossing them aside, she dove in after her quarry, grabbed hold of his limbs as he struggled against her, greedily kissing him, sliding her hands underneath him to fondle his unresponsive nipples."
It wasn't just Ovid's erotically-charged scenario that had Wren's voice trembling with passion -- Remy's head lay next to her pussy, and he'd been softly kissing and licking and fingering her as she read.
With her clit on a slow-burn tingle from her boy's pussy-play, Wren held the book with one hand as she read, and with the other she started slow-jacking Remy's thickening dick.
It took Remy no time at all to get hard, especially given the soft-core porn Wren was reading them. Thank you, Ms. Beam, for the perfect foreplay homework assignment!
They were both wet and hard by the time Wren finished reading the pages assigned them for homework. Since they were already in bed, they sixty-nined until Wren came twice then begged Remy for another fucking (instantly granted).
After which, Wren requested more Grateful Dead for them to dance to, so Remy put on the copy of AMERICAN BEAUTY he'd bought her at Ollie's.
Wren adored Remy's dancing -- she could dance and groove naked with him for hours. He had an innate sense of rhythm, refined by all the sexy rolls and grinds he'd taught himself watching male-stripper videos on the internet, as well as the hip-hop moves he'd picked up at house parties and the all-ages dance clubs he'd frequented in the mostly-black section of Milwaukee where he'd lived.
As for herself, Wren had been dancing alone in her room in front of the mirror so much the past three years, she could probably land a spot in a Broadway chorus line (especially one doing a production of HAIR).
As much as she loved dancing with Remy, she also adored watching Remy dance, so occasionally she took breaks and just sat back on the couch, her legs wide open, fingering herself sensually while Remy jacked his body around to the Dead, preening and posing for his girl.
As Wren watched, mesmerized, her pussy wet and glistening as she played with herself, she tried yet again to analyze just why Remy was the most gorgeous boy she'd ever known. He had utter physical perfection, of course, but his perfect beauty was made wholly irresistible because of the thrilling confidence he took in his looks -- he inhabited his features loudly, fully, defiantly, excitingly.
It was the difference, Wren thought, between a beautifully appointed room, everything elegant and perfect but empty, and that same room with the best party ever going on in it. A powerful sense of exuberant, thrilling life seemed to pulsate through Remy's beauty, italicizing it, making him alive and gorgeous and compellingly attractive.
His painstakingly sculpted muscles seemed to bulge and ripple that much more sensuously because of the strong, athletic grace and quiet control animating his body's movement. Remy moved, Wren thought, like a mountain lion -- consciously cntrolled, every sleek, lean, defined muscle in perfect harmony, brimming with strength and power.
After dancing to both sides of the Dead album, they chilled naked on the couch with pot and red wine. Wren begged Remy for some sexy Pigpen songs as background music, so he put on 8/21/68 @ the Fillmore West, which had an amazing "Alligator" and "Lovelight."
Wren started her social media scroll, showing a non-stop stream of gorgeous girls having sex, as well as muscular boys jacking and sucking and fucking. They watched clip after clip, kissing each other, while stroking and fingering and tonguing themselves to blissful climaxes as Pigpen's raunchy blues played.
Wren asked breathlessly at one point why Pigpen's songs were the mosy erotic. Remy had an immediate answer.
"Phil Lesh, the Dead's bass player, once said that Pigpen's theme was `the infinite glory and variety of love,' so there's that."
Wren looked beatific.
"That's our exact theme, too, Remy!"
Remy glowed with the wonderment of his life -- the hottest girl ever for a girlfriend, who loved the Dead like he did, plus all the hot boys he could ask for. `Infinite variety of love,' indeed!
He thought about the day ahead of him tomorrow -- Willy and McKinley in the morning, Teen Town boy-orgy, then more Mick again in the afternoon.
"McKinley is incredible, by the way, Bird. Thanks again for making that happen."
"I'm so glad, Hunter! I want my lover to have all the boys he needs. I knew Mick would be perfect. I really want to get together with you two again when I can stay longer."
"Why not tomorrow? He and Willy and I are going for a run in the morning and check out Teen Town after, then Mick and I are gonna do a few hours of yard-work, at his place and mine. We should be done around 3, maybe -- you could hang with us then. Ava's gonna be with Sin all day, so we'll have the house to ourselves."
"Yes, please!"
"I'll ask Mick if he can stay for dinner and another sleep over. It'd be so damn hot -- a threesome tomorrow with Mick and you."
"I'm wet already, Remy. Yes yes yes! White Boy Cock-Lust!"
"Maybe you and Mick can even help me make food for my Game Day party?"
"I love cooking with you, Remy darling. It'll be sublime having another naked boy in the kitchen with us."
Wren kissed his thick cock all over to thank him for the dreamy invitation. Then, shyly apologizing for being such a greedy slut, she begged Remy to let her stay for at least a little of his Game Day party on Sunday, too.
The reason she gave Remy for wanting to crash his party a bit was that she wanted to get footage for more REMYPORN' -- specifically, a Remy's Game Day Boy-Orgy' clip, done GUYS GONE WILD-style. Truthfully, she just wanted to be with Remy and a bunch of naked black boys.
She hoped she might even join the all-boy fuck-fest for a while, sucking as many cocks as she could, if Remy's guests didn't mind. Wren had never been with any of the gay/bi black boys from school, other than Trey, so she didn't know the racial politics of queer-boy partying at No Hope.
Remy was equally uncertain of how those dudes rolled, sex-party-wise, so he shot a text to the boys he'd invited, explaining Wren's request. After getting excited approval from Wren, he even sent the dudes her `Remy & McKinley' clip, to give them an idea of what Wren wanted to do in terms of filming his Game Day party.
He received a few replies instantly. The dudes were all stoked, most of them adding that Willy had already sent them that clip, which they all thought was hot as fuck. Remy read each text to Wren as he got it, both of them delighted to learn that boys at school were fans of her `REMYPORN'.
Wren played a couple of her favorite GUYS GONE WILD vids for Remy, explaining how she adored the premise -- adorably sexy, undoubtedly drunk, super-horny college boys, talked into getting naked and showing off on Spring Break, while asked all sorts of provocative questions, and given lots of outrageous suggestions, by sly, seductive girls off-camera.
Remy had never seen them before but was into them immediately, telling Wren which dudes he'd most like to fuck.
They discussed the videos for a while, with an almost analytic dispassion, trying to figure out if they offered any strategies for Wren to make her own porn-clips hotter, until they both got overwhelmed by seeing all those sexy college-boy amateur porn models.
Remy started moaning with lust and jacked himself to leaky hardness watching an incredibly hot shower scene.
Wren always felt deep, ineffable tremors pulsate through her whenever she watched Remy pleasure himself to gay porn.
The two lovers stroked and fingered each other to a couple of gloriously nasty climaxes during GUYS GONE WILD BEST 50 BUTTS.
They ended the evening early because Remy wanted to be rested up for his busy Saturday morning.
Before they curled up in bed, around midnight, for the last sex of their `Record-Store Date-Night,' Wren asked a question that delighted Remy when she softly voiced it.
"My most sexy Lord, my most gorgeous Master, can I possibly move some of my stuff over here? Clothes and underwear and sketchpads and things? So I don't have to lug so much junk over all the time when I sleep over?"
"Hell yes! I'll move all my stuff into one file drawer tomorrow. I ain't got but fuck-all anyway. Plus there's a ton of space in my closet."
They both drifted off in dreamy domesticity.
Remy's alarm woke the young lovers early the next morning. Sleepy kisses and sluggish fondling in bed led to some superbly satisfying sex -- sloppy, increasingly sensuous sixty-nining to start, which soon had Wren riding her boy's huge hardness.
Remy was in heaven watching his slender hippie-girl sylph writhe and bounce on him, moaning trance-like as she rode his hardness, as sex-crazed and cock-addled as any boy he'd ever fucked.
I'm living the hippie-boy dream, Remy realized-- almost always naked and high, fucking boys and girls, making art, and grooving on the Grateful Dead. Those 60s dudes sure knew what the fuck was up, he sighed to himself.
Wren worshipped Remy's chest and mercilessly savaged her boy's nipples while she worked her cunt fast and hard over his cock. She came three times before Remy finally climaxed, pumping his seed into Wren as she demanded.
Remy loved shooting his load into Wren's cunt -- it seemed so damn sexy to him, like the ultimate upshot of sex, breeding his girl, marking her with his seed, mating with her, making her just that much more his.
Wren thought it best to take as many loads from Remy, as quickly as she could now, so she could become pregnant with their baby as quickly as possible. Then, once Remy's baby was growing in her, she meant to start fucking the black boys in Remy's crew as often as possible.
Remy let Wren shower and dress while he made coffee and some toast on whole-grain seed bread, which he slathered with peanut butter then studded with wild blueberries. After a charmingly love-struck breakfast at the kitchen table, Remy made quick work of the dishes, then got his running gear on, to be ready for Willy and Mick, while Wren did a sexy reverse strip-tease for him.
When they were both dressed, Remy walked his girl up the street to the Damson House.
Wren kissed him goodbye at her front door, pleased her dreamy young god was going to have all that boy-time today. She called out to Remy as his running shoes made a pleasant rhythm trotting down her thirteen front steps, reminding him to text her when he and McKinley were finished with the yard-work.