Thursday, June 2, 2016

New Cravings

I'm back! Temporarily that is. Posts are going to be infrequent for now but they'll be happening.
Quick update as well, I decided to add a new tag, nympho, for those poor unfortunate men who end up in the bodies of a nymphomaniac who just really need the D.
"Uhh, aren't you going to let me have my drink?" Ian asked the girl across from him.

"Shuddup, man. You wanna get me drunk so you can get between my legs right?" She said taking the two cups up to her mouth and chugging the two at the same time.

"Look, I don't know who you think I am but I'm not that kind of guy..." Ian said sternly.

"Fuck man, you're totally that kind of guy. You got more gel than hair on your head, you're wearing a gold watch, you bought me a mojito with Bacardi, not wells,  and you arrived here wearing fucking sunglasses at night!" She gestured towards Ian and continued to down his and her drinks.

"Hey, if you want me to go I'll go." Ian began standing up, the girl reached across the table and caught his hand in mid stand.

"Please don't," she said, "I want to get laid as much as you. You don't understand, this body needs the D like a methhead needs meth. I can't focus with all these withdrawals, so let's just skip the chit-chat and go to me place." Ian pulled away, her neediness was too much despite her hotness. "Please man, help a bro out!"

"You're fucking crazy," he said putting on his jacket. "I'm out of here." And with that Ian was gone.

Trapped inside of the body of Ian's date was Victor. Six weeks ago his body was stole from him on a Tinder date with the girl he now was. She left him with the message "enjoy the new cravings," then disappeared with his body forever. At first he didn't know what she meant, but as time went on, every Calvin Kline ad would make him warm, every Abercrombie he passed with their photos of men too masculine to be real would make him wet, he daydreamed of taking every man he passed on the street back home and what it would be like to be pounded by them all day long. And Victor was disgusted with those thoughts, even though he new possessed tits and a vagina the thought of doing anything with another man's dick made him shiver.

As the cravings grew he began masturbating more, first a finger, then two, then three, then a whole fist. That never did the trick. Next it was a dildo, then a vibrator. They could only temporarily satisfy his new found apatite. He thought he might need somebody else in control instead, so he would go to lesbian bars, bring back a curious girl and convince her to use a strap-on. That was even worse, sure it felt great, but the static plastic rod as it penetrated deep inside his pussy felt empty, like romanticless sex. He needed something soft but firm, something that had subtle movements pulsing inside him, he needed a real dick, so Victor set up a Tinder profile and only matched with the guys most likely to put out. Ian was his first date, and even his forwardness couldn't get him laid.

Victor put his head on the table and sighed.

"Need anything else miss?" A male voice asked. He looked up and locked eyes with the man. He wore a white long sleeve button down with a crimson tie, his black hair was disheveled but clean, his eyes as blue as the ocean, his black khaki pants were just tight enough to hint as the size of his enormous package. He was their waiter.

"Miss?" The waiter asked again. Victor snapped out of his trance, the dreamy man was just a man now, average in every bit of the way.

"No nothing, thank you anyways," Victor said.

"Well let me know if you do," the wait said and spun around. Victor caught the man's ass, it was so firm and solid through his pants, so sexy...

"Actually," Victor said reaching into his purse and producing a pen and posted note. He jotted something down. "I do want something from you." He handed the note to the waiter. "Call me when you get off work." Victor winked.

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