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Message-ID: <36280asstr$1019841006@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: See.signature.line@lycosmail.com (Y. Lee Coyote)
Reply-To: YLeeCoyote@lycosmail.com
Subject: {ASSM} St: The Dancer (M/M, magic, sex)
Date: Fri, 26 Apr 2002 13:10:07 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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St: The Dancer (M/M, magic, sex)

The following story is fiction.  Unlike most of my stories this one does
not have any spanking or shaving but gets into fantasy that for the lack
of a better story code is 'magic' and sex.  If such subjects are
offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please
leave now.  

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited
without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if
complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including
constructive criticism, and suggestions. E-mail:
YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com


The Dancer
By
Y. Lee Coyote


I was thrilled that my favorite Russian Ballet dancer was coming to town
to perform.  The day the tickets went on sale I rushed to the concert
hall to get my very own ticket.  The house was dark this night but not
the shop and, far more important, the box office was open.  There was
not any line and it took the clerk only seconds to pull my ticket to
Shangri-la from the thick bundle.  My shaking hands took much longer
with counting out the small bills I had been hoarding for my indulgence.
There would be many more days with day-old bread and home cooked
hamburger for this.  Then I turned to look around.  The advertising
poster caught my eye.  I moved closer and stared at it for a long time.

I could not believe my eyes.  He; my dancer; my personal deity was more
beautiful and even handsomer than I had recalled.  I tore myself away to
go to the shop.  Unfortunately, they were not selling the poster and
everything else I had gotten long ago.

Back in the lobby I stared at the poster.  It was a photo of my god with
a couple of other dancers.  Set in a practice room, he was leaning on
the barre.  I could see the photographer, and his gear reflected in the
mirror, giving directions to pose the dancers.  It was almost like I was
looking through a window into the room.

I have no idea how long I stood there, practically pressing my nose up
against the glass case with  the poster with my precious Russian Ballet
ticket clutched tightly in my hand.  I realized that I no longer heard
the noise of people moving about the concert hall lobby to and from the
ticket window and the shop with the snotty clerk.  I carefully studied
each and every detail of the image.  Then I realized that my god was
different!  All three had towels about their necks ready to wipe the
perspiration as they worked out.  The other two were in tights and
shoes.  My god was nude!  I intently studied his body.  He looked
totally at ease.  His muscles rippled under his flawless skin.  He was
sleek, strong and powerful.  I could see both sides of him because of
the mirror.  The way his tight bubble butt curved and the way his great
phallus hung down over his large balls.  

Then the realization struck.  It was not that he was nude but that I was
not surprised that was in a poster in this sedate concert hall and even
outside on the public highway.  Also I had seen the poster before and I
was certain that he was in tights like the others were.  As I continued
to stare the frame about the poster seem to fade as if each corner was
being drawn outward letting the image grow.  It even seem to grow in
depth.  Then there was a FLASH of blinding light.

<< Thank you.  That will be all.  I'll have the proofs tomorrow. >> Then
I heard a door open and felt the draft.  SLAM. It closed -- a heavy
wooden door.  The concert hall had glass and metal revolving doors.  I
saw the reflection of the door move in the mirror. Although it was
Russian that was spoken I understood it even though I don't know any
Russian.

The other guys said << Let's go for tea. >> and then he and the
ballerina left leaving just my god.  He stepped from the barre and I was
sure that he smiled me.  I looked about and there was not anyone else
there; it must have been me that he smiled at.  I watched him practice a
few steps and seemed to be getting closer.  Even just his practice moves
were poetry in motion.  The floor was wood -- for dancing -- under my
feet not the terrazzo of the concert hall lobby.  I was mesmerized by my
own personal god dancing -- dare I even think it -- for me; by his
muscles flexing under his beautiful skin; by the scent of this virile
alpha male in his prime; and by his magnificent phallus which had grown
hard and now jutted out from his perfect form like a rod of steel
covered in rich velvet.

He was the center of the universe and there was nothing else.

Then he stopped in front of me.  I was like a statue; naked and
immobile.  (Where were my clothes?  How did they disappear from my ugly
form?)  He looked into my eyes; deep into my eyes.  I tried to turn away
like Shere Khan had to before Mowgli but I could not move; my body would
not; could not respond to my will any longer.  My own god looked deep
and long into my soul.

I lost track of time.

I felt his towel; his towel wet with his quintessence about my neck.  He
was holding the ends and pulling down.  I was on my knees with my eyes;
my entire being transfixed on his great hard shaft.  I saw a drop of his
essence at the tip.  Impulsively I stuck out my tongue and licked it
off.  Ambrosia does not; could not come close to describing it.

Then I realized what I had done.  I had touched my god.  I had touched
my god without his permission.  Surely I have sinned greatly.  I had
proved myself unworthy.  I was crushed.  I fell forward and my head hit
the floor between his feet.  I started to cry in my pain.

Then my head was gripped between his ankles and feet.  My god had
deigned to touch me.  Was I to be saved or to be crushed like some
vermin not worthy of existence?

I was saved for he turned his toes in so that they were under my lips.
I kissed them.  I licked them.  Dare I move up?

I sensed permission.  I started to lick the tops of his feet without
daring to look up.  I was not snuffed out so I continued.  I could feel
the strength of his tendons and power of his muscles under his skin
glowing with his perspiration.  As I approached his knees, I thought a
little, fervent prayer that he would not stop me.  The towel had
disappeared.  I continued upward to the great muscles of his thighs that
enabled him to make those stunning leaps on stage even carrying the
ballerinas so fortunate to be in his hands.

As I continued, I saw his sack holding his great testes.  Did I dare to
lave that; that which I had so long longed for without any hope of
seeing much less touching.  By now my hands were holding the back of his
thighs, gripping his powerful hamstrings.  I licked that wonderful pouch
for a long time which was drawn up tight against his great manhood, no,
godhood.  His orbs were too large to take into my mouth.

As I licked them I also continued to his steel hard shaft.  I finally
felt the hardness and the softness, the details of the veins that
carried away the blood.  I took hours to get to the crown.  Then as I
took the head into my mouth I could taste the wonderful juices that come
out of the snake's one eye.  As I worshiped my god, he filled my mouth
with the copious secretions of his perfect body.  I would have expected
that I would swallow but miraculously I did not nor did I choke.  His
powerful hands gripped my head and I let my hands fall to my side.  I
tried to reach my own erect shaft but I couldn't even though it ached in
its hardness for attention.

I kept my lips tight about his shaft as he slowly and gently moved his
huge godhood in and out of my small mouth.  Each time it went deeper.
Far deeper than any other had gone before, yet I did not gag nor choke.
The wonderful juice that had filled my mouth was now spread all over his
own godhood and coated my lips, mouth and throat.  He fucked my mouth
long and hard, fast and slow, shallow and deep.  I was thrilled beyond
words.  I hoped he would never climax so that he would never stop but
then he stiffened.

He BLASTED his seed into me while his head was just in my mouth.  I
could only taste his sweetness from what splashed back from my tonsils.
He spurted many times; each time from a bit deeper forcing everything
down to my welcoming stomach.  He held me with my lips on his pubes for
sometime.  I don't know how I kept breathing.  The wonderful stuff that
lubricated everything slowly drained from my mouth and down my gullet to
become part of me.

I was frozen with awe.  My cock was still aching for relief yet I could
not touch it.  What would my god do next. 

He withdrew his shaft and pressed my lips against his torso and again I
could feel his hard muscles.  I licked his six pack; I put my tongue
into his navel and continued upward to his pecs and nips as he guided
me.  I sucked his nips for a long time imagining that they produced some
wonderful nectar.

Eventually my lips touched his.  He kissed me.  He kissed me hard.  He
drove his tongue deep into me.  I swooned.  He caught me and carried me
over to the mats and laid me down.  Then I saw the reflection in the
mirrors.  He was kneeling between my legs and his massive rod was still
hard.  << He was going to fuck me.  He'll rip me apart and kill me. >> I
thought, << What a wonderful way to go. >> but that was not what was
going to happen.  He took his hand and rubbed the head of his shaft and
then he rubbed the head in my crack and particularly on my fuck hole.
He was coating everything with that same pre-come that filled my mouth
not so long ago.  I knew he was not going to hurt me.  He centered his
cock on my hole and as he pushed forward I pushed back.  Never before
had anyone entered me without pain even with tools half his size.  I was
his.  I thought that I could not be more his but I was wrong.

Slowly and forcefully he fucked me as he wished.  I was helpless under
him.  His strong arms held me still.  Everything felt so good -- his
chest on my back and his cock in my butt. He was even licking my neck.
Then I could feel his teeth and they sank deep into my neck as he thrust
and shot into me.  Then he was licking my neck.  The wound was healing
as his tongue touched it.  I could feel my own wetness on my belly.

He withdrew and I watched him walk out of the room.  His cock still
swinging proudly and his muscles, especially his gluts, flexed under his
skin.  I was entranced.

"Sir, I have to ask you to leave sir.  The shop and box office are
closed."

"SIR, I HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE SIR.  THE SHOP AND BOX OFFICE ARE
CLOSED."

Eventually, the security guard got through to me.  "I see you have your
ticket, Sir.  Please leave so I can lock up."

"Sure."  I said starting slowly to the door he was pointing to which was
one the only one still open.  The chill of the winter caused me to close
up my coat for protection after I slipped the all important ticket --
front row center for the ballet next month -- into my shirt pocket
nearest my heart.  More than I could really afford but I wanted to be as
close as possible to HIM when he danced.

As I walked down the steps to the street, I realized that my underwear
was soaked and sticky with my cooling come.  There was another poster
for the ballet on the outside wall.  This one was different -- my god's
great phallus was discreetly hidden in dancer's belt under his tights --
yet everything else was the same.

I stared at the poster as the wind swirled about me but that extra
special magic was gone.  I could not get back into my wet dream.  I
turned up my collar and headed to the station.  I knew what I would
dream of tonight and many nights after.



At long last came the performance.  I was waiting more than an hour
early not daring to risk any travel delays.  I stared at the poster once
again but my god was covered as always except that one special time.
Oh, how I had dreamed and re-dreamed that wonderful experience.  With
one exception, the rest of the audience was just a sea of bodies.  The
exception was a young man who had been the first one on line for a
standing room ticket.  His jacket proclaimed that he went to the High
School of Performing Arts.  I guessed he was eighteen but when I looked
at him all I saw was a young version of my own personal god; he even had
the same features.

The performance was super spectacular.  My god was beyond fantastic.  I
was elated and the last one up the aisle.  The young student was still
there apparently enthralled like myself.  "Magnificent!" I said.  Words
were not adequate.  He nodded still beaming.  "Join me for coffee?"

"Sure."

We talked dance for a long time.  At one point he put his hand on my
neck and his fingers slipped under my collar to rest precisely on the
spot where my god had marked me with his teeth.  Although the skin had
long since healed, inside there was a special sensitivity.  Our eyes
locked and I could feel his dominant aura.  He pulled me forward and
kissed me on the lips.  As he held me with just one arm, just one hand,
he forced his tongue into me.  My resistance was useless and then faded
quickly.  My body felt like I had been struck by lighting.  Inside my
head I heard his voice << Yes, you are the one.  You are mine now. >>

And then my own voice: << Yes, I am yours. >>  I could not believe what
I was thinking; I was twice his age and I had just surrendered to his
will not knowing anything about him except that he was another
god-in-training.  We continued to talk and when the cafe closed we went
back to my place to talk more.

At least that is what I thought we would do.  As soon as we got inside
he commanded: "Let me see you; strip."  Some how I never thought to
question or disobey him.  I was glad that I had kept in shape as I
quickly pulled off my clothes.  He lay on the bed as he watched me
intently.  As I stripped and exhibited myself I did not feel shame,
embarrassment nor humiliation but pride that I had been chosen to serve.
My cock stood tall and high to confirm all this.  When he was satisfied
with my display which was appropriate for being on the block, he pointed
to the floor at his feet.  Immediately, I dropped to my knees and
kowtowed.  It felt right and proper.  A god-in-training must be obeyed
and respected just as he would be in the future.

"Take off my shoes and socks."

I raised up a little and undid his laces and removed first his shoes and
then his socks lovingly.  He rewarded me by allowing me to kiss and lick
them.  Still on my knees, I unbuttoned his shirt and saw his beautiful
trim form as I removed it.  He was perfect.  I undid his belt and
unbuttoned his jeans and as he raised up pulled them down over his
muscular legs.  His dancer's belt bulged with his ample equipment; I
leaned forward and kissed it.  He tousled my hair and laughed.  The
bulge got larger.

"Take it off."

I reached up and grabbed the waistband and slid the belt off.  His cock
popped up, hard and proud, striking me in the face.  I kissed and licked
it.  He put his hand on my head and pressed me closer.  I licked and
kissed and sucked.  His pre-come was copious and tasty.  He slipped into
my throat and soon my lips were pressing on his pubic bone.

"This is a good start.  I'll have to teach you how to suck properly."
Again, he took hold of my head, but much more firmly and proceeded to
face-fuck me.  He sent his seed directly into my stomach.  I had never
before deep throated anyone and usually gagged even on much smaller
tools.  He was special.

I thought that I knew what he would do next.  I was wrong, for he
cuddled me for more than an hour and it felt better than ever before.
Then inside my head I heard him ask: << Are you ready? >>

The most important decision in my life and I made it instantly.  I laid
prone and he mounted me.  His cock provided the lubrication necessary
and soon he was fully in me.  I was elated for this was real.  I
surrendered completely with body, mind and spirit as his cock exploded
in my ass and his teeth entered my neck.  We fell asleep coupled and
woke up the same way.

We made tender love and I worshiped him.  Few are so fortunate to have a
personal god.  He told me that he was moving in.  All the obvious
questions and worries did not occur to me.

He returned later that day with his things and moved in.  I was thrilled
that we would be together but was worried about his family and support.
It turned out that his step-father was a monster and had thrown him out.
He gave me a lottery ticket that would more than take care of us for a
long time.  The monster could not go for money which was in my name.  In
public we would be uncle and nephew; it was already very clear what out
relationship would be in private.

A month later, when the lottery money started, we moved to a nicer
apartment.  I left my job to be able to tend to his needs.  After his
graduation we moved to New York so that he could study and pursue his
dance career.  I was his worshiping acolyte tending to my personal god's
every need.

Our anniversary was approaching.  I thought about my relationship with
my god.  We wanted for nothing material; his success as a dancer was the
object of our existence.  There was only one thing that I missed -- and
that was an orgasm from my own cock.  Oh, I had plenty of sex; of great
sex for he was constantly horny and I came frequently but only when he
fucked me.  To be with anyone else would be a betrayal and for me to
... well, that would be unthinkable and blasphemy.  It was then that I
realized that I had not jacked off for a year.  I found that I could not
even try.

After our anniversary dinner, we cuddled up together and he told me that
I was to decide if we should continue together or not but first I was to
tell him of anything that disturbed me.  I was sure that he already knew
as he always knew my mind so I explained.  In my head, I heard him
explain the three options: separate, lose the desire but that had some
very unpleasant side effects or continue with this permanent sacrifice.

"I freely accept whatever you decide for you are my very own god."  It
was total and complete bliss as I felt his teeth pressing on my neck.

The End

(C) Copyright A.I.L. April 25, 2002
Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)

See my stories at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/YLeeCoyote/www/
See Goldilocks stories at http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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