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By *rgeo OP Man
1 week ago
WOLVERHAMPTON |
Whether Toby had been making love to Dean, to God or to just another version of himself was never going to be clear, no matter how many tales were told or philosophical articles written. What mattered was the affection generated and the fun that they shared. Anything else was irrelevant. Whether it was three minds, two minds or one mind turned in upon itself was unimportant.
“Joy and compassion are out of our control, but fun is not,” explained Toby to his god son, Steve.
Steve asked, “Can you elaborate?”
“Fun has the same root as ‘fond’ - and it is there in the word ‘fundamental’ too,” wrote Toby.
“But why is fun not out of our control?” queried Steve.
“When you are literally fond of everyone, no exceptions, then life must be tremendous fun, mustn’t it?” replied Toby. Then it went quiet between them.
Toby had great fun screwing Dean, holding on to him as he leaned across the sofa in God’s sitting room, allowing the sexual pressure to build and ebb several times before giving in to it and releasing the pent-up frustrations of the last few days into the body of the younger man. Toby had collapsed on top of him and both men fell into the soft fabric of the sofa. Toby curled up into a ball and waited as the bodily shape of Dean disappeared and God re-materialised.
God picked up the collection of Toby’s clothes that were scattered around the room and brought them over to him.
“Bet you’re hungry after that,” said God. “I know I am. I could eat a fucking horse.”
“Sorry,” said Toby, sniffily, “I’m a vegetarian.”
“Clever arse,” replied God. “Anyway, I’ve got very little in.”
God stood still in the middle of the room and looked thoughtful for a few seconds. He went over to the fireplace and switched on the small electric fire which stood in the grate. Slowly, the bars of the fire began to glow bright red.
“Back in a second,” he said to Toby, who was getting dressed.
He walked out of the sitting room and into the kitchen. Toby straightened and patted himself, sitting down on the sofa to put back on his socks.
Soon, God re-emerged with another tray of tea things, on which also sat a butter dish and a plate of English crumpets. He put the tray down on the coffee table, picked up the plate of crumpets and bent down by the fireplace. He then used a small extendable brass toasting fork to prepare their snack, three crumpets each, toasted by hand in front of the glowing bars of the electric fire.
“Very 1950s,” said Toby, remembering similar scenes from his own childhood.
“1850s, actually, this,” said God, raising the fork in the air, with a provocative gesture.
“Fork me,” said Toby.
“I shall,” said God, “Next time.”
Toby smiled and blushed a little, squirming at the thought.
Once one has had sex with God, everything else does kind of pale into insignificance. Toby was lucky. For him it was a regular occurrence. He didn’t really understand why it happened or what he himself had done, if anything, to instigate the affair. The whole thing was a vast puzzle and there were just as many painful parts to it as there were pleasurable. Toby enjoyed every aspect of God’s sexuality, which ranged from the totally submissive to the totally dominant. Usually, God preferred to play the playfully cruel and brutally dominant role of master, which always turned Toby to jelly. This too was Toby’s preferred role in bed, the utterly submissive. But as he got deeper into the many acts of submission, Toby found a counter energy building that allowed him access to his own darker and crueller side. Then they swapped roles, usually with God taking on the form of a much younger and much more helpless male personality on which Toby could vent his primeval rages and desires with wild abandon. Sometimes Toby was shocked by how far God would permit themselves to go with this. Fortunately, it remained private to them and created a bond between them that perhaps few beings would ever know.
“By the way, who told you to take off your collar?” asked God, standing over Toby with a plate of freshly buttered crumpets.
“Huh?” grunted Toby.
God moved the plate from his right hand to his left and gave Toby a smack across the face.
“What the hell!” said a startled and angry Toby.
God stared down viciously at the man on the sofa. Toby stared back at him defiantly.
“Test!” said God. “I said there’d be a test.”
“What the fuck are you on about!” Toby was genuinely at a loss to comprehend what was happening.
“Good God!” said God, feeling less good than God had felt in years. “You took off your collar! You put it on me!”
“But… But…” spluttered Toby. “Dean! It was Dean!”
“Dean!” shouted God. “Dean? The man that got away? There is no Dean, you stupid cunt!”
Toby shook his head, not wanting to hear any of this. He sat as far back in the chair as he could, not knowing what might happen next.
What happened next was that God calmed right down. He had that ability. He could move from sublime rage to infinite compassion in the blink of an eye. This, however, was not yet quite infinite compassion.
“You see it now, don’t you?” said God softly.
“Yes,” whimpered Toby, feeling more foolish and exposed than he had ever felt before.
God breathed out a long sigh. “Oh, Toby!” he murmured, “I do love you so.” He reached over and stroked the man’s face tenderly, fondly.
“I’m so… I’m so…” Toby was at a loss. If he now apologised to God, that would make things ten times worse. “I’m so stupid!” he said, landing on a better alternative word.
“Like all humans, yes,” agreed God. “Here, hold this.” He offered the plate of crumpets to Toby. “I’ve just realised what your punishment must be.”
God raised the hem of his gown, exposed his penis, wanked it for about two minutes and then shot a load of sticky cum across the plate of crumpets.
“Tuck in!” he said. “Bon appetit!”
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