This is a draft of an excerpt from the upcoming second in the Glamorgan Progeny series. Let me know what you think in the comments section. Thanks for reading!
I was sitting on
the wicker chair with a few papers, books, and mobile scattered across the
matching coffee table. It was a damp,
early winter day and I could sense the greenhouse’s residents breathing and
talking to one another – I am psychically sensitive like that. I had been working on a drash, a
biblical interpretation, to justify critical points in my article for Tikkun
magazine. I am Desmond Mac Innes-Reese,
1st Viscount of Glamorgan.
Close friends call me Deetz. I am
a rabbi over a small but growing Welsh congregation that was gaining some
international statue because of its unapologetically progressive politics. We were a welcoming space for Jewish misfits
ostracized by more traditional settings.
I stood up,
stretched, and sighed at my lack of progress in light of the lateness of the
day. The moon was nice though and I
found myself missing my husband of six years, Angus Reese, the 12th
Earl of Glamorgan. He is an MP
representing Cardiff in the House of Commons and currently away on diplomatic
business. He's been gone for two
weeks. The Crown often presses him into
secret diplomatic service because of his grasps of multiple languages – a big
advantage during high stakes negotiations.
He wasn’t due back until tomorrow.
We are quite ‘close’ and I’ve been missing the feel of his body against
mine. If asked, Angus would claim he
wasn’t gay but then again, neither am I.
I walked over to
the samovar to get some more tea, reckoning on a few more minutes of work
before I went to bed. Sipping at the hot
brew, I looked out to the rest of the garden, bits of snow dusting the bushes
which surrounded the ancestral estate.
Remodelling of the mansion was nearly over and our entire clan of
reprobates had settled throughout it. We
were related by deeds and blood, having saved one another’s lives more times
than we cared to remember and in ways 007 wouldn’t have dreamed of. But that’s another story . . .
I started back to
my seat when I felt a rustling behind me.
I turned around and Mr Handsome appeared like someone teleporting from Blake’s
7 Liberator. More likely he flew our
jumbo, private jet. “Oi! You’re home early!” Ah, finally a legitimate excuse to stop
working. And what an excuse Angus
was. He still looked like a model off
the cover of an Arthurian romance novel - long-hair, beard, and all. Whereas he is buff, I’m slight and tight,
like Bruce Lee’s brother from another mother.
We both have random Oriental and Welsh tattoos all over our bodies, only
I have a tree of life brand that lights up when I get emotional. Luckily I was no longer in puberty where
burning a hole in my shirt was embarrassingly commonplace. “Things must have gone well, eh?”
“Right,” he said
in a low growl. He came into the
light. I noted how his suit was wrinkled
and his hair was untied. “I’ve crossed
three datelines to get to you.” He
looked a bit wild, his grey-green eyes were dark, glaring at me with a smouldering
intensity. He placed his suitcase on a
nearby chair unceremoniously and walked to the middle of the room, hands behind
his back. “Come here.” I looked at him incredulously. “Now.”
I put down my cup
and did what I was told – I’m an obedient sub, particularly when I want
something. His hands all over me sounded
like an appropriate ask. I walked to him
with some urgency but a bit of caution.
We usually keep our play away from the family (although they still
complain that we are noisy!) and I wasn’t sure what he was up to. Once I got close, his hands came out and he
slapped handcuffs on my wrists – the hard snap of metal against metal confirmed
that these weren’t some toy from an online sex shop. Angus didn’t play like that . . . for him sex
was serious business.
“Your grace?”
Angus lifted my
hands by the chain that held the cuffs together, stretching my arms above my
head. He used his chest to shove me
against the entrance’s door hinge. He
slipped these links over a hook attached just above, which contorted my body
such that my chest and pelvis pressed forward in a concave manner. He stroked my caged cock. “Have you been good? Have you controlled yourself while I’ve been
gone?” Right, it was going to be one of
those nights. Sweet.
He took a small
step back, staring at me like I was a classic Greek sculpture just
completed. He smiled at a job well
done. Before leaving for Dubai, he
instructed me to not to touch my cock until he returned. I had obeyed, sorta; Afterall he said nothing
about anal stimulation.” For seven
straight days, all I’ve thought of is of you trapped in rapture,” Angus said
leering at my round, buff ass. “I’m
going to make your soul quiver, Mate.
Your mouth is going to beg me to stop but your body,” he sucked in air,
“. . . your body will betray you.” He reached out and touched my chest. His fingertips felt like little
defibrillators shocking my already overwhelmed heart. Through my cotton shirt, he scrapped my left
nipple ever so slightly then watched my face while he twisted back and forth. Was he going to bite my neck soon? I really love that vampire shit.
Toni, my best
friend of nearly 10 years and our baby momma, entered the room waddling
appropriately for a woman 5 months pregnant with twins, our twins – me and
Angus’s. She was a coco princess –
daughter of an Israeli diplomat and a Yoruba doctor. Until now, we were nothing more than mates,
but not for lack of trying on my part some time back when we both lived in
Chicago. When she visited Angus and me in
Tel Aviv 5-months back, . . . well, . . . we all were having a good time after Toni
and I won an amateur dance competition (we took 1st place). Yeah, it’s complicated.
Angus didn’t take
his eyes off of me. “Why hello. I was just about to have my way with this
one. Get your camera.” To keep from dying from boredom while
sentenced to bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy, Toni had started
taking pictures of the garden. What she
came back with was stunning. Trained as
a clinical psychologist, she had no idea of this talent. She was set to do her first gallery opening a
few months after the babies would be born.
“I imagine that you’ll have some interesting pictures before the end of
the night.” Toni giggled and bounced out
of the room like a kangaroo with a purpose.
With all those delicious curves, the hippie-style summer dress she was
wearing didn’t have a chance.
Yeah, I’m that
kinda bisexual – the one all your gay and straight friends warned you
against. I’m unapologetically greedy and
sexually apolitical. I equally reject
bedroom critiques from both the left and right.
I believe in consent all the way around, but I do like my intimacy with
a bit of an edge, as this current scene suggests. I am deeply in love with my husband. To hear his grandmother, Lady Nora, the bond
between us was set by some Druid spell cast during the reign of Queen
Victoria. I'm not sure I believe that
but I do know that my life is better with him than without him. However, had things turned out differently –
if I’d never returned to Wales as I promised my father I wouldn’t – I would
have tried harder to convince Toni it could work. But she wouldn’t have me and G-d had other
plans. Although, things have turned out
well for Toni. She is aromantic –
someone who does not experience romantic feelings – but has always wanted
children. Her “unexpected” pregnancy was
a perfect solution for us as well as. As
a male couple, we avoided ‘rent-a-womb’ or ‘baby farming’ (both of which gross me
out!) choice many gay folk have to make when they wanted kiddos who shared
their genetic make-up. As you’d imagine
and although he wouldn’t admit to it, monarchist inside of Angus wanted this
very much. And he liked Toni – obviously
a lot. Toni was the randiest person I’ve
ever met next to Angus. It may be sexist
and outside some liberal code of conduct, but from where I was hanging, a win-win for all involved.
Angus was on fire
but not so much so that he would parade me around the manor in handcuffs. My brother-in-law wouldn’t mind but my sister
would kill me if she had to explain to my 8-year old niece why her Uncle Deetz
was being arrested by her Uncle Angus.
He unhooked my hands and massaged my arms as he put them down and
released my wrists. I started to gather
up my papers when he ordered me to “leave it.”
So, I followed him up the winding stairs to our bedroom. Before going inside, I turned on the sound
cancelling machine sitting on a small table by the door. That little device simultaneously muffled
moans and pleadings while ‘ocean tides’ warned off anyone who thought to
interrupt. I don’t think its
toddler-proof but such considerations could be saved for later.
The open curtains
let moonlight illuminate the bedroom after passing floor-to-ceiling bay
windows. The furniture was rather austere
for someone so rich. Besides an
entertainment centre (that was recommended by Martin Scorsese, a family friend
of Angus’s father), a king plus size bed with matching side tables, and an armoire
- for sex toy incidentals – the space was plainer than a bedroom at a frat
house. “Spotify, Deetz’s playlist #5,” I
said aloud as I started to undress. Angus
stood next to me and watched, occasionally caressing me with his fingertips. It was mindful, Tantric touch - my left
shoulder blade when I bent over to untie my trainers, my belly while I took off
my top, my right hip after I got my sweats off – as if he wanted to bond with
my whole body. I just left my discount
rack from the Salvation Army wardrobe on the floor. Once I was naked, I retrieved the valet stand
from the walk-in closet and began to undress him like a perfect valet from an
episode of Downton Abbey. He
stopped touching me to stare like that Big, Bad Wolf sort of way, barely
containing his need to eat me.
“What essentials
do I need, your Grace?” I asked, a noticeable waver in my voice. I turned away to hang his suit jacket, pants,
and tie.
“Just these, for
the moment,” he replied, holding up the handcuffs. He sat on the bed so I could remove his socks
and shoes. Kneeling before him, I
glanced up to notice he wasn’t erect. The
only hint of his arousal was the thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Once I was done, I let him cuff me
again. “Assume the position,” he
ordered. I moved to the middle of the
bed, leaned against the headboard then scooted down and raised my arms. He attached the cuffs to an overhead hook.
Angus grabbed
something from the dresser drawer then answered the quiet knock at the
door. It was Toni. Who knew Victoria’s Secret had a maternity
section? The flowing, low cut, light
pink gown was so sheer it hardly passed as clothing. I hadn’t seen her naked since we all slept
together in Israel and, I had to admit since she'd come to stay with us, I'd
spent many a shower time wondering . . . well, you know what I mean. She sat on the other side of me, “We need to
chat first.”
He secured the red
ball gag in my mouth with a brown leather strap. "Right," Angus responded,
"What are your terms?"
“Darlin,” she
countered, “it’s not like this is some business negotiation!”
"I take my
love and family life more seriously than I do my venture capitalism," he
took a vape pen from the bowl on a nearby nightstand. He looked a hit, letting the smoke out slowly
as if considering his next words carefully.
“The latter is my reputation while the former is my legacy. I’m titled, an old-fashioned monarchist. What do you expect?” He shrugged and took another hit.
Toni sat down on
the other side of me while quietly chuckling.
“Yeah, Deetz told me.” She had
her camera on her lap and absent-mindedly played with the few nobs that
existed. “Are you mad that I’m
pregnant?”
“Do you mean do I
forgive you for stealing and running off with my sperm?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t ever lie to
me or Deetz again,” he said plainly.
Angus took a pin knife and apple from the nightstand. “So far things seem to be working out.”
I could sense her
initial irritation. She wasn’t used to
being spoken to thusly, particularly by a white man. I suspect, however, after a bit more thought,
she realized he had a point. “So, how do
you want to do this?”
He put the third
slice in his mouth then put the remaining apple back on the side table. He removed my ball gag and put his fingers in
my mouth. One at a time, I sucked each
one clean then lick the drippings left on his palm. Angus nodded when he felt the job was
complete and reapplied the ball gag. He
looked at Toni and said, “I want to marry you.”
“Ah, sure but you
two are already married.”
He reached for a
thin stack of legal looking documents from his suit breast pocket. “I believe that in the Yoruba culture, highly
born women often have more than one husband.
We have Druid ancestry where polyamory is also common amongst
royalty.” He handed her the papers.
She scanned them,
occasionally stopping at spots and gasping.
Finally, she said, "You're making me and the children part of the
clan? I'm going to be Lady Toni?"
“It’s not as
glamorous as it sounds but it does make inheritance simpler and end any attempt
by some of my wayward, avaricious cousins from fighting you should something
happen to me. Deetz is protected by
marrying me civilly.” He chewed piece of
apple then said, “Nationally there’ll be controversy. But, believe me, when the locales find out
I’ve married you in a traditional handfasting ceremony, well, let's just say
there is a lot of legitimate neopaganism going on and my family has . . . connections.
No Welsh person would touch you
without fears of nasty magic attacking them in the night." He got up and went to the fridge. He took out the canister containing his
favourite mix – a Deetztini - an old family recipe from another story. He took a chilled martini glass from the
electric cold case on the wet bar and poured himself a drink. “Don’t read it now. Give it to your attorney.”
“Angus! Are you kidding? Darlin’, a handsome prince and his cute
bestie fuck buddy want to make me a rich princess – what’s so hard about that?”
“You may have
terms,” he answered as he returned to sit on the bed.
Toni repositioned,
rubbing on the babies to get them off her organs. “As-a-matter-of-fact, I do.” She patted my chest as if getting the
attention of a kid off his ADHD meds. “I
don’t want to be chasing after baby daddies at the latest Sense 8
orgy. Children don’t need your money;
they need your time. Run all the
parliaments and synagogues you like but your free time is spent at home.”
“You want fidelity
from us both. Fine. What else?”
“I want to keep my
own room. I need my privacy. I like to fuck so we maybe will do this more
often and you two are a gas to hang with.
But I have no desire to insert myself into your romance – G-d bless you
for it. Through you two, our kids will
learn about that kind of love.”
“Agreed. What else?”
She jabbed me
again – geeze, doesn’t a sub get a say?
“What about him? He’s still in
love with me.”
“He may love you,
but he craves me.” Angus put the drink
on the side table and sat close to my lower pelvis. “Watch this.”
He flipped the latch at the wrist and removed the Natural Touch 3000,
his left hand, a prosthesis after getting it cut off during a previous mission. It led him to start his foundation, to help
the millions of people who lost limbs due to war or disease but have no
resources for artificial rehabilitation.
He wore this model whenever he knew he would be attending multiple
meetings. He replaced it with a shiny
plastic hand that had several buttons in the knuckles. He clicked a few and held up the Lite Touch
105 so Toni could see the small bristles on the tips. He motioned her to hold out her hand. When she did, he tapped on the knuckle of the
middle finger again then gently pressed that finger against her palm. She squealed and snatched her hand back. He then said, “Watch this.”
A sound that was
more pathetic coming from behind a ball gag, meant to say, “Don’t, Sir!” He
looked at me and just grinned slyly. “We
discussed this, Deetz. Are you
afraid?” I closed my eyes. “You shouldn’t be. I mean if we are going to do this, we have to
be open about . . . everything, now don’t we?”
Asshole. Ah, well, considering
what he was about to do, I shouldn’t give him any ideas.
Angus started at
my ankles, drawing small, measured circles.
The tiny brushes, along with the light caress gave off intermittent, low
voltage shocks. I saw Toni lean over to
watch more closely. With each turn, he
was slowly moving up the side of my right leg.
Initially, it was like a team of ants marching in formation. It took a number of cleansing breaths until
the ticklishness died down and I was no longer distracted from the feeling I
was falling into oblivion. Before I
closed my eyes, I saw Toni take a picture of my quivering thigh. “Okay,” I thought to myself, “I’ll have
something to say about THAT when . . . when I . . .” I think that moan was loud and quite
real. “Right,” my mind continued, “as
long as he doesn’t . . . start . . .oh well, . . . he already did.” My hubby was a bit of an amateur
linguist. He spoke 15 languages fluently
and could damn you to hell in at least 10 others. When we made love, he’d talk to me in
anything from French to Farsi. Shit,
they all sounded sexy when he said it.
Tonight, Angus started with Portuguese. “Levantando, implorando em meus braços é
como você deve sempre ser. Toni precisa conhecer sua verdadeira natureza, meu
amor (Heaving, pleading in my arms is how you should always be. Toni needs to know your true nature, my
love)?” I began to push against his hand
which made him slow down to draw things out to his conclusion point. “Ela vai ver e te querer mais, assim como
eu (She’ll see it and want you more, just as I do).”
Each of his
circles left a trail of sweat bubbling on the surface of my skin as if every
nerve ending he’d past had cum. As
Toni’s Nikon D850 made clicking sounds like the device’s grandmother, Angus rolled
me on my side and lay next to me close as he continued his devious torture on
my torso. He pressed his hardened dick
against my ass. This stirred my hole,
naturally plumping in hopes his finger would find its way down there. He must have felt my arousal shifting because
he pinched my nipple then said in German, “Lass es; Ich leite deinen Orgasmus!
(Leave it; I direct your orgasm)!” He
returned to my chest, making his swirls again and tantalizing my senses. I kept cheating though, subtly pressing my
bum into him and letting the shivering bounce me against his penis.
And bloody hell, my
skin was radiant. I felt like I could
electrify a mid-size city. Everything
was bubbling or boiling, moist or cooled dry by the air. The electric brand on my upper back was
shaped like an oak tree. The branding
was a present from my Druid mother and Orthodox Jewish father. It exploded tiny fireworks with sparks that
harmlessly bounced off skin and bedding alike like Fourth of July in Barbie’s
block party. The ceremony, when I was a
small child, was the only thing my parents ever agreed on. Now it was shooting off like a suffocated
nuclear explosions, creating that sensations that rolled up and down my body as
Angus’s fingers moved around each spot.
I desperately wanted a release.
This was just too much. Through
the gag, I tried to say, “Please”.
“Méritez-vous
la libération (Do you deserve release)?”
“Please!”
He turned me back
toward him. I barely noticed the
cramping in my shoulders from my arms hanging for so long. He instructed Toni to, “Remove the gag. Let me show you something.” Then he scooted down some more, wrapped his
left arm around my waist, and resumed his circular motions at the centre base
of my back. He moved me closer. Angus kissed me, lips soft with a full
tongue. He was controlling himself,
making sure I came first by letting the motion of his mouth do the work. He loves kissing me and says I’m the
best. He’s probably lying but who cares
as. I’ll wear those jeans on spec.
He abruptly
stopped and drew back to look at me. I
opened my eyes. I blushed in reaction to
the soft, loving look like I was the centre of his universe. Then he leaned into my ear, feather
flickering his tongue against my earlobe before he said in English, “Now!” My body’s rollercoaster collapsed the
sensations into a black hole in my belly.
When I could take no more in, the sensations exploded a thousand stars
into every organ, muscle, and nerve in my body.
From my mouth came a sound I didn’t recognize – somewhere between a
squeal and a groan. I couldn’t control
my shaking. But, he held me throughout,
whispering in French “Oh mon amour! Votre extase est ma joie (Oh my love!
Your ecstasy is my joy)”. The last thing
I remember was Angus removing the cuffs while instructing Toni on the steps for
removing my cock cage.
I woke up sometime
later with my wrists and dick washed and massaged with a light, highly absorbent
sandalwood oil. I had slept between them
– Angus’s thighs against my crack and Toni’s ass near my mouth. The two were watching Buster Keaton’s 1928
silent movie, The General, on Turner Classic Movies-UK, chuckling at one
of the original geniuses of slapstick comedy.
“Hey,” I announce tentatively while trying to remember how to sit
up. Once I was level with them, they
didn’t seem to give me much notice. I
felt awkward that they weren’t feeling awkward.
“Ah, guys . . . don’t you think we should talk some more? I mean, I didn’t really have a chance to
weigh in on this . . . arrangement.”
“Shhh!” replied
Toni. “Argh! Wait ‘til this is over.” She looked at Angus and asked, “Is he always
like this after sex?”
“My husband has
never known a situation he can’t deconstruct,” Angus shrugged
“Ah, alias this is
quite true,” she said before pausing the film.
“But he does have a point.” Toni
turned to me like a parent waiting for his kid to explain the missing
cookies. “Okay Moses, what do you want
to add to the tablets?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well,” I said drawing the word out in hopes
of stalling for time, “We should consider the kids – how are they going to
explain two daddies and a mommy?”
“The same way we
will help them explain their mixed-race heritage – ‘a gift from my parents I
decided to accept on a month to month lease’,” Angus said nonchalantly. “At least they’ll know what the bullies are
going to target so they can be prepared.”
“Why are you so
concerned about how you looked just now?” Toni was about to nail me – the
problem of having an expert mental health diagnostician sitting unclad next to
you. “Sweetie, remember I was the one
who pulled your sorry drunk ass out of gangbangs and torture rooms! You’d be screaming in pain then telling me –
no, . . . slurring, that you didn’t need rescue. What I just saw was nothing like that and I’m
glad for it. I figure if anybody is
deserving of love, it’s you. You’re a
pain in the ass but you’re a good person.”
She grabbed a tablet from atop nearby side drawer, swiped then handed it
to me. “And don’t worry. I didn’t shoot anything identifying but I
think I captured the essence of the moment.” She had gotten an extreme close-up of my skin
responding to Angus’s touch. You could
see the pores expand, release sweat, then collapse while the surrounding skin
shuddered. She had turned it into a gif. “It will make a nice cover for an advert of
the next showing, eh?!”
Wasn’t sure how to
take all that. Meanwhile, Angus leaned
back with his hands behind his head.
"Will you two get on with it?
I want to get a quick workout in before I go to sleep
tonight." He closed his eyes likely
anticipating immediate compliance.
I looked down at
my hands. “I don’t want to hurt you,
bother the babies.”
She looked at me
kindly. Toni pulled herself up and over
to straddle my thighs. She gathered my
partially limp dick in her hand, massaging the base enticingly. “How is this feeling after being locked up
for so long? Will it be able to find my
spot, huh?”
Her palms were smooth
and supple – like her pussy without the juices.
I smiled at her and said, “I think I can find it.” I unbuttoned the front of her gown and opened
it up. She was beautiful, her breast
growing swollen with the round belly below.
“I know,” she said
in an unusual moment of vulnerability, “I look like a beached whale.”
I lifted her by
her hips, all 59kgs, 1.5m of her and inserted my hungry cock. "If so, you are the most beautiful whale
I've ever seen." I wasn't lying for
the sake of her ego – she was lovely. I
felt strangely honoured to make love to her.
Was I saying, “thank you for rescuing Angus and I from the uncertainty
of a surrogate or potential rejection by an adoption agency”? But once I found her spot – right-side, low
before you get to the cervix – and heard her moan, I changed to tight circular
motion. Her eyes closed tight, her twat
clinching my dick like a vice, I found the place inside my soul where I hid my
love for her from so long ago.
Scratching her itch, somehow let me tap into those feelings safely but
would I (did I have to) put them back once this was over? That didn’t matter either as I was too far
gone to stop anyway.
Out of the corner
of my eye, I saw Angus. He had been
watching for a while but was now looking at his tablet, seemingly absorbed by
what he was looking at. But Toni
regained my attention when she began twisting my nipples. Nice. I pulled back a bit to make sure she had her
“Big O” before me – it’s only polite since my dick is so sensitive, it'll
explode if I see a granny in a housecoat.
When she climaxed, she cried out, I was reminded how I rarely hear her
say my full name. "Oh
Desmond!" was never so hot. My dick
let go as I felt her thighs finally calm.
She got off my stick then readjusted her gown as if she was restoring
propriety. She looked down at me and
leaned over to kiss my forehead.
"You're sweet, just so stupidly sweet." The next thing I knew, she was up and putting
her flip flops on.
“Where are you
going?” Was I really thinking an
aromantic person would want to cuddle after sex?
“Back to my room,”
she said looking back at me as she exited.
“I think you understand.” She
blew a kiss at Angus then left.
Initially taken
aback too, Angus adjusted his position in the bed. “She was honest.”
“Yes,” I said,
acquiescing to the new reality. “Well,
how can I be of service to you, your Grace?”
I kissed his ear, turning my lascivious attention toward him.
But he waved me
off. “Not now,” he responded
frowning.
I was somewhat
hurt and my ass was very disappointed.
“What’s wrong?”
He sighed and
rested the tablet in his lap. “If I shag
you now, it will turn into some reclaiming, as if you’re fucking her took a
piece from the two of us, well, . . . from me.”
"You're jealous? What about what you said – that I craved
you? After all this time, you worry
about Toni?"
“I read that
jealousy is common in poly relationships,” he shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m jealous or what exactly
I’m jealous about, just that the feeling is there.” I feigned a pout. “Meanwhile, I don’t think having sex now is
appropriate. I don’t need to claim my
ownership over you, which is what such fucking would become.”
“How did you get
to be so emotionally intelligent?”
“Being married to
a clairescent, to you, I guess.”
I teased him with
a firmer pout, poking that bottom lip like a little girl asking for ice
cream. “Don’t give me that!” he
grumbled. But eventually, he gave in a
little. “Fine! Let me finish this email response and we’ll
watch a movie.” I smiled at my win and
reached for the remote. “But can we
watch something with a copywrite AFTER 1980?”
1981’s Body
Heat - that ought to get him out of his feelings.
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