As you put your keys down and turn into the living room, you see him sitting on the couch, upright and still, chest slowly heaving. He is what you long for after a day at work.
He is large and robustly built. His shoulders are two sizes wider than yours, and his arms and thighs are solidly packed with generous curves, but are not in the slightest out of keeping with the rest of his form. On his sturdy midsection a happy trail connects his navel to the edge of his tight white briefs, the only piece of clothing he has on. Above his shoulders and traps is a flat tapered surface of skin which terminates his neck near the base and marks the top of his form. Without eyes, he notices you and flexes his arms confidently. He is welcoming you.
You put down your backpack and approach the body, while unbuttoning your shirt. You see him heave deeper.
âHeya, I missed you,â you say.
âIt is nice to be missed.â A deep bass, gentle yet clear, emanates from his chest. Voices are not a privilege restricted to those with a mouth and a throat.
âI need a hug.â You grin.
âCome.â The voice responds.
You put your hands on his shoulders, feeling the smooth firmness of them, and slide along them, pushing his arms towards you. He picks up your cue, and his plus-sized hands reach around your upper back, pulling you into him. His embrace is all-encompassing, and always warmer than you are. With him, you have gotten slowly used to having nothing facing you while hugging, and it is strangely liberating in a way, to enjoy the discrepancy between the intimate contact your body feels and the line of vision from your eyes. You lower your head, and nuzzle the flat surface â his neck stump â and you take a whiff of his scent while it gains a bit of moisture from your contact. Your hands travel up and down of his form, fingers pressing in turn taking in the solidity of the male body to satisfy your craving for touch.
âYou are literally the best body to hug,â you whisper, millimeters above his neck stump.
âThat is true. I am a body made with a thick layer of tissue of just the right consistency to provide maximum comfort.â His callused, plump hands squeeze your butt gently.
âAnd you are⊠not only that. You are just â not just. You are purely a body.â You adjust yourself, finding yourself poking against his belly.
âPurely,â he echoes. You reach down to find his briefs filled up and stretched with a growing stain slippery on touch.
âYes, purely.â You lean forward, pushing until the hefty body of muscle falls flat on the couch with a thud, still holding you tight. âIt means you can be appreciated purely physically. Your form dictates that you are unshakably honest, trustworthy, and bare in your pure erotic glory.â You gulp after resavouring what you just said.
The huge arms push down the now half-drenched briefs, tiny in comparison to his trunk-like thighs, emancipating his blushing and staunchly upward pointing member, with a girth and size congruent with his form. You take the rest of your clothes off.
âYou are not subject to the obligations and constraints that apply to us.â You continue, frotting your member against his. âYou are free, unrestrained and autonomous from a head.â
âI am⊠free.â His voice is clear and booming, yet there is a hint of uncertainty. You are not sure if he is just repeating, or finds it hard to believe.
You grab on his veiny erection, and pull it away from the centre as the meat peels off the crotch alongside the heavy drooping balls, leaving a circular hairless spot with a wrinkled central orifice. You show his pre-cum dripping manhood in front of his now deeply heaving chest, waving it, then guide it to his hand which naturally grasps on it.
âYou are also capable of much more physical liberty than I am, that you use to your advantage. That too symbolises that freedom.â You start to rub your cock against his newly neutered crotch. He places his detached rod on his cleavage, and pulls you in again, sandwiching it between your and his chests as the rod glistens itself with a constant ooze of translucent sap.
He grows even more feverish, and contractions spread upwards through his pecs as his back perspires.
âI have not thought about that.â His chest vibrates against yours.
âDoes that arouse you?â You ask.
A bout of pre-cum spurts out from his rod, landing on his neck and drips down across his neck stump onto the couch.
âI guess that answers the question.â You cannot help but grin. âYour nature has never stopped you from being expressive. Your body language is rich.â
âI observe your body language too. Your face deceives too often.â He gently pushes you towards the end of the couch, and slides your thighs towards the middle, before raising both of his legs in the air, revealing his luscious hole. It is already moist with his self-produced fluids.
âExactly,â you reply. âThis genuineness is rare, but it can be found in you.â
âBecause I am purely a body.â He grabs his detached manhood, still rock hard with balls dangling. âBare, and erotic.â His other hand feels around his neck stump, until one, then two of his fingers sink into it, through an opening you cannot see from this angle.
You guide his mountainous calves to rest on your shoulders, aim your tool at his periodically contracting hole, and land your gaze on his sweat-covered chest. Your brows furrow. âLook. I need to ask you this.â You look down on your penis, pensive, then back up. âI hope that, despite your⊠configuration, you have never felt⊠coerced or⊠subjugated.â
âI donât know if I am capable of feeling coerced.â His sphincter dilates slightly, as a drop of extra lubricant escapes it. âI experience, but my experiences have never been negative. Maybe you have been gentle. You read my movements, and you ask. Even if I am just a headless body.â
You slowly enter, as a passage of warmth opens and envelops your most sensitive part. You hear a deep moan as his torso curls and tense, and vague demarcations start lining his otherwise smooth abdomen. His bicep balloons as his arm eagerly forces his thick rod into his own neck stump, impaling himself as it sinks in slowly. His heaving grows irregular and interrupted.
âI avoided the word âjustâ. It implies you are imperfect, or lacking. You are not lacking a⊠head.â You reason as you penetrate him. âYou⊠your stump is flat, yes, to acknowledge the conspicuous absence, but it is also skin-covered, and tapered naturally. You are designed to be like this, whole and complete. Powerful, and⊠beautiful.â
Spasms ripple through him, and his neck stump flexes forwards, showing you his self-penetration. His veined manhood slides out on its own like a piston, until it pops off, swinging forth drops of white fluid before landing itself on the couch. More of his viscous fluid now churns out from the contracting centre orifice of the neck stump, like the hot filling of a bun. He has filled himself with his own seed, and it is a feat only an entity like him can possibly pull off.
You reach forward, fumbling on his full and round pecs, as you accelerate. He picks up one of your hands and wraps it in his larger one. The liquefying, warm touch sends tingles up your arm.
âCome for me.â A deep voice commands.
You let out a whimper and your legs feel like jelly. You fill him, from the other end.
This is the longest one in a long time.
He raises his two arms, and flexes them.
âI hope I have answered your question about feeling subjugated.â He remarks.
âYou are majestic.â You manage three words between breaths.
âWorship this body of pure erotic glory in the shower.â He reaches behind his back, and grabs his now flaccid, artificial cum-covered detached dong.
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