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2020 Lusty Lit Contest Entry: Riding the Bull of Heaven

Statue of a Greek god lounging and holding a cornucopia of fruit in one arm
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2020 Lusty Lit Contest Entry: Riding the Bull of Heaven

Jack hadn’t come in two weeks and he wasn’t sure he could last another day. He hadn’t meant for it to be this long. It started after one of those sex dreams that you wake from all hot, hungry, and wet. It wasn’t his normal dream of guys in the locker room at his local gym. This dream was different; this dream was divine. In this dream, he saw what he thought one of those ancient Greek gods would look like. A golden-haired Adonis, naked except a crown of ivy and vine riding atop a white bull. 

Jack liked to recall the dream, a daily almost devotional practice now. One that made him tremble as his breath would catch recalling what the god said. The god’s voice was low and rumbled like thunder. Jack could feel that thunder rolling in the deep pit of his being. His hips would begin to move as if remembering some ancient song. Some forgotten space in the midst of the mundane; the thankless 9-5, the obligations, the 1000s of trivial things that pulled his attention away from himself, from the simple pleasure of the self.

'Would you come with me? Would you ride the great bull of heaven and liberate yourself from the world? Withhold until the moon is full then come as a god on the throne of the bull'. These were the words of the ivy and vine crowned god. These were the words that made Jack wet. Every day, when his thoughts drifted to the dream, he’d feel the start of drops flowing into long thick ropes of precum. He’d trace the tip of his hard cock with his thumb and forefinger, eager to grasp with both hands and start the steady strokes needed to release the build-up of tension. He could feel his prostate swell, like a small rose bursting into bloom. There was an ache inside of him, not just his ass, not just the tight layer of muscles around his hole, but deeper. That place where the god’s words flutter and fill with a burning thirst, a need. Just as his hands would begin their dance along his long, thick cock, he remembered he promised. He promised the god he’d wait until the moon was full and come as a god on the throne, liberating himself from the daily chains that weighed him down. His hands would fall down and clench his thighs, rubbing his thick legs, waiting for the moon to fill.

Day and night seemed to stretch into an eternity. Everyday Jack could feel himself fill, overflowing. The precum seemed to flow endlessly. Hands stayed clenched on his thighs. Each day so easily he could just let go. He kept himself busy by planning the night of the full moon. He pulled the chest from under his bed, a large dark old ornate chest with rusted hinges that looked out of place in his minimal room of pale cheap wood. The chest was more than a box of sex toys and games. It was a box of possibilities, of solo adventures and games for two or more. Dildos with souls, prostate toys with personalities, ropes that whispered as they caressed the wrists and ankles. It was trusty ‘Brent’ that Jack chose for tonight. ‘Brent’, his biggest dildo, captured the soul of a man that wanted more in the world. ‘Brent’ would be the Bull mounted on the Pulse, the soft saddle that Jack would ride hard into the night. 

The full moon began to rise. Jack stared at ‘Brent’ and squeezed a handful of lube between his hands. His dick was still leaking, long thick ropes falling to the earth. Mixing the precum and lube together, he began to anoint ‘Brent’ and slipped the base into the soft-lined Pulse mount. Jack could hear the wind begin to howl as the clouds gathered. Thunder began to whisper in the distance. Jack slowly began to drop his hips, holding the edge of the Pulse with one hand as he aligned the dildo with the other. The tip of the dildo touched Jack’s asshole and his whole body shook. The thunder was getting closer. Jack closed his eyes and breathed out, pushing his asshole out against ‘Brent’, flexing his weight against the Pulse. In that space between breaths, he was entered. The dildo slipped in like a key to lock and Jack writhed his hips slowly against the Pulse mount. Lightning filled the dark room as Jack’s hips started to hum its song, picking up speed. The storm must have been overhead as flashes of light filled Jack’s head and his body trembled with sweat.

Waves were beginning to lap against Jack’s body. That’s the only way he could describe it. Waves of hot, thick, breathless ache were rippling through his body, crying out to the god of ivy and vine. Jack’s hips were shouting, screaming their song. Jack felt that screaming beginning to pull his body apart, the ache of surrendering, being torn apart waiting for the god who comes. The thunder was so loud now, the light was so bright. Jack couldn’t hold back his moans, his cries. He felt the tear between body and soul. The wind howled, the lightning hit the ground and in one terrifying and glorious moment Jack felt himself unravel. All the threads that wove him together, keeping himself bound, frayed. He was free, he was liberated. Jack, exhausted, rolled off the Pulse mount, and slept. With a soft smile spreading across his lips, he dreamt of riding a white bull, naked and crowned in a wreath of ivy and vine.

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