Free The Artifact of Foex by James L. Wolf Page A

Please, feel free.”
    Oh, Pantheon, her breasts were huge. Chet had
never touched human breasts except through clothing. He couldn’t
believe he’d waited so long. They were soft, marvelous, the nipples
and areolas profoundly exciting. Journey’s bouncing movements
accentuated the luminosity and impact of her breasts. Even the snug
encompassing of his cock dimmed compared to this treat.
    It occurred to him, somewhere in the back of
his head where he was still rational, that Journey had shaped her
breasts large on purpose. Like distracting a baby with a pretty
mobile? Journey had what she wanted, and she was willing to give
him something in exchange. The thought made him crumple inside. He
thrust up into her, blatantly disobeying her command.
    Journey groaned and slapped his thighs. “Bad
boy," she moaned. “Bad, bad boy.”
    Her movement, her words, her
tits—everything—filled him as he came, arching up into her.
    Journey sighed and rolled off. “Shit. There
goes my fun, for the moment.”
    Chet glanced past her and realized that
Fenimore and Knife were still in full coitus. Knife was on top,
Fenimore was on the bottom, writhing and giving Knife trouble.
Knife had him by the hair—such long hair—and was using it for
leverage. Knife was taking Fenimore almost violently. The sound of
their fucking filled the van.
    Chet grabbed his own cock; he was getting
hard again. Journey stroked his shoulders absently but made no move
to mount him again. Was she angry? But no, she was smirking at
Knife, who was clearly on the verge of coming. Chet, seeking a
closer look, noticed that the base of Knife’s penis was now very
thick. Huge, in fact. Knife let loose a wild howl as he climaxed,
Fenimore snarling beneath him.
    Knife and Fenimore parted. A thoughtful
silence followed as people cleaned up. The towels in the
organization rack were put to good use while Knife and Journey took
turns with the lighter. Chet looked once, then had to look away.
Even knowing that fire was their natural element, it still
seemed
painful.
Fire to genitals, ick.
Chet found
himself facing Fenimore, who shot him a sly smile.
    Fenimore’s smile took on a predatory glint as
he studied Chet’s dick. “Ah, such a resoundingly fit model of the
flaxen race. I’m honored.”
    Chet scowled. “Great good Pantheon, I wish
you’d knock that off. I’ve never met anyone so racist in all my
life.”
    “He doesn’t know that word, Chet,” Knife said
from the other side of the van.
    Chet glanced over at Knife. He and Journey
were cuddling together, spooning—Knife in the back, Journey in
front. They didn’t seem to be having intercourse. It looked...
comfortable, like old friends enjoying one another’s company. Her
tits were smaller now, Chet noticed regretfully.
    Fenimore stepped closer, grabbed Chet’s
shoulders and reeled him in. Chet froze, all thought of the Flame
evaporating from his mind. Fenimore’s penis touched Chet’s, like
two swords crossing. Chet gasped, overtaken by the sublime
sensation. Then Fenimore threw him to the bed. Chet instinctively
rolled over and tried to scramble away. He was stopped, locked down
by rock-hard arms. With languid movements, Fenimore sank on top of
him, pinning him to the mattress. It wasn’t even a contest. Knife
could play these games, but Chet was nothing in comparison. He was
soft, a rag doll for Fenimore’s pleasure.
    Fenimore licked his ear. “Now, my little
friend, I am going to explore your sweet arse and take you
hard.”
     

Chapter 6
Taking One for the Team
    Chet couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He
didn’t know how to react, or indeed, whether there was any reaction
he should be having. It was so strange to be lying face down and
naked under a forceful man, about to be penetrated, trapped inside
a prostitute’s van with Flame looking on. Let alone bound to a lost
magical object of vast power. If someone had told Chet that he
would be doing this a week ago, he’d have never believed