Virtual Reality - Part 11

After that, we started going to the VR parlor more frequently. It was usually for more of the same, with me fucking Leo’s brains out with a cock many times the size of the one I had in real life. It started becoming routine, with me topping in virtual and bottoming in real life. Best of both worlds.

Or so I thought. Virtual has a tendency to become insufficient after a while for some people. Nothing beats the real thing, as they say, and even though the place we went to had the latest and greatest tech commercially available, you do full-dive virtual often enough and you start spotting… inconsistencies with the real world. Soon, it’s all you can see, and then virtual stops doing it for you.

Which is what happened to Leo. I could tell. One day he just wasn’t into my huge virtual dong anymore--there was no foreplay, no slobbering over my knob before diving ass-first onto my groin, no screams of ecstasy as he came buckets over my belly. It was just an act and one that he’d grown tired of.

When it started to affect our real-life sex, I got worried. Very worried. Worried enough that I started looking at options.

There was “enhancement” surgery of course. I could do anything from graft a porn star-size cock on to an actual fucking horse. But I wasn’t into the idea of chopping my own dick off to replace it with someone else’s.

A newer, slightly more expensive option was gene therapy. It was slower, and there was always the possibility of side effects, but the end product was still uniquely yours. A bigger, better you, as the ads often said.

Leo was into it. I was nervous considering the stories I’d read online about what this could do long-term, but I was also willing to do anything to keep Leo happy. So I went to the clinic and signed up. Got my first dose, was told to come back next week, and the next, until I was happy with the results.

I was expecting a shot in the arm, but instead I was told to drop my pants and take a small oral painkiller. Then the nurse plunged a small needle straight into my left nut. It hurt like hell even with the anesthetic, but I was told the pain would go away in a few hours.

It did. I got home and after sitting on an ice pack for a bit, the pain had subsided to the point where I noticed I was incredibly, unbelievably hard. Harder than I’d ever been in my life. I was practically lifting my own gut with the insistence of my erection, that’s how hard I was.

I spent the rest of the afternoon desperately trying to get off, but for some reason, no amount of stimulation was enough. Usually I could get myself there just by rubbing my dick into my own flab, and certainly humping my own fupa was still enjoyable, but it was just getting me to the edge now. I needed something more. I needed an ass.

When Leo got home, I didn’t even say hello. I waddled up, buck naked and leaking a trail of pre-cum from the couch. I tore off his clothes, threw him bodily onto the bed, and then started to desperately hump his ass.

Enthusiasm counts for a lot, but it usually isn’t enough to overcome physics. There was still a lot of me in between Leo’s hole and the tip of my inconsolable cockhead, and the excessive self-lubricant meant that even when I was getting on target I’d often just slip out and start hot-dogging his buns.

But eventually, one thrust found the mark. I was in after nearly 20 minutes of grinding my entire weight into Leo. If I was perhaps more lucid I might’ve been concerned I’d bent my boyfriend completely backward trying to fuck his hole, but my arousal had completely blinded me to anything other than getting myself inside my partner at all costs.

It turns out he was more than enjoying the rough attention. He was yowling like a cat in heat even as I pressed as much of my shaft into his hole as I could, which was admittedly not very much. It was enough for me to get into a rhythm, however, and it soon had Leo practically screaming in pleasure.

I didn’t fuck him as long as I probably would have in virtual, but it was still way longer than I’d ever been able to do in real life. I pounded and pounded and pounded, and with each stroke I could feel myself chip away at whatever barrier was keeping me from blowing my load.

Eventually, it fell away. I was there, the blissful nirvana of orgasm, the oneness of purpose as I felt myself spasm, my balls tightened up and forced their life-giving seed into a warm and willing receptacle.

And then it was over. I lay on top of Leo, fully encompassing him with my weight, our combined sweat having dampened the sheets. I was still hard though, and still inside Leo’s hole. I asked him if he was okay, but he just grunted. I assumed that to be assent.

For some reason I just started humping again. I didn’t ask for permission--I just slowly started driving my hips forward and backward in the same way I’d done before. And just as before, that same singular purpose started to take over my every thought and action. Leo was just the warm and willing receptacle.

We went at it for hours. We never changed positions--it was always me on top, Leo face-down on the mattress. I don’t know how many times he came. Judging by the screams, I assume it was quite a few times. But then again, I also lost track of how many times I came. It was just stuck in a loop of ascending, then descending, then ascending again. The only constant was my dick, which remained rock-hard throughout.

Leo would wake up the next morning with his back thrown out, but he insisted it was worth it. I laughed. Later that day we’d fuck again, but this time with Leo on top. It was easier that way, we found, although neither of us acknowledged the fact that just a few days ago it was practically impossible.