Speaker 1: Before we dive into today's fantasy, I want to take
a moment, just the two of us to talk about
something that could now could change or experience of pleasure forever.
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I'm waiting for you. I'm waiting for you to take
the next step into your deepest desires. So let's begin,
shall we. Hi, It's Devin and welcome to another episode
of Wild in Bed. Your destined for salacious stories, sensual satisfaction,
and finger licking good fantasies. So tonight's story, Martin has
repressed his urges his gay desires since being a teenager
thanks to the onslaught of his overbearing father. But when
fate gives him a chance away by some miracle that
he can experience all he desires. Well, would you be
brave enough to take it even if you knew that
it might be hell to pay in the morning, And
so join me and find out what Martin desires in
this episode slightly paranormal erotic story. You can know this
podcast is best enjoyed laying on your bed. Just loosen
your clothes, put your earbuds in, and close your eyes
and so render to the pleasure of my voice caressing
over your body. And when you're ready to surrender to pleasure,
just go ahead and take a nice deep breath and
hold it for a moment, and then let it go
with the sigh, letting go of any tension, any stress.
For the next thirty minutes or so, it's just you
and my voice. This is your time, your time to relax,
your time for sensuous satisfaction, Your time to release your
inner passions as you listen to my voice and feel
the story moving through your body as you enjoy tonight's show.
Martin shifted uneasily on his bed, the same dreams, the
same voices, the same torment. Every night he had to
endure this torture. Rolling over, he looked at the clock
on the night stand eight twenty am. Rolling back, he
sighed heavily. It was Sunday, which meant that he would
have to leave for church shortly. Even though he had
flown the family nest three years ago, some things were
so ingrained that he felt he had no option but
to go with them. If he didn't, he'd have to
suffer his father's withering gaze and acidic words of criticism,
the same gaze and voice that played him every night
in his dreams, especially when he had those dreams sexual sensual,
and herd so painfully hard, letting his eye slip shut,
His mind wandered till last night. In the club, Sparkling
blue eyes watched him from a cross the dance floor,
making his stomach flip. Despite the crowds of people, there
was just something that kept Martin's gaze fixed on the
strange man. Of course, he had denied himself the opportunity
of conversation, not wanting to invite the ogre of lust
any closer than it already was that damn Curtsey had
secretly carried since he was a teenager. That embedded confusion
about who he really was. Veiled in the club's darkness.
Martin could not see the man's physique clearly, but that
was okay. He had a very good imagination. Images of
the man's naked torso were very clear in Martin's mind,
sculpted but not overly so. A firm chest with ripples
and grooves of muscle, A well defined vietrail leading down
flat out into a narrow waist, A long thick cock
with rips of arousal leaking from the small slit on
its dark red crown. Ah fuck, Martin sucked him breaths,
his heart thumping against his chest and his hands sinking
underneath the sheets. Just the thought of running his fingertips
down the man's six pack made Martin's dick turn to stell.
Cupping his painfully for e erection, he stroked up and
down and determined abbreviated strokes. Pausing for a moment, he
slid open the drawer of his nightstand. In a moment
of courage, he had brought a tube of CBD loop
just in case he ever took his fantasies further. Smearing
the cold cream over his fingers, he pushed his fingers
between his buttocks and explored his rosette Within moments, the
muscles relaxed and allowed his fingers to slide easily in.
A bolt of need slid through him, the sensation of
his ass being made full, making his cock ache in
new ways. It was nothing like it felt before. Martin
grabbed his erection again, his fingers stretching around his girth.
He tried to stroke himself slowly. He tried to control
his lustful desires, but it just felt too good. The
image of the man's lips engulfing his cock flooded his mind.
His hips were clenching and thrusting, his fingers caressing over
his tightening bulls before invading his ass with welcome submission shit.
Martin rasped, pre come dripping from the tip of his
cock as pleasure ripped through him like a shot of electricity.
His feet pushed down in to the bed, forcing his
back to a arch as he let out a ragged
groan while imagining a thick cock breeching and thrusting and
tapping against that sweet horosness spot inside him. His cock irrupted,
warm streams of coume spilling over his stomach. Panting gently,
trying to maintain the image in his mind, Martin lay
back on his bed, but as always, the disapproving tones
of his father shattered the dream. You're just a pervert.
God would never welcome you in his house, And just
like that, the euphoria was gone, as gilt flooded his mind.
Maybe this was unnatural, Maybe this was the devil's work.
Maybe he was just a messed up pervert. A lone
tear drifted down his cheek as he wondered why God
had cursed him like this, Why give him these thoughts?
Why plague him with these desires? Was it truly a test?
As his father had said on so many occasions, the
Lutheran church the family attended every week preached lessons of
acceptance and that we were all the same in God's eyes.
But his father had been cut from a different cloth.
He had mentioned to Martin once, and only once, as
glimpses into his inner workings were rare, that he had
once sought to be ordained as a Catholic priest, But
beyond that, he didn't explain why they didn't attend a
Catholic church. Martin never knew. All he knew was that
his father interpreted the Gospels in a way that suited him.
It was obvious he would never escape this man's wrath,
so he would have to accept that this was his
access to the pleasure he craved, as limited as it was.
Taking a tissue, he cleaned off the remnants of his
hateful lust before rolling out of bed and showering to
ensure he was properly clean in case he exploded into
flames on passing through the church doors. The weight of
his guilt hung heavily on his mind as he stepped
out of the shower. Suddenly a memory flashed into his mind.
There was a new flea market just around the corner
from the church. To day, he could spend a little
time there to lift his mood before going to church.
He loved digging through undiscovered treasures, hoping to find something
he might like to buy. He pulled his Sunday best
suit from his closet and slipped into it. Looking at
himself in the full length mirror that stood in the
corner of his room, he practiced a time honored conversation
he knew would form his interrogation to day. No, sir,
I haven't met a young lady yet. Yes, sir, maybe
one day I can do my duty as an eldest son,
and gift you a grandchildren. He wondered briefly how understanding
his wife would need to be. He surely couldn't keep
his tendencies hidden for too long. She would surely realize
pretty soon that he didn't find women a turn on,
and then producing grandchildren would be challenging, to say the least.
His shoulders dropped again at the thought. If there was
a God, he must be cruel to impose his life
upon him. Martin decided skipping breakfast as a mark of
his independence from the tyrannical rule of his father. He
left his apartment and headed toward the flea market. Well,
if nothing else, he could distract himself for an hour
or so before church. The sun was beautifully warm, far
too nice a day to spend stuck in a church,
he thought. A gentle breeze caressed in from behind, urging
him onward. He had a good feeling that he would
find something to day, something that could fill the empty
spot in the corner of his sitting room. A large
face had been there once, but that had been shattered
in an unfortunate accident with a vacuum cleaner, and he
had found nothing since to fit with the ancient Mediterranean
ascetic he was trying for. To say the flea market
was busy was an understatement. It seemed like everyone within
a hundred miles had decided this was the place to
visit to day. The first few stools that he got
near had proven very underwhelming, largely occupied with people's crab
that they had really no other way of getting rid
of the rest of it. On those few stools, he
would rather die than have in his tastefully decorated apartment.
Fighting his way through the thrum of people, a wave
of claustrophobia hit him, the warmth of the sun suddenly
seeming oppressive rather than gentle and light as it had earlier.
His movement through the crowds became more akin to the
movement of a ball through a pinball machine, bouncing from
person to person, stalls to stall, not even having a
destination in mind apart from escaping the confusion and heat.
Suddenly the crowd vanished well truer to say the crowd
was behind him and he could breathe again. Although the
sun was now bearable and Martin didn't feel like he
was going to faint, confusion still gripped his mind. The
noise from behind still seemed deafening and echoed around his head,
closing his eyes to shut the voices out for a moment.
When he reopened them, an elderly pair of eyes were
watching him with what he could only describe as pity.
Despite their obvious age, the eye sparkled with care and humor,
which belied the face surrounded them, a face Martin decided
he might describe as having the same texture as weathered leather,
or perhaps a fig that had been left out way
too long in the sun. Her mouth spread into a
broad smile as she watched him, made even more disarming
by her lack of teeth. Sit down for a moment,
young sir. The crowds won't bother you here. No one
comes here to look at Rosy's wares. A chair was
pushed unceremoniously behind his legs. Unresisting, he fell into it.
Would young sir, likes some water, she asked, pushing an
ancient bottle of water against his lips. That's very kind,
thank you, Martin stuttered, a fresh wave of oppression from
her over enthusiastic desire to help sipping the water. It
tasted as bad as it smiled, but somehow he managed
to force it down. Looking over her store, it seemed
to overflow with a cacophony of items that really had
no theme. Is this all yours, he asked, trying to
sound interested, A pile of crap. No, it was my
late husband's. I found it all in the garage after
he passed. I'm just trying to sell it so I
can have a night out to meet myself. A nice
young man, she said, winking there was something about the
way she watched him he found more than a little unnerving.
Could you keep an eye on my store when I
go get to bite tweet? She asked, Yeah, sure, Martin replied,
not sure how to deny that favor. Watching her waddle
off in the crowd, her elbows were obviously formidable weapons.
As they cleared a two foot space around her, he
turned his attention to the mountain of items on her stall.
From an initial inspection, Martin decided the young male population
was decidedly safe from her efforts for the time being.
As he was here and in no mood to fight
his way back through the crowds again, he decided he
may just find a pearl in the waist and started
looking through the avalanche of items that decorated her stall.
Whatever her husband collected, he thought to himself, he certainly
had a wide range of tastes. Old football cards, ancient
hand tools, modeled cars, and, for some reason, a cardboard
box full of very adult looking videotapes. He had definitely
been a man of varied hobbies. As he tried to
move a well thumbed box of health and sports illustrated magazines,
a pile of dust fell from inside, covering most of
the storm. Not wanting her to return and see he
had ruined what she might generously describe as her display,
Martin started brushing the dust off the table, coughing as
his actions sent plumes of dust circling around him. Something
glittered through the haze of dust. It looked like some
form of bottle. It was largely glass, and from what
he could see, had a metal frame. It was difficult
to see the details from the dredge of dust which
covered it. Taking a deep breath, Martin blew as hard
as he could on the upheld bottle, a cloud of dust,
creating afresh coughing fit and streams of tears down his face.
And yet somehow not seeming to remove a single speck
of dust, looking around for a cloth to wipe it with,
the stupidity of his search suddenly dawned on him. Rosy
was not the sort of woman that would have any
type of cleaning cloth. Curiosity prevailed over any form of
sense as he rubbed the bottle against the inside of
his jacket. Suddenly he was aware of a voice looking round,
but no one seemed to be paying him any attention.
Yet he was sure he heard something. His efforts had
effected the dust level somewhat, so he persisted, rubbing the
bottle harder against his jacket, well aware his father would
notice and criticize this bitterly at church. Oh yes, that's it,
the mysterious voice said again. Martin stopped again and looked
around him, Still no one paying him the slightest attention.
Oh don't stop, it's been too long, the voice said
with a desperate urgency. Holding the bottle up to the sunlight,
Martin could make out shimmering colors moving behind the dust.
A silver frame winked through the areas he had managed
to clear. Martin returned to polishing the bottle, rubbing it
furiously whilst looking around for anyone that might be speaking. Oh, yes,
that's it, Yes, just like that. Oh fuck, I'm coming.
The stopper and the bottle erupted from the glass and
made a gentle tinkling sound as it dropped on the
silver chain and bounced against the glass. A cloud of
color erupted from within the bottle and spiraled in front
of Martin. I like your style, kid. Most people would
just go and pop the cork, but you, you made it erupt.
The voice appeared in his head. Confusion flooded Martin's mind.
Have I gone mad? He wondered. Suddenly the voice was
there again. No, you haven't gone mad. What are you?
Martin mouth silently shocked, removing his capability of speech. I'm
a bona fide genie in a bottle. Now I should
grant you three wishes for releasing me, But kid, I
gotta say, you deserve way more than that, so I'm
going to grant you five. Without thinking, Martin started brushing
the dust from his jacket while staring at the bottle
in his hands, aware there would be hell to pay
with his father later granted, the voice echoed from his mind,
the cloud of color whipped around him, and the dust
on his jacket was gone, as if it was never there.
I didn't ask for that, Martin managed, still trying to
work out what the hell was going on. You thought it,
that's all I need. Whatever you desire, I can make
it happen, the voice said, with a disarming amount of cheeriness.
The word desire seemed to hit a note with Martin,
and suddenly his mind was an avalanche of thoughts and images,
but he managed to whisper, oh fuck. Just as a
flea market, the people the street vanished, and warm san
caressed his naked back As he lay upon an isolated beach.
The sun teased his chest, her warm fingers tracing lines
along his body, electrifying him. His body suddenly felt alive
with passion. The ebb and flow of the tide caressed
at his feet, moving up his calves. He could just
stand up and leave any time he wanted, But then
why would he do so if it felt so good.
Bound by his own sensuality, Martin let himself fall deeper
into the sensuous pleasures moving around his body. For the
first time, he felt safe from judgmental criticisms. He felt
absolutely free. Closing his eyes to intensify the sensual pleasure,
he focused on the pink hue on the inside of
his eyelids as the bright sun warned his face. Suddenly,
the pink turned to black, and Martin jerked his eyes open.
There was a shadow between him and the sun. The
air suddenly felt a little coller without the sun's caress,
and a ripple of energy raced up his spine. Sparkling
blue eyes were watching him intently from the depths of
the shadows, just as they had in the club last night.
A powerful chest hung over him and dripping sea water,
the cold caress of the water teasing at his warm skin,
a stark contrast in sensations that ricocheted anticipation through his body.
The length of the man's cock pressed hard against him,
teasing his own erection to lie lost for words. He
nonetheless opened his mouth to speak, but in a firm
yet gentle way. The man pressed a finger against his
lips and said, say nothing. I know exactly what you want.
Martin pressed his head back down into the sand and
closed his eyes, surrendering to his wish. He didn't know
if he was dreaming or going stark craving mad, but
he didn't give a damn. He couldn't remember ever feeling
so good or so turned on. Lips cold from the
sea pressed slowly down his neck, the man's warm breath
feeling like a furnace compared to the icy, cold sea water.
The tip of his tongue teased warm, wet circles a
long Martin's trembling neck, catching the soft flesh between his
tongue and teeth, forcing electricity to cascade down his body.
The man's stomach pressed along Martin's aching cock, his body
moving gently up and down his shaft as his lips
explored Martin's chest, his hair dripping water tracing icy lines
over his body. As his lips brushed over Martin's nipple,
the whisper of a kiss forcing the tie peak to
become as hard and firm as his cock. Martin's body
reacted with urgency, trying to press his hips up and
thrust his cock into anywhere he could, But the man
was far too strong to be moved so easily. Instead,
he ground his firm abs across Martin's trembling shaft, forcing
a guttural moan up his throat, circling his nipple with
his tongue. Martin he was sure he could come just
like this, but the anticipation of what was to follow
fueled his excitement further. Pausing for a moment, Martin was
sure he could hear the man giggle gently at his
obvious frustration before he took Martin's nipple between his teeth
and dragged them so painfully slowly along it. Martin raised
his hands, finding the man's wet hair, and pushed his
fingers through the damp strands, pulling him tighter against him,
wanting desperately to feel more. His lips moved over Martin's stomach,
his pecks pushing up and down his cock, roughly rubbing
his borse. Martin's erection throbbed wildly with the desire for
what was to come next, that moment he had dreamed
about so often, and kissing past his cocking down his thighs,
Martin felt a pang of disappoint moment his cock surely
could not be any harder than it was right now.
The man bit gently along the inside of Martin's thigh,
his wet hair caressing his needy cock, teasing his balls
as his mouth moved higher, trying to control the burning
desire moving through him. Martin grasped the man's hair tightly.
He didn't want to just come as soon as his
lips were around him. He wanted to experience it, all
of it, but felt he was losing control of his
own orgasm. The man wrapped his fingers around Martin's cock,
pushing it back towards his stomach, exposing his balls to
the relentless onslaught of pleasure. Escaping the man's mouth gently,
he sucked, forcing trembles to vibrate through Martin's body as
he gently moved his balls in his mouth. Sliding his
hand between Martin's eye, the man pressed along the avenue
between his anus and bales, his cock shaking furiously with
the sensation, tracing the tip of his tongue firmly along
the underside of his cock. The man paused at that
spot where foreskin and cock joined, teasing it gently, Unable
to suppress a moon. Martin growled at the sensation as
his cock swelled with his orgasm, watching the tip of
Martin's cock thicken before the man slid his lips gently
over his cockhead before swirling his tongue around it, consuming
the first bead of Martin's pleasure. As he lowered his
lips around the length of his trembling erection, his fingers
pressed harder on Martin's perineum, sending bolts of pleasure shooting
through his whole body. Fuck. Martin hissed as a strong
finger rubbed over that nerve center, before moo moving towards
his rosette, then easing a finger inside as his mouth
moved up and down Martin's length, dragging the edge of
his teeth over his burning head. Martin twisted with the
intensity of the sensation, his hips thrusting as the wildfire
burned through him. He cried out loudly at the relentless
thrusting of the man's finger invading that spot Martin was
desperate to relinquish. Martin's fingers grasped the stranger's hair, lifting
his hips and thrusting deep into his throat as his
orgasm erupted. Not relenting, the man continued to finger his ass,
accentuating the pleasure. As wave after wave of orgasm exploded
through Martin's body, every nerve was alight with passion. Martin
gasped out, please stop, it is too much. Then, with
one last thrust of the man's finger and one final
expiration of his tongue. Martin's body was spent of come,
every drop filling the man's throat. Lights flashed in the
darkness as Martin closed his eyes, releasing a deep inhale
of breath and immersing himself in the pleasure. Suddenly, Martin
felt someone bang into him, shocking his eyes opened. The
noise of the flea market filled the void in his
head as he struggled to keep his balance. Gout a
wish kid, seriously better than those folks who wished to
win the lottery. Dazed, Martin took a moment to focus
on the street, the flea market, the cold reality reminding
him where he actually was. Then his knees buckled and
he collapsed onto the seat wh Rosey had given him,
gasping for breath, his body still electric with nurves. So, kid,
what do you fancy next, the voice asked in his mind.
Despite the colorful mist around, Martin having no bodily parts,
it is somehow, grinned at the next words appearing in
his mind. Really, wow, thanks for the invite, kid, never
been part of someone's wish before, and all three of
us that's going to hit the spot. So next week,
part two of our little Genie in the Bottle story.
I hope you're enjoying it a little bit different, you
might say. So until next week when we can get
Wild in bed all over again. This is Devin and
Wild wishing you salacious dreams.
Speaker 2: Pop art in space and ed into sight at, ducted
and invert overt stected,