Travelling the Horny Moon By Charles E.J. Moulton

Xavier’s fingers raced across the keyboard, his mind working faster than his hands could follow suit. The light of the full moon journeyed from outer space through the stratosphere, hitting that computer, the ticking clock on the wall remaining as much an object as the machine in front of him.

The clock, however, was, as ever, too slow for his taste. It was almost as if Xavier worked to fill the seconds with more words, as well as with more than words. And yet – and yet – the slow and solemn night, combined with Xavier’s quick inspiration, somehow changed his perception of time. Fast became slow and slow became fast, time transformed into merely organized digits and eternal timelessness arose from the depths into his spirit.  It reminded him of his grandfather’s successful promises kept, fabricating clock upon clock in his workshop back in Lyon.

He had created this clock for Xavier. It still hung there, ticking, constant, reliable. And yet Xavier’s mind worked faster at night. Like Xavier’s literary work, his grandfather’s craft thrived on detail. Every clock had been a masterpiece. Every one was an original. Like he had been one: him, the grandfather. Like his grandfather had claimed Xavier was unique or every person was unique – every man and every woman.

“Ah, oui,” his grandfather had said. “The women are fascinating! So elusive and mysterious, quite a riddle, but a lovely one!”

This clock, eternal although time-constricted, had a picture painted on its surface of landscape, a shore with a beach and trees lit up by a moon. It was spiritual and yet sensual. Xavier’s wife had fallen in love with that clock and hung it up at that very place where it hung now. It had hung there since their honeymoon, or the “horny moon”, as she lovingly had called it. That had become a code word for sex ever since. Travelling to the Maledives for their “horny moon” and literally fucking themselves through it, that was one thing. The fact, however, was that their lust seemed to increase every actual full moon, but maybe it was just the fact that the moon inspired love.

Anyway, horny moons or no, Xavier’s wife’s boobs resembled actual moons and Xavier’s dick a rocket, so the married couple pretended that Xavier’s rocket came flying up between the two biggest moon of Saturn, squirting out its fuel on its neighbour Venus. Sometimes, they just called it titfucking.

Through the years, Xavier had watched his grandfather work, his reliability a buffer of strength. He had come to realize how like him he was: studious, hardworking and, he hoped, eloquent. Xavier’s articles thus turned rather eloquent in the end, his proofread stories seemed like fresh editions, his corrected book good enough to be published and his submissions professional. His literary skills were like clockwork: his timing was impeccable.

Time was of the essence and within the essence there was eloquence.

Outside now, though, the Queen of the Night had thrown over her brilliant blanket across the world, waiting, hoping, meditating. The stars glittering, the full moon graced the heavens brightly enough to re-awaken Xavier’s inner werewolf with the hot erection.

Xavier wanted to copulate. Who was he kidding? Xavier wanted to fuck. Inside his glass, the red Rioja reflected the lit candle’s flickering flame. Fuego’s breath exhaled sex into the fibres of his erect arousal. Time was of the essence. Inside the glass, time stood still.

Xavier found himself again being the only night-owl. His workaholic mind couldn’t stop fluttering and flying into new spheres, mixing genres, erotic with sci-fi and comedy with horror, sending off new stories to new publishers and wondering what horizons would meet him at the end of the next rainbow.

The dainty snores of his family, though, proved to be too inviting to reject. He listened for his wife’s sweet snore, her sweet restful sleep hopefully strength-gathering enough to snooze until the morning.

“What are you doing, Mom? Dad?” his daughter had asked them yesterday, walking in to their bedroom unannounced, just as Xavier found his big cock entering his wife’s hot pussy again for the one-thousandth time.

“Extreme cuddling,” Xavier had mused shyly.

And boy, had his daughter ever told her girlfriends what her father had told her as he laid on Mom. Their natural way of raising his daughter felt right, teaching her that her parents made love because it felt good. Maybe she could find a respectful husband one day with whom she could raise a free thinking and spiritual child. Their openness was neither compulsive nor was it forbidding, neither was it preachy nor revolutionary.

Sex, Xavier felt, was neither a sin nor was it against God’s wishes. Sex, Xavier felt, was creation at work, a unity of bodies and souls.

At its faithful and respectful best, sex was love.

No more, no less.

Flop. His laptop made a clicking sound as he closed it, followed by a cocky knock-back of fermented Spanish grape-juice. The house welcomed him to rest as he journeyed with the glass to the kitchen, the light of the moon again hitting the empty cold memory of wine.

Fabric by fabric, Xavier stripped and tread into the shower. The trickling water of the shower then replaced the red wine, seducing his skin with evening rejuvination. It was under the water that Xavier let his soapy hands massage his cock, rubbing it up to a glorious six inches. As he stood there, letting the shower inspire his helmet, he thought of sleeping wife, her brilliantly cocktrained mouth spoiling his dick rotten with spectacular blowjobs.

In and out of her mouth his penis went, her dickpleasing techniques glorious to say the least. He recalled giving her nicknames like “Dickraiser” and “Penislover” and “Spectacular Fuck” and “Wonder-Wobbles” or simply “The Best Fucking Cumshot in History”.

Well, Thea loved hearing him tell her:

“Come on, baby, stick my cock in your mouth and suck more than a little!”

And how she did suck. His cock felt like singing, if it could sing at all.

“You suck so well!”

“You cockh tashtesh shooooah grreath,” she would always grunt, his dick plopping in and out of her bobbing horny head. And then he would fuck her, her tits wobbling to and fro, finally squirting his cum onto her tongue penishungry tongue.

The sweet cool water dripping off his horny manhood, Xavier inspected Thea’s bathroom wall-decorations: kissing fish, randy octopus hearts, titlike jellyfish and vagina-like sharks. It was with an eager smile that he brushed his teeth, still looking at the seahorse that reminded him of a tit with many nipples. And when the towel dried his one-eyed weasel off, Xavier swore himself to lick himself some serious wifey-tit.

Once in bed, however, his dick still as erect as a flagpole, he chose to give himself a short five-finger-mambo before performing a tender sleep assault on his S.A.F. – his Sausage-Addicted-Filly, his C.T.M.C. – Cock Teasing Masterpiece of a Cockpleaser.

Laying there in the darkness, he let his hands massage Mr. Happy. He remembered his wife’s nice girlfriend arriving earlier, sitting on the terrace, drinking coffee, putting in a cake onto her sexy tongue. Xavier imagined walking up to that girlfriend’s seat, plucking out his cock and asking her to give him a blowjob.

That fantasy elaborated itself almost independantly and let his dick throb.

In that next fantasy, his wife Thea and the girlfriend Maria sat on the edge of their bed taking turns sucking his cock until he squirted on both of their faces.
Now his sex fantasies really took off. Laying there in that darkness, rubbing his long dick, he felt a pride for his own cock surge. That pride, however, did not only entail a love for pussies and tits. The sight of a cock inside the mouth of a pretty lady remained one of the most breathtakingly beautiful sights in the world. So beautiful, in fact, that Xavier wondered how it was to suck cock for real.

Xavier was a hunky and masculine man in this life, no question.

He believed in reincarnation, though, and was sure that he had been a woman in his earlier life. At that moment, his own long cock raised, he recalled being a rich woman once, on her knees in front of three men, sucking their cocks one by one, letting them squirt on her face in turn.

Xavier felt his own tits swell, large and succulent ones ready for some male tongue. He felt his wide hips tingle and his pussy throb. Every cock tasted fantastic and with every squirt Xavier opened his mouth in this life, waiting for male cum to land on a willing female tongue. One of his fuckers in that previous life was the husband in that incarnation, Henry. It had literally been a fantastic orgy. Henry, his previous female self and the two other men met once every week in their large mansion, fucking like rabbits.

He lay there, remembering how feminine he had felt back then and how masculine he felt now. Then, the surprise. Henry, the husband of his previous incarnation, had been Thea in her last carnation as a man. Man, so they had switched places just to learn what it was like to be the other gender. Thank God!

Inspired by all of this, he moved his hand slowly toward his wife’s tits, reaching under her covers. Realizing that she already had raised her nightgown, Xavier began massaging her left boob slowly and elegantly and with a joyous grin on his face, Mr. Happy now larger than ever. The left nipple grew to the size of a strawberry as quickly as Thea’s moans manifested a fine and raunchy crescendo.

With his right hand Xavier wanked his large dick into greater lengths whilst giving his wife that jugjob of her life. Soft like a pillow, smooth as silk, her knocker inspired the helmet of his penis to become as blue as a blueberry and as red as tomato, all of his body’s blood pumping into that loving hotrod.

“Ooh, yeah,” his wife mused as Xavier bent over the second tit, letting his tongue flippy-flop it to randilicious glory. “That feels good, baby.”

Xavier laughed enthusiastically.

“I’ll give you a piece of something that feels better,” he answered, grabbing her blonde head and leading in down between his legs. “Suck on this, darling!”

The sight of his wife putting his Long John Silver onto her tongue flabbergasted him every time. What was better was the fact that she kept aiming to deep throat him deeper and deeper for every gag. That whole erect prick landed in her mouth, making him fly. She didn’t seem to get enough of cock. His hands kept on massaging her cupcakes as her saliva trickled into the cockeye of his shaft. What he loved more than anything was slapping her ass a little and patting her head a little more while she blew him off.

“A countess at the celebrity reception, a cocksucking whore in the bedroom.”

“I’ll be your good girl, baby!”

That was Thea’s motto. So it often happened that Thea begged for Xavier to control her, call her a slut, ask her to be a good girl, lift her skirt and stick in his cock by surprise while she stood by the stove. If he did that well, she said, she could go back to her work as a major CEO with more joie de vivre and a feeling of more power. She had acted the part of the cocksucking whore. Her staff would know she meant business, profiling her position on the basis of skill alone. The slut in the bedroom belonged to Xavier.

Xavier? He admired Thea’s sense of organization, her intelligence, her vocabulary way more advanced than even his as a published author. So imagine the joy of getting the permission of treating his strong and respected wife like a whore in the bedroom.

With a happy smacking sound, Thea flopped his cock out of her mouth, creamy saliva trickling down her chin. No, not yet, Xavier thought to himself, straddling his wife’s face and pushing his testicles into her mouth. She sucked willingly, moaning and groaning like a sex-servant. And when Xavier pulled his balls out of her mouth and stuck in his dick, he reached back into her cunny and fingerfucked her.

The arousal exploded into a frenzy, forcing him to lick his way down past the titties and into her snatch. The salty taste of her vagina turned his oral sex into a wet dream.

“Come on, you macho clitlicker,” Thea groaned. “Stick it in!”

His wet face withdrew from Thea’s cunt with clitliquid dripping onto her bellybutton.

With a purple-blue helmet as a weapon, Xavier ignited his rocket, shooting his machine-gun aggressively into her snatch, riding her like a horny stallion rode his steed, her jugs bouncing like kiddy rubberballs on a Saturday afternoon, her tender ass feeling soft enough to slap a little and her face sexy enough to lick.

Their mutual splendor turned into a wildfire, the speed increasing.

“Thea, I have to squirt into your mouth,” Xavier exploded.

“Come on, stud,” she answered. “Give me some proteins.”

Just like Xavier had done in his reincarnated memories in the earlier dark, Thea stuck out her tongue willingly, hoping for some hot cum. He wanked harder and faster, his entire persona getting ready to fling some jizz on his wife’s sexy face. In cramp-like fits, his sperm shot out of his long and hard penis onto his wife’s cock-starving tonsils.

“Yummy sperm,” she oozed. “More where that came from, Eleven!”

On Xavier’s face a wide grin appeared, his cummy cock sliding in and out of his wife’s mouth. “Eleven. You haven’t called me that in years.”

“Well,” Thea mused, giving his willie a kiss and licking off the white stuff. “To me, you will always be my hot soccer rod with the 11 on your teamshirt. Besides,” she continued, sucking a little bit, “your cock is as thick as two other cocks, name any fucking cock. I’ve done a lot of cocksucking in my life and other guys have about half of your thickness. That’s why 11, that is two ones, is a perfect nickname for you. You fill me up like no other cock can.”

That made him happy. Mr. Happy? That, too.

Thea showered about three in the morning, cleaning the cum off her face. His daughter woke up, wondered what the matter was. Subsequently, his wife went into his daughter’s bedroom, sang her “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and told her a bedtime story about Bobby the Bear and then came to bed, only to be fucked haard and bad by her horny man again.

Xavier wondered if his daughter Lena had heard them fucking. Thea only answered that their daughter had asked her if the extreme cuddle was fun. Thea had answered that it certainly was. Thea, Xavier realized, was not only a celebrity countess and a nightly whore. She was also the best mother the world had ever come up with.

It was Thea’s turn to be dominant that next day. Xavier mowed the lawn, cut the hedge, did the taxes. Thea went to work, commanded her staff around. In the evening, he proofread a book of his that was going to be published, called a few literary agents, planned a few booktours and brought Lena to bed, singing her a song and telling her a sweet story, as well. Xavier couldn’t be happier. He was a successful professional, had a great wife, a fantastic daughter, a great house and wonderful colleagues.

In the evening, Xavier wanked and squirted on a picture of his wife, preparing to turn into a nocturnal werewolf again, his wife Thea’s eternally happy and powertool, King of the Greatest Cocksucker Queen of the Milky Way.

Man, his wife really knew how to suck good cock.

How’s that for travelling the moon?