Timeless

This fat, over rouged slug of a woman is really beginning to get on my nerves. My contract is very, very clear. I am supposed to be here as her escort for the evening not her personal pinching post. I swear if she gooses me once more I’ll let the whole room know how much she is paying me and just how long it took us both to get her stuffed into that hideous green outfit she is almost wearing. I’ve wrestled greased pigs that were more compliant than her cellulite. OUCH.

That’s it, she asked for …… Hello Gorgeous. Now that ladies and gentlemen of the orchestra is what I call a man. Give him a fanfare please.

I’m sorry, please excuse my manners. My name is Pieter and I’m a Shifter. Some of you may already have met me - let’s face it, some of you have probably had me. I am nine hundred and fifty two years old, but I’m proud to say I don’t look a day over twenty eight thanks to my ability to change my physical appearance whenever I like. I refuse to allow myself to get past forty. I did it once and was frankly appalled at the rapid degradation of the human form once that milestone is reached. I actually experienced a twinge of arthritis at forty five and that was it – wham, bam I was a younger man. Like I say, never again. I’m also immortal. Nothing can kill me.

Oh, he’s walking over to us. My God the man is sex on legs. No, you stupid fat cow he is not coming over to talk to you, stop fluttering those ridiculously large false eye lashes at him, any faster and your eyelids are going to take off!

‘Pieter, it’s been a long time.’ What the fuck? He knows me.

‘I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage.’ I can play the cool cat as well you know, I just wish my cock wasn’t trying to crawl out of my trousers and into his very cute ass.

‘It’s Michel. Remember? We met many years ago.’

‘How many?’

‘Many, many years.’ He’s a Shifter, he has to be and I must have met him at some time although I can’t for the life of me remember where or when. And believe me, I would have remembered this one. You see it doesn’t matter how many times we change our physical appearance we remain ourselves at the core and one Shifter will always remember any others he has come across. Not that it happens very often given there are only a little over two hundred of us in circulation worldwide. His arrogance is palpable. Everything about him screams conceit and self-importance – not attractive qualities if you ask me. I’ve always prided myself on my modesty and self-deprecation, despite my super-human abilities and physical attractiveness.

‘Of course I didn’t let you know I was like you – timeless as it were. You were still quite young then so I decided to stand back and watch how you handled yourself and your powers. You amused me.’

‘So what was I? some sort of medieval entertainment system?’

‘Jacobean actually, and it was King James you – we - were providing entertainment for.’

King James. Ah, what fun those days were. A new King following in line from a dried-up old hag of a bitch who outlived herself in my opinion. The sainted Elizabeth had heralded a new era in fun and frolics until the bloody Spanish and all those wizened old men on her council ground her down. By the time the old witch died we were all frightened to sneeze with out permission for fear of being thrown into the Tower – or worse. It was a hurricane of fresh air when James arrived, never mind a breath. And of course he did like his young men. So I Shifted into the most attractive young man at his court. I set my age at twenty with a lithe, slim yet defined body. I was modest with my manhood settling for just over seven reasonably thick inches. I did allow myself one of the most fuckable asses I have sported. It was mouth-wateringly gorgeous and received all the attention I could handle. Facially I settled for pretty-boy handsome, clean shaven with dark black wavy locks that curled at my collar. My skin tone was Mediterranean  - a light olive brown colour that set off my green flecked brown eyes perfectly. I was easily the most attractive thing at James’s Court and soon became established as my liege lord’s favourite bed companion. Not that James was exactly a catch in the bed department. He was reasonably fit for his age but his breath was terrible and I’ve seen hamsters with bigger cocks. Now I’m not a size queen, never have been. I’ve always been a believer that it’s not what you’ve got but what you do with it. King James scored negatively on both counts. I’ve had to endure some pretty mediocre lovers in my time but he took the biscuit. Ten minutes of useless humping with little more than three skinny inches poking my boy-hole and he was done – snoring even as he rolled off. On top of that the man was a bore. Still, he did surround himself with lots and lots of nice man-totty and was very relaxed about who fucked who, so he did have his compensations.

The weekend of his fortieth birthday will be etched on my mind forever. He took eight of us off to his favourite palace. I remember Robert Carr with particular affection. He had been a serving boy when he caught James’s eye. He was soon to be knighted and then become a Viscount thanks to the King’s patronage – well he couldn’t fuck just any old commoner now could he? Haddington, Hay and Montgomery were included in the gang along with Brown, Carter and a very cute groomsman, soon to be knighted, who’s name escapes me. He was memorable only for the length of time one could ride him and the tightness of his cunt thanks to all the horses he rode. The boy had buns of steel and screamed for England the more punishment his arse received. This particular weekend, the Groomsman was to earn his knighthood. James loved to watch others having sex, especially young, fit, hot blooded youths.

We arrived at the palace two hours before dinner giving us all ample time to bathe and dress for the occasion. Despite the size of the palace James decided we should all share rooms and I found myself bunking with Montgomery, a tall, taciturn, masculine Scotsman with a strong, hairy body that allied with his nine inch claymore of a cock always ensured a healthy, energetic fuck. I seem to remember I purred when I found out he was my roommate.

I had just removed the last of my clothes ready for my bath when the bedroom door was flung open and the russet haired, kilt wearing Viscount strode into the room.

‘By God Pieter, that’s a sight for sore eyes. Turn round laddie and let me see what I’m about to sheath my weapon in.’ Montgomery, despite being one hell of a stud was a dreadful boor. I didn’t mind the fact that he was rough and ready – well he was a Scotsman – but at times he could be a little uncouth which didn’t go down well with the effete Englishmen at Court. I enjoyed the discomfort his belligerent and common ways caused the prissy old men who thought they should be running the country, and in truth could forgive him anything as long as he fulfilled his promise to start splitting my arse on a regular basis.

I did as instructed and turned my back to him adding to his titillation by bending forward to pick up my handkerchief from the floor and exposing my tight rose bud for his delectation.

‘On your knees laddie, we’ve time for me to fuck that tasty cunt of yours before we need to be entertaining the King.’ Looking back at him I saw that his kilt was now more of a tent with a mighty pole raising it up and outward.

‘I love it when you Scotsmen wear a kilt properly. It’s just so bloody convenient and sensible.’ I dropped to my knees, put my head under the hem of the kilt and came eye to eye with the caber I would soon be tossing. My tongue snaked out of my mouth and pushed into the full foreskin covering the tender glans. As I rolled my tongue round his helmet, slowly pushing his hood back with my lips, I became intoxicated by the combined taste of man juice and piss that along with the manly musky smell of him invaded my senses. He held my head in his big, calloused hands and began to fuck his weapon in and out of my eagerly slurping and sucking mouth, each push forward pushing his monster tool further and further down my throat. My eyes were watering, my mouth producing what felt like gallons of thick, slimy saliva as he forced every inch of his glorious tool down my gullet till my nose was buried in his thick pubic bush. I gagged and choked through it all, holding onto his hard, muscled ass, determined I would take all he had or die trying.

Montgomery was soon crooning a highland love song to me between sighs and gasps of pleasure. The lyrics were extremely romantic: ‘Oh yes laddie, suck that cock laddie.’ And ‘Take that ya Sassenach whore.’ Not to mention: ‘Get ma caber ready for that English cunt laddie. Get it good and hard.’ Yes, very romantic.  

I sucked and licked and swallowed as though my life depended on it, Montgomery removed his clothes and as I gazed upwards from my position of sublimation I was stirred by the thick mat of reddish brown hair covering his chest that thinned as it travelled down his flat, firm stomach forming a treasure trail that led to the thick fragrant bush my nose was buried in. I reached up and played with his big nipples that became hard sensitive nubs of pleasure for both of us – I absolutely adore responsive nipples sitting atop big round, hard chest muscles.

The taste of him grew stronger in my mouth and I knew he was close to emptying his heavy balls into my stomach. He was fighting between shooting his load into my mouth or waiting to pump it into my waiting arse. I released him and sat back on my heels. ‘How quickly can you repeat Monty?’ He grinned down at me with a cocky, playful smile on his generous red lips. ‘Can you manage both my holes before dinner?’

‘No problem at all laddie. No problem at all.’

That was all the encouragement I needed and I quickly enveloped his leaking, pulsing erection with my eager mouth. I brought my hands to his balls and shaft, wanking the thick stem and squeezing his heavy, tightening ball sack as I felt him get bigger, longer, thicker before a torrent of near scalding man juice filled my mouth. I swallowed as fast as I could but he was too big and spewing so much cum that inevitably a thick, viscous river ran down from my lips onto my chin. He tasted so good; so manly somehow. I was sorry when the last drops were sucked from him and gently licked and kissed his still hard cock, determined to feel it’s massiveness inside me before we bathed and dressed.

He lifted me to my feet and seeing the trail of his cum on my face licked it off before he pressed his full lips to my swollen, well used ones. We sparred with our tongues as we tasted and enjoyed the mix of our saliva with his salty ejaculate. Monty was an excellent kisser. We had spent many an hour laying with each other before today simply ‘making out’ as you so delicately put it these days. I had sucked his magnificent cock to climax on several occasions but for some reason or other he had never actually fucked me before. It was time to correct that oversight.

I moved away from him, walked to the bed, grabbed a thick pillow then lay on my back, legs in the air, pillow under my lower back. I spat on my hand and reached down to rub my thick saliva over and into my fuck-hole. Monty growled – I swear he did – before applying his own spit to his monster arse splitter. He pushed it against my all too willing cunt entrance. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he forced his tumescence into me. Inch after thick, hard, hot inch pushed into me, stretching me wider and deeper than any man had done for several lifetimes. I had definitely underestimated the size of the Scotsman’s fuck pole. He was well over ten inches long with a thick mushroom head. The best of it was that he got thicker as you got closer to the root that sprouted from that fiery forest. My eyes were crossed, watering and as wide as a Scottish loch by the time he bottomed out and I felt his balls come to nestle against my arse cheeks. Where the extra length and girth came from I have no idea; I swear he wasn’t this big when he was fucking my face.

He took hold of my legs by my ankles and pulled them up and out as wide as he could before beginning his assault on my cunt. I’ll admit it was painful at first but as he got into a rhythm and I got used to the size of him my body began to respond as any good cum-slut’s body should. Each time he moved over my prostate, crushing and bruising it like no other had before I cried out in passion. My achingly hard cock was as thick and long as it ever had been in this life with a steady flow of precum dripping from it as the enormous, arm-thick dick ploughed my arse. Monty was putting everything he had into this fuck. Once I was used to him and was more than comfortable accepting each and every thrust he began to increase his pace and ferocity, driving my head and shoulders into the mattress. My cries of lust must have echoed through the palace. I thrashed back and forth, side to side as he drove me to the top of the pleasure curve before, with one final, gut punching smash of his groin into my wide arse crack he bellowed some unintelligible Clansman’s war cry and blasted his seed deep inside me. His second cumming was as impressive as the first. His ferocious pounding pushed me over the edge and without touching my dick I hosed both myself and the bed with a copious amount of cum. Monty collapsed onto the bed next to me.

‘You’ve the best cunt in the palace Laddie, and I’ve fucked more than a few so I should know let me tell you. You’re a dirty little bastard aren’t ya?’ Monty may have had the looks, body and cock of a latter-day Greek god but he wasn’t the brightest jewel in King James’s crown. He wasn’t the person to go to if you wanted deep and meaningful conversation, I doubt he could even read beyond managing to sign his name on official documents. But if you wanted to know about the artistry required to hunt down a squealing wild pig and the skill needed to eviscerate it afterwards – in all I’s gore filled detail – the Earl of Montgomery was your man. He also drank prodigiously and liked nothing better than an evening of drunken debauchery for which he was totally suited and equipped.

Monty helped me to bathe, joining me in the large wooden tub and dismissed the two young boys sent to see to our ablutions. He washed me himself from top to toe, paying particular attention to my nether regions, almost losing the soap in my over stretched man-hole when he pushed a little too hard against it whilst cleaning his leaking juice from me. ‘See Laddie, you’re ready to take me again.’ He moved to push his still very erect member into me but I skilfully dodged to the side and managed to clamber out of the bath before he was able to get a firm grip on me.

‘Maybe later Monty. Right now we need to get ready to join the King.’ I admit it was no easy feat keeping my hands and arse off him as I watched him rise from the cooling tub, soap suds and water cascading across every magnificent inch of him, his monster penis bouncing up and down and leading the way to the bed where our clothes for the evening were laid out waiting for us.

Half an hour later we were gathered with the other invited young spunks in the room of the palace James had chosen for the nights frolics waiting for the arrival of our Lord and Master.

Haddington and Brown were wearing nothing but very thin, diaphanous over shirts than clung to their tight youthful bodies like a second skin. It was obvious that both were already excited by the prospects for pleasure the night ahead held as their meaty cocks, half hard, bobbled about under the scant covering provided them.

Charlie Hay, first Earl of somewhere in the outer Hebrides, was happily ensconced on an overstuffed sofa with the young Groomsman who was thoroughly enjoying the expert fingering his pert looking ass was receiving. Charlie was wearing a kilt. A very short kilt that left nothing to the imagination. Had he ever worn it to the hunt, the local population would definitely have received far more of an eyeful than any could have anticipated. Hay was a sexy little bugger with blonde hair, a strong yet compact body with just a dusting of hair on his perfectly proportioned chest. I knew from experience that he knew how to use his seven inch cock to best effect as we were regular bed-fellows. He winked and smiled broadly at me as he pushed four fingers deep into the wanton Groomsman’s eager hole. The young lad from the stables wore only a smile that soon became a wide mouthed look of surprise as the hand inside him pushed deeper.

‘Charlie! Canna ye not wait until after dinner afore ye shoves your hand up the randy bugger’s cunt?’

Monty was as erudite and tactful as ever! Although he did have a point.

I moved towards Robert Carr who with Lord Andrew Carter was warming himself by the roaring fire. Both wore only their silk hose secured at their waists by rope. Every inch of them was clearly visible. They were an extremely erotic sight. They could almost have been twins with their lithe young bodies and boyish good looks. Both had thick, unruly mops of black hair on their heads, any other hair they may have once sported had been shaved off leaving them smooth and boy-like in appearance. They represented everything our King liked most in his young men, well the ones he actually fucked anyway. Monty and Charlie were there to service him, like studs in his stable of horses, they were called on to screw the royal mare whenever his slack hole itched. Neither event happened very regularly as the King was a watcher, a looker, rather than an active participant in the sexual shenanigans he organised for us all.

Monty and I had been given warm woollen toga-like robes to wear that were secured at the shoulder and hung down front and back revealing everything we had to offer every time we moved. The eight of us must have presented quite a spectacle as the doors opened and King James the first of England, the sixth of Scotland camped into the room. Yes, camped!

The thing no history book ever tells you about the first Stuart monarch is just what a mincing little queen the old dear actually was. And he lisped. Whether this was natural or affected I never did find out, but it had the effect of making what was already an incredibly effeminate man into an at times, embarrassingly camp and limp wristed individual. Of course being the sycophants we all were, we fawned over him and never actually told him the truth about himself and how utterly ridiculous he managed to appear at times.

‘Good evening Boysth, I twust you are all well?’ He surveyed the room, his gaze settling on Hay and the groomsman, whose head was thrown back in obvious ecstasy as the fingers in his ass made him dance to their tune. James smiled slyly, ‘I sthee that you have alweady started Hay my dear, and with the hired help no lesth.’ His eyes returned to the rest of us, ‘they make a pwetty couple do they not boysth?’ Of course we all chuckled at his wit, allowing him to believe that he was the centre of our world.

James was not in any way a prepossessing sort of figure. He was of average height with a slightly tubby midriff, thinning hair and the bulbous nose that was to reoccur on every subsequent Stuart monarch. He could never be called a handsome man and his dress sense did little to help his countenance. He insisted on wearing clothes that quite frankly made him look like an over-stuffed haggis. He smelt like one too most of the time. Add to all this the ridiculous cod piece he always wore to fool people into thinking he had a large appendage when he was fully aware that we all knew he only needed a finger and thumb to hold it when he pissed and even at that he still managed to get piss all over them. I often wondered what the unwashed masses would think as they clutched their new bibles, if they knew that the King it was named for was a prissy sissy with a cock the size of an acorn. How on earth the man managed to father three children is beyond imagining! Well actually he fathered eight but five died in infancy, I always think it’s a pity the blasted Charles didn’t follow them, it would have spared us that truly dreadful man Cromwell, who was not only the ugliest ruler this country has ever had to endure but also the dullest.

But I digress, I was trying to remember where I had met this other Shifter, this Michele. I could feel nothing from him that allowed me to assess where we had interacted before. Now I do know that very, very old Shifters have the ability to mask their true selves from others, so I’m guessing he is one of them. Try as I might I couldn’t place him, especially not in the closed court of King James’s bum-boys.

‘I’ll help you Pieter,’ he seemed to know I was struggling to recognise him. ‘The last time we met was at James’s fortieth birthday weekend. I spent most of my time there either on my knees or back being royally rogered by you and your associates whist the King watched and awarded you all points on your performance. What was it you were playing for, I can’t quite remember…..?’

‘An Earldom. And now I know who you were – the cum-slut groomsman – that was you wasn’t it?’ He smiled and nodded. ‘Why did I not see you for what you are? Unless of course you’re one of the ancients?’

‘I am, and I have followed your progress through the centuries with interest and not a little amusement.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Well you haven’t exactly been discerning over the years have you? And look where you have ended up this time because of your insatiable desire for sex with men – pimping yourself out to cellulite filled pieces of trash like her.’ He openly pointed at my overweight, over rouged, slightly inebriated pay-mistress. Unfortunately she heard every word he said, along with anyone else within earshot, and she was not best pleased. If the over-stuffed turkey, wearing far too much make-up, had one good point it was her ability to dismiss those she deemed to be beneath her. She reduced Michele to an inch tall prick with a look, a toss of her not insubstantial bleached locks and a loud “Fuck off you stuck-up cunt. I might be fat and older than I was but at least I’m not a pompous, badly dressed homo covered in fake-tan.’

She was quite magnificent. Brash and common, but none the less magnificent. My fellow Shifter was left speechless with his mouth hanging open like a toddler waiting for its Farley’s Rusk. It was a priceless example of someone not caring what others thought of her putting a self-opinionated snob in his place. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. She stalked across to the other side of the room leaving a cloud of her sweet sickly perfume in her wake. I turned, laughing to Michele who was trying hard to regain his dignity and composure. ‘You sort of asked for that didn’t you dear?’ He glared at me. I took his elbow, ‘come on, I’ll buy you a drink. Oh, and you owe me a thousand pounds.’

‘The hell I do. What for?’

We took up position at the bar and once I had ordered drinks I looked him in the eye and explained.

‘The charming lady I was accompanying tonight was paying me one thousand pounds to do so, along with bedding her at the end of the evening. I don’t get paid until completion, and I’d say it’s a good bet she won’t be taking me home with her tonight after your revealing my sexual preference. Plus, you can probably afford it.’ Thankfully he didn’t argue. He put his hand in his jacket pocket, pulled out his very full wallet and proceeded to count out the required amount in fifty pound notes. Now it was my turn to be speechless. He handed me the cash.

‘You will come home with me instead tonight Pieter. We have much to discuss.’ His open leer made my skin crawl. He was now nothing like the cute little groomsman we had all availed ourselves of all those years ago. As I stared at him, my mind went back to that weekend almost four hundred years ago and the moment I slipped my very hard cock into his well lubricated hole – so lubricated that it was running down his legs and he was about as tight as a cows cunt that has just given birth to twin calves – but I fucked him anyway. It was what we were all here for, so that the great and good King James could watch his new toy being passed around his friends and fucked till he could no longer stand. The poor boy was covered in our cum. I was the fifth that night to empty his balls deep in his bruised arse and he was still begging for more. Up came Monty with his ten inch monster – no please or thank you just one slick, firm push and he was buried to the hilt. The boy’s head was thrown back as a scream of surprise, pleasure and pure lust filled the room. Monty pummelled that young cunt for all he was worth leaving the groomsman gasping and exhausted when he finally pulled out after delivering the biggest load of the night into his worn out cunt.

I returned to the present Michele. ‘How long did it take for your arse to recover from that weekend?’ If looks could kill I would have died a dozen deaths.

‘Long enough. At least I needed time to recover unlike you after the Restoration banquet. Remind me, how many men filled your twat that night? I lost count at twelve and the line was still forming when I left. And yet you were walking and sitting as normal the next morning, looking for more cock like a bitch in heat.’

I decided not to rise to his taunts. I have always been extremely proud of my ability to take as much cock as I want and to suffer no ill effects from it. Since my first incarnation to the present one I have revelled in the feeling of cock after cock ravaging my willing mancunt whilst at the same time being face fucked. Cum is a fuel to me. It provides all the protein and life juice I need to constantly recreate myself. Others of my ilk have their own ways to recharge and re-energise. Spunk is my life-blood – I’m a sort of cum-slut vampire without the teeth! The Restoration banquet is a night I shall remember with – shall we say fondness? – for the rest of my existence. It was an orgy  par excellence. A no holds barred bacchanalian fuck fest that saw me served up on a covered platter to Charles II’s brother – another James but unlike his grandfather and namesake, this one was all man with a body, stamina and tool to satisfy any craving. He had learned and perfected the art of man sex whilst serving in the Royal Navy. Rumour has it, although it has never actually been proven, that when he was appointed Admiral of the Fleet and put in charge of the entire kit and caboodle, he crewed his flagship, The King Charles, affectionately known as the “Jolly Roger”,  only with men who preferred men – a jolly Tar was had by all!

However, back to the matter at hand. What to do with Michele? I had to decide if I should go home with him to find out what he wants or to I escape with one of the attractive men I had made eye contact with during the evening?

I decided, reluctantly, that I should stick with Michele. The nape of my neck was prickling and that always meant something big, something important was afoot. The only downside I could see was my having to fuck the arrogant bastards cunt. From what I remember of his sexual preferences, if I am a bottom, he is a total sink-hole. I just hoped he had a plank handy to strap to my back so I didn’t fall in!

‘How much longer do you want to stay? Would it be rude of us to leave now do you think?’

‘I think we should find someone to accompany us.’ He openly rubbed his hand against my crotch, not caring that many saw him do it. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. ‘Let us search for someone with the stamina and cock of a stallion.’ He continued to boldly manipulate my cock  and balls, his actions inviting either censure or encouragement. Fortunately we caught the eye of a fairly attractive security guard with what looked like a body big enough to make three of me. His bicep was thicker than my thigh and from the obscene tenting at his fly his cock matched his physique.

Michele led me over to him by my now hard dick and before I could say or do anything to stop him had offered me up to the massive hulk for his use and amusement. He turned to me with a triumphant smile on his face, ‘Let’s see you earn that thousand pounds shall we Pieter?’

To be continued……