Lost Weekend





































 Illustrations by Michael Kirwan  

Story by Lance Rush



Originally published in Inches magazine - January, 2000



A Virtual Fuckfest for the End of the Millennium.




The year is 2999. You're sitting in a stark white dome in the sky. Just when you think you've done it, seen it, fucked and been fucked by it all, you receive a message on your computer screen:


"Come! Cum join us and venture into the most exciting trip your dick will ever take. Meet, or meat your perfect mate. Suck the perfect dick. Sink your cock inside and fuck the most extraordinary ass in creation. You are invited to take in the fun, freaky, forbidden pleasures of a Virtual Weekend. Experience a new evolution in sizzling sex. Treat your cock to the most fantastic vista of pleasure you and it have ever known. Believe us, your throbbing, shooting, juice-spitting dick will thank you throughout the next millennium!"


What would you do? Would you ignore it, and simply continue having lukewarm cyber-sex with some stud who can't reach out and stroke you? Well, if you're anything like me, and your joystick is a raging embarrassment towering from your vortex jockstrap--well, you'd take the risk. As I sat with dick in hand, trying to decide if it was just another scam, the weirdest thing occurred. Somewhere between fantasy and virtual reality, a hand wrestled my fist away. Was I dreaming of getting my cock sucked, slowly? Wet spittle washed over my throbbing dick. Oh! Suddenly, I was basking in it. It was strange, hot and transcendent! I would've sworn another man was in my room doing wonderfully kinky shit to me. But I was alone. I soon realized that sensation manifested from my personal computer. As that warm and thrilling wetness increased, I began to lunge my hips. The tight feel of a throat enclosed me. On the screen, there were questions asking:


"Do you like it? Is it wet and hard enough? Do you like your balls licked?"


Yes. I think I do.


"You like it rough, don't you? How's this? Mmmm! You've a beautiful cock, Lance. Oh! You're going to cum, aren't you? I can feel you pulsing, boiling. You can't hold back, can you? It's okay. Let it go."




"The preceding fellatio moment was brought to you by Phallo-Thrill Industries. We hope you enjoyed our little sampler. To register for our Virtual Weekend package, please enter your credit number at the sound of the beep."


I didn't have to think twice. That was all it took. I was in, hook, line and dribbling dick. I made an appointment for four days from then. My guide was Nathan. A shaved head, racially indeterminate Adonis of strapping musculature.


"First. Your virtual shades. Yes. You look quite amazing. Now, for your pill, sir."


"Pill? No. I'm not into pills. I came here to fuck, not to get stoned." I protested, strangely speaking out loud to my own computer screen.


"But you must," he insisted. "It's a Proton 3000. A completely new sex aid. You see, back in the annals of time, around 1998, there was a little pill called Viagra. It helped men achieve and maintain a sturdy erection. It took an hour to manifest. But it managed to get the job done. Well, the Proton 3000 is light years away from that ancient invention. Consider it, Viagra times ten. Quite simply, your penis will become a groin-driven spear, able to fuck and cum, and remain fantastic in span, scope and vitality. Without it your weekend here would be a gyp. Our aim is simply to bring you the most thrilling, ball-surging, cock-splattering time of your life. So take the fucking pill and shut up!"


He was as convincing as he was handsome. I took the tiny silver pill. And suddenly, with a gulp, I felt the pull of cock muscles flexing and a relentlessly hard, bull-strong erection sprang up from my silver, temperature-regulated briefs. Only this wasn't just any ol' hard-on. No. This was truly something to behold! Nine inches of vim and vigor, larger, stronger, more defiantly buoyant than the dick I swung at nineteen! I liked it. I liked it a lot!


"Ah! I see you're responding quite nicely. So? Would you like to give it a try?" Nathan asked, playing at the zipper on the collar of his white skintight jumpsuit.


Looking at his stunning, if emotionless features, I assumed he'd have the perfect cock When he pulled down his zipper to crotch level, it was indeed a perfect specimen of manhood. A long, sleek, up-curving model, it throbbed witl1 a growing red impatience to get off. Below it, two sex-swollen orbs. From the state of it, it must've been hard quite a while. The tapered crown wore a clear sword of ooze.


"You like it? You like my dick, sir?" he asked, wagging it seductively, with no hands.


By instinct, I latched on to it. With a slow stroke, I realized it was uncut. It excited me. It had an antiseptic whiff about it. But I liked it more as I rubbed it, and it became a different cock when the skin slid over its corona. I spat in my palm and moistened the turgid, still growing schlong. It was a generous-sized dick--maybe nine inches, long, slim, but curiously thick at its base. The more I stroked Nathan's whang, the more my mind began to change: No. It should be bigger--ten inches, at least. And cut. Big, cut, and ten inches, like mine, with an overgrown plum head. No veins at all. Just big, throbbing capped meat. Yes. And the balls--they should be even larger. Large enough to feel them jolt my cheeks each time that dick fucks me. I want it hairless. And for a change of pace, I want it Black. Yes. A large, capped, thick Black dick!


I pressed my mental <Enter> key and there it was, transforming before my very eyes into the very dick I'd wished for. But it was far too imposing now. So much so, I didn't want it up my ass.


But my lips latched on to that dick like the gluttonous earthling I was. Swallowing most of the burly black shaft, I wagged my tireless tongue along the vein-less hub. I grabbed those big brown nuts and sucked them. I masturbated the jutting span of cock, rigorously over my face.


"If you wish to suck me, you may do so 'til your heart's content. However, please be advised this weekend should be solely centered on the roots of your pleasure, sir."


He was right, of course. I let go of his perfectly formed cock-piece, and he fell before me. Scooping up my raging rod, he commenced to suck the frantically hard cock with a slow, hot swirl, his head skipping up and down. I held on to the mold of his bald dome and led him into a rhythm suiting us both. He made not one single slurp but surged down on me in a rush of trembling suction. Suddenly, I knew this weekend would be hotter than the storms of Neptune!


He led me to a clear Lurex table where, naked, I sat first. His aluminum jumpsuit fell to his feet. Gripping the base of my virtually enhanced cock, he squatted down, holding his cheeks, pulling his pink fuck-ring wide open for me. I felt him touch down on my dick-head. His hot, tight puckered butthole parted and he swirled as my knob burst through with an audible swoosh.


"Oh!" my guide grunted, just the way I'd wanted him to, as human steel and skin began to rake through him. He lifted himself high, and slid down low, as the squeezing crush of ass hole and swerving cheeks took full ownership of my dick.


"Oh! Nathan, yes! Buck on my dick!" I never said the words. But he knew I wanted it, needed it quick, and intensely. And so he rocketed his chute along my sturdy missile with a furious speed. I could hear his perfect cock smacking soundly against his belly and thigh with wild, fleshy beats. Yes, I supplied the hard, stiff dick, but Nathan, my guide, was clearly fucking me!


"You're close, aren't you, sir?" he asked, frantically flailing his ass against my meat.


"Y-y-yea. Ye--yes!" I finally heaved.


"You can cum in me, on me, or any way you please ... Don't worry about safety; this is a virtual weekend. Everyone will be perfect," he sighed, working his hips quickly.


Pulling my prick free from the bucking cave of his asshole, I chose to cum on his perfect face. With a few quick jerks, I erupted in a splatter of blazing seed that riddled his perfection with glistening white spurts. I didn't think it was possible, but he looked more beautiful in my cock-sheen.


"You're every inch a stud, sir," he panted, looking down at my gooey, yet still violently hard dick-meat. "Yes. That's some slab of manhood on you. I'm sure to be sore for days!"


He said all the right things, with just the right amount of sincerity. I only hope they paid him well. With a trail of my cock-sap running down his face, Nathan's dick pointed straight at me. As I looked at it, wondering how it would look shooting, he seemed to read my mind. In the blink of an eyeball, the fucker bounced and fired a spectacular load of jism at my feet.


Yes! I was going to enjoy this weekend. And it was only Friday!


Nathan then led me into a room called Ferocious Fantasy. Inside was a fifty-foot-high steel wall filled with holes. As we approached, hundreds of cocks magically appeared. Beside each cock was a picture of its owner. But I didn't quite understand the concept. Not until Nathan explained: "You see, from a single strand of hair, a clone was made of the owner's manhood. Each phallus is connected to a stunning reanimation of the original stud in question. Some of the most prized pieces in the history of man can be found here. See? From old film stars to astronauts, kings, heroes, presidents. We feature he such historical figures as Don Juan, Peter the Great, and trust me, it's as good as real, because it is real. Also you'll find Jeff Stryker, Johnny Wad, even Walt Whitman, if you like the more poetic, intellectual dicks. It's a museum of the best. The very best. Any one or all of them can be yours."



Initially, the sight of all those dicks in various states of arousal freaked me out a bit. I wasn't ready to make that leap ly into all of history at once. So I retired to my room, and to a hunky, well-endowed Swede who gave me a full-body massage. His name was Sven. Cool. Nordic. Majestic in frame. My wish was his deed.


After my massage, I fucked his throat. Not hard, but steady, with a smooth cadence as I pushed deeper to his wet cock-thirsty gullet. He sucked me with the sliding wet precision of a man who'd been sucking for centuries. But when my eyes zipped quickly over his face, it had changed! The man sucking me off was no longer Sven. It had the deep and masculine planes of a hot Spanish face. It refused to even grimace as he sucked me. Took a while to realize, as he consumed my pulsating dick-meat, he was also busy fucking another man's ass, Nathan's ass, simultaneously!


"Who are you?" I gasped.


His moist lips left my cock just long enough to answer. "Don," he said. "Don Juan."


His hair was jet-black, so shiny I could see my own reflection. His eyes were like sharp velvet stones. Those lips. They were wet as can be, tighter than a virgin asshole and hotter than a fucking volcano! I'd read of him in history books. Pleasure, giving and receiving it in an infinite variety was his legend. Suddenly, I knew the secret to his legions of lovers: his penis. He was a terrifically well-hung cannon of a man. Hung beyond belief. It was ruining Nathan's tightness with every slice. I could see him stretching Nathan's asshole. Don Juan, indeed!


When he was through battering Nathan, he waved that thing at me. There it was, shooting out from his groin, like an arrow. Or, was it Eros? Soon, I was face-down, and deeply, soundly invaded! God! I thought my anus would explode from his girth! Felt like he'd forced some instrument of medieval torture through my gut! As he began to fuck, crackles of electric friction sizzled within my being. Yes. Don Juan was quite athletic, but notoriously quick of passion. I don't think he lasted more than ten minutes thrashing headlong up my fuck-hole. But--oh!--what ecstatic minutes they were!


On Saturday, I awakened with a hard-on the size of a booster rocket. Didn't matter I'd been fucking my brains out for the last twelve hours; I was ready for more.


I left my room and gravitated to a place they called the Inner Space Room, a vast planetarium of stars, planets and constellations--very Star Wars. I was strapped into the bucket seat of an antigravity chair and whirling around the stratosphere. Suddenly, my cock was grabbed and sucked off for the umpteenth time! Only this time, it was lacquered by the hot lips of some gliding stud in a space suit with a serious Neal Armstrong complex. As this floating silver creature touched down on my slippery cock-head, my eyes rotated in my skull like satellites! But then, I looked to the right, and I saw him. Him, the first man of my dreams, was hanging out on the side just watching me.


He was that first god! The first cock to rock my world. He was that long-thighed, boulder-calved monster, lover and thief who took my ass, gonads and heart by surprise. Yes. It was him!


Let me try and explain. Imagine that first guy, uncle, man, neighbor, coach or teacher that got you rock-hard. Remember him?  Well, for me it was Adam. I remembered him that way I remembered my first taste of milk chocolate. He was the first man to sink down on my meat.


But if Adam was a part of this Virtual Weekend, then was Adam real? I could be sure of nothing anymore. It was a scary thought. One phrase kept drumming through my active brain: "Automatic. Push button. Remote control. Synthetics. Genetics. Command your soul!" Words from prophetic men in the 1970s of the twentieth century. The "Black Poets" they were called. They'd predicted my plight, the world's plight. And so it goes: "Automatic. Push button. Remote control. Synthetics. Genetics. Command your soul!"


Enough of Adam. My dick volcanoed with a wicked blast of lava. A wet, white lunar shower sprayed all over Mister Spaceman's headgear. He floated away, dissolving into a dot amid the starry cosmos. My cock remained a rebelliously hard, persistent thing, heaving from the Milky Way glistening in my lap.


My first thought: Hey!--I've got a hard dick that's working overtime! A proton-driven cock that just won't stop! Adam! Adam will love it. Adam didn't even know my cock at nineteen! Dick--let's find Adam again!


Searching the endless corridors of men and boners, live sex acts, disembodied moaners and groaners, I could not find him! There was a sign that said "This way to the Short-Order Floor."


Inside the electrified den, I was pulled in by the musky magnetism of dicks. Big long dicks. Bigger thick dicks. Cut and uncut dicks. Incredibly swollen nut bags. Obese, almost grotesque shafts. One slaps my thigh; another punches my belly as I move through this gauntlet of cocks. It was my first real look at the clientele. In the year 2999, seems like race no longer exists. There is no race but the human race. No definitive Black or White, Brown or Yellow. We have all crossed and intersected gene pools to become these beautiful, if slightly varied shades of burnt sierra. Eyes and hair color and textures vary to some degree; and cock-shades may show subtle signs of original ancestry. But as a whole, we are a breed of beautiful mutts.


My feet led me to a room of famous and infamous pricks. One suspended cock punching out from a large hole caught my eye with its violent size. Next to it was a photograph of an ancient twentieth-century comedian. "Who knew that ol' guy running around Beverly Hills being funny and bad-assed had a twelve-inch schlong?" the man standing next to it asked me. He himself was naked, and holding a thick, fully hard cock.


"You never know who'll get one," I said. "It's pretty fat, too. And full of long, gnarled veins."


His penetrating jade-green eyes were cool, yet his gaze was hot enough to make a gay man melt and sizzle into oblivion. Oh!--His skin was that luminous Every-Color: Part olive, part tan, with subtle bronzed dustings of cafe au lait. He was tall, maybe six-foot-four. My eyes crawled over his nakedness, inch by inch. He was lean. So fucking appealing, and hairy. Twenty-first century men were rarely hairy; and that black mess of wires sweeping his torso, shoulders, belly and fanning out along his crotch--it really turned me on. And his dick. He was slowly fisting one of the biggest, furriest cocks I could possibly imagine.


So there we were, talking about the disembodied prick of a long-dead comedian, when it occurred to me that, excluding Nathan, this was my first real conversation with anyone. Sad. But it seems conversation has become a lost art in 2999.


"I knew him. Many years ago. But I was young, and he wasn't. He couldn't get it up anymore," the stranger said sadly. "But it was so magnificent to look at. I really miss looking at it. "


Just my luck. My first conversation in this place and I'm talking to a lunatic! He "knew him"? Yeah, right! The man lived over a thousand years ago! This guy standing next to me was thirty, thirty-five at the most. But, not wanting to upset him, I decided to go along with his delusional flow.


"Well. It's certainly hard now. Aren't you going to suck it, for old times' sake?" I asked.


"No. I'd much rather suck yours," he said, glancing down at my dick that would not quit.


The insatiable quality of my erection was such that I could not deny any man (lunatic, not withstanding) the pleasure of sucking it. It wavered without being touched, and he fell to the ground, inspecting it like a surgeon--or more like a urologist.


"Mmmm!" Crazy or not, his mouth felt immaculate! With the warm glaze of his tongue, I felt my dick-skin hum! I pumped that mouth as his hot, revolving tongue spun around the shaft. Slow and methodically, he sucked, rising up from it to utter more ridiculous tales between sucks. As my meat slid back into his moist throat, I wondered: Who the hell is he talking about! Maybe I should run. Just haul ass outta here! But--ahhhh!--his tongue, it's working such slick magic! And then he skated his tongue along my nipples. He wasn't just licking or sucking them. The man was making slow, torrid love to them! He was pulling at my glutes and fingering my hole, and--oh!--I could've easily erupted. But then he stopped and moved back to my throbbing, bobbing, leaking cock.


Seeing the excited length of his prick made me want to return the favor. We both fell to the floor. Oh! His dick was a long, uncut instrument of immense seductive powers. Before I knew what hit me, I was face-down on the floor, ass poked high, and ready for that first raw stab of him! At least, I thought I was ready. But: "Oh! Awww! Ohhh! Ooooh!"



That long, hard seductive dick tore up my anus. Every cock punching out from the walls bounced as he buried that prick to the hilt up my burning asshole, and I let out a piercing groan! A string of jism instantly formed at the tip of my piss-hole. His penetration made me want to crawl into a fetal ball as I held his tremendous hard-on deep in my bowels. It was stiff as steel, crowding my walls and filling me up! Once he pulled back and fucked, it worked its way up my crack with bone-hard exacting thrusts. The blunt head, that endless shaft caused me to gasp and slobber. Caught up in sliding heat and throbbing friction from him, I cried out, "Fuck me! Yes! Yes, fuck me, Adam!"


It didn't seem to bother him that I called him Adam. This was my virtual wet cream, anyway. As the shaft kept pushing through, the cocks all around us wagged from their holes. I lay there, writhing to the dick slicing up my asshole, beating my meat in that charged cock-filled environment. The pole scissored and sliced my gripping chute and I came! Came in a wash of lust, and mad gushing excitement all over him.


His name turned out to be Jonas. His seriously green eyes were set in a face of obscene masculinity. He possessed the body of a demi-god, and the mind of a madman. He claimed to be--get this--two thousand and twenty-five years old! He swore that, with a strict macrobiotic diet, relinquishing all unhealthy vices, combined with vigorous sex and daily exercise, all men could enjoy such a prolonged life span.


He was a trip, and we spent most of that day talking and fucking. Somewhere, in between a thrust of his cock, the smash of his balls, and his rambling on about Julius Caesar, I began to believe that he'd lived this long and fucked two thousand years worth of mankind. After all, in 2999 anything could happen. Right?


Needing to rest my sore ass, and busy dick, I left Jonas. The last image floating through my mind before I passed out, was of Adam. When I awakened, it was ...


Sunday: I was convinced that the sighting of Adam in the planetarium was a figment of my sex-charged imagination. My outstretched cock knew it was our last day to play and didn't want to waste it lying in bed. I stepped into the hall where a litter of buffed naked men lay, like strewn confetti, after a ball-busting New Year's Eve.


Hello! Last night was New Year's Eve! It was now the year 3000. As I turned the corner en route to the virtual sauna, I ran into this half-naked man. I looked, and it was him! Adam!


"Lance? Lance! You horny bastard! Where the hell have you been? I've searched between the legs and assholes of most every guy in this place looking for you!" he said, embracing me.


Inside that embrace, I was fine-tuned to his every muscle, breath, and shift of his cock. Yes!


"I thought you were a trick of the mind! How are you? Where have you been?"


"Fuck that! Time's almost up! Let's get reacquainted," he insisted, pulling me into his suite and straight into his humongous waterfall shower stall. I fell before his hot, wet and familiar body. I popped those big dangling balls in my mouth. As Adam's cock lay slung across my hot face, with the curve of my tongue, I spun along its spongy knob. The whole fucking shaft elongated and throbbed as I ran my tongue up and down its boiling base. I opened wide and ingested his thick, pulsating cock. The tight-skinned head pushed for my windpipe. Some men might choke, spit out the husk of bloated meat. But me, I sighed, "Adam! It's you ..."


"Of course it's me, Loopy! Fierce is right here, big, hard and throbbing!" he said, panting.


He called me "Loopy," and I knew he was real. "Loopy" was Adam's pet name for my dick because of the wicked curve in the middle. I called his "Fierce," for obvious reasons. In bed, out of bed, in public, we were "Fierce" and "Loopy." We were always crazy like that.


I wanted to drown in the juice spooling from Adam's dick. Fierce was huge, thick and erect as ever. As it emptied a trail of hot jizz on my tongue, I pulled those sweet cheeks apart, and massaged them. I rattled in and out of his piss-hole, knowing that drove him wild.


"You still suck so well," he says. "But look at your fuckin' cock, man! This place is great, huh? Every man should be allowed to walk around with a raging hard-on. That way we'd all know what we're up against. So ... can Loopy still fuck like the old days?" he grinned.


Adam turned, revealing those water-splashed mounds. That tight, perfect bud of his pucker, called my name. With one steady slide I was in, tight. Tighter than I remembered, I squeezed his ample globes around me. Mmmm! His asshole was so warm and snug, my twitching cock spasmed in it. He pumped those cheeks against my flesh and I felt his colon throb! Yes!--I'd located his central nerve spot!


"Shit! I missed your big fucking cock. Feels even bigger, harder than I remembered. Fuck me!" he groaned.


The mad intensity of his grip caressed and released me in a way that told me I wouldn't last long inside it. Slowly, his hips churned as I burned and plunged fuck, fuck, fucking him with everything I had! I literally felt my dick growing hotter, hotter inside the blazing walls of his asshole.


"That's it. Take it all! Ride my fuckin' dick, man!" I howled.


Reaching up, I gripped his heaving chest, twisting his quarter-sized nipples, erect. Moving in, I dragged my tongue along his neck, hands moving down his rippling abdomen, his hairy nest of cock-hide. I grabbed his raging meat and flogged it as my thrusts grew harder! My nuts slapped with mean urgency back, forth, scorching that ass with hips, balls and dick!


"Oh! Fuck! I love it! Oh! Give it to me! Yes! Yes! It's the best ever! Fuck! But, but, whatever you do, Lance ... Just don't cum inside me," he warned in a whisper.


But it was all too late. My body jimmied. I slammed him hard, and then I unloaded my wad in a shudder. Rope after rope of it up his clenching anus as I held on to his dick for gravity!


And then ... Smoke! Smoke and sparks. Wafts of smoke filled the shower stall. It was shooting out of Adam's asshole! Billows of thick, choking smoke! And Adam--well, he just collapsed.


Buzzers sounded. Loud, piercing alarms sounded everywhere! What the fuck was going on?!


Burly, naked men dashed into the suite. Men with a mission, holding yards of glowing fire-extinguishing equipment. I was lost in the fog and smoke of hoses and cables and plugs--oh, my!


"What did you do, sir? Did you cum inside Model XLX-215? Tell me you didn't cum in the ass of Model XLX-215! Of course you did! You must leave immediately!" one scolded.


I was promptly kicked to the curb for soiling one of their prized Robotic Love Studs. Damn it! I thought it was Adam! He seemed so real. At least until the very end. But then, so did most of my wild adventure there in that high white complex in the sky.




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Any images, writings or other content on this website may be copied for personal viewing only.
They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
nor used for any other purpose without the express written permission of the artist or KirwanArts.com.