Bonk (ManxBoy) | sequel to Rubber

Episode 3 - Ripe for the bonking

NOTE: You might see characters like ʊ, í, ô, é and â, which I use to spell out the words fʊck, díck, côck, pécker, and âss. I do this because not doing so will make the chapter private. I don’t like putting up private chapters just for people to follow me. It just doesn’t feel right. And also, the use of graphic language is a blip on Wattpad’s discerning radar. Nobody wants that. It’s...disturbing. And the consequences are undesirable. Trust me. I know. So, please enjoy. It’s the last episode. It’s time to hear Calvin scream. WAHEL-OH-EL!! ^^

Episode 3 – Ripe for the bonking

Butterflies.

Hundreds of them.

It’s what I feel in my stomach.

They’re most likely pollinating right now.

I may already have a habitat for them in my gut, with all of them fluttering about.

I’m smitten. That much is obvious. And not only am I physically attracted to one Calvin Schmidt. I also deeply, madly, and irrevocably want to fʊck him too. Crude, I know. But I really do. I really, really do wanna fʊck the kid. Perhaps fʊck him till I die. Morbid. But that’s just how intense I feel about doing Calvin, making love to him, with him, on him, him on top of me, every which way I can. What I want is to make a deep emotional connection with him.........using my díck. Okay, fine, with my heart too.

I know it can be annoying, but I text him almost every hour when we’re apart. And whenever I don’t get a response right away I frown. I get a sinking feeling in my heart, thinking to myself that someone else might be entertaining him, sharing his laughs, his smiles......the love in his heart.

I’m becoming obsessive. I know. But I just wanna claim what is mine. Not that it’s been said between us that we own each other. But I’m assuming that we are somewhat exclusive. Like a couple. And in that respect I know there should be a fair amount of trust involved. And I trust Calvin, I really do. It’s just that I can’t help but feel that he might run off to some random guy and do an experiment called popping the cherry.

No. I don’t want that. I should be the one who’s going to burst his cherry.

Yeah. Not just pop.

Burst.

Burst his cherry.

The thought of popping his cherry is already so delicious I can almost taste it at the tip of my tongue. I wanna tongue him. Tongue him so good his eyes will roll backwards.

I’m so horny for Calvin that my skin is the only thing holding me together, the only thing that keeps my arousal from spilling like a river. Prick me with a needle and I’ll probably burst into a white hot puddle of jízz. Creamy jízz.

Over the years, sex with random strangers is not something I always find palatable. I’ve had fʊck buddies. Few are too quiet. Some are too loud. Most are an acquired taste—it’s either they’re too sweet or too seasoned for my liking. But Calvin...Calvin is different. He’s special. He doesn’t fall in any of those categories. He’s far too delectable a dish not to consume. He’s the perfect piece of meat I want to mate with. Like I said. Palatable.

I had bonked a long list of people before Calvin. And that day when I told him that I’ll make him cry—in his own bedroom—in three years’ time—I part of me was counting down, counting down the days to when I might finally settle.

I know he and I haven’t established complete physical chemistry, but I’ve a hunch that he could be the one for me. The perfect fit. Snug. Snug like a condom. I can already feel being inside him, snug like wearing a rubber contraceptive.