The Hourglass: A Gothic Erotic Tale

It’s a Saturday, and I’m horny as hell. I live alone, and I have nothing to do, so I figure I’ll watch porn and jerk off at some point. But it’s a beautiful sunny day, so I decide I’ll go for a walk first.

It’s when I pass by a yard sale that I first set eyes on it.

It’s on a table cluttered with all sorts of stuff, and an older lady is sitting behind. I’m immediately drawn towards it.

‘You’re interested?’, she asks. ‘It’s an obscene old thing. Can’t stand it. It was a present to my late husband from a friend of his. I’ve got no idea where it comes from, or how old it is.’

I pick it up. It’s a beautiful, tall, old-fashioned hourglass. It has a dark wooden top and bottom. The glass is a little dusty, but I’m fascinated by the sand inside. Because it’s black. As black as midnight.

‘I have a bit of a thing for time pieces’, I explain. ‘I collect clocks and stuff like that. But I’ve never seen an hourglass like this before. It must be volcanic sand or something’. Then I see the carving on the wooden top, and I laugh. ‘Wow. I see what you mean by obscene!’.

There, etched into the wood is what seems to be a goblin-like figure. It crouches, with a crude grin on its face. But most striking is its cartoonishly large, erect phallus. ‘It’s all a bit strange’, I say, thinking it might be some pagan symbol of fertility. Time and reproduction, sex and death and all that.

‘I’ll take it.’

She is happy to sell. In fact I get it for much cheaper than I would have thought for something that felt so solidly made, possibly even antique. I’m happy as I walk home.

On the way back I pass behind an attractive girl I’ve noticed many times before in the neighbourhood. She’s wearing a short skirt, and I watch her hips swaying and start to lose myself in a dream. I imagine following her into an alley, pushing her up against the wall. I slide my hand up that skirt between her thighs. I whisper softly in her ear that she’s a good girl, as I grope around the lining of her soft panties. She moans in pleasure, and as I curl my fingers under I find she is already dripping wet for me.

I feel myself begin to get hard, so I quicken up the pace home.

I wasn’t lying about the time pieces. I’ve got a collection of various unusual clocks which no longer run, but my pride and joy is a beautiful working grandfather clock in my hall. It ticks loudly, which some people can’t stand, but I find the constant marking of time somehow reassuring. I’m used to it now and would miss it if it stopped.

At home, I look at my new acquisition. I know that hourglasses vary in duration, but this looks large enough that it probably last the full hour. So I decide to test it. I note the time, and up-end it. The smooth black sand begins to flow. I wonder where on earth this thing came from.

An hour hasn’t yet passed before I’ve eaten some lunch, and my mind has wandered back to the girl. She has the most beautiful full lips, lips you would die to touch. I’m still feeling horny, so I go to my bedroom and put on some porn. I find a scene I’ve watched a hundred times, with a thin brunette who looks a bit like the girl I’ve seen. She’s getting fucked hard from behind, and she wails like a banshee. I love it.

It’s been a few days since I’ve jerked off and I know I won’t last long. What sends me over the edge is when she cries out ‘Oh God, oh God, I’m cumming’, her hands scrunching up the bed sheets till her knuckles turn white.

My wave of pleasure builds and I quickly arrive. In spasm after spasm my load shoots out.

But something feels different. And when I look down at my cock, I cry out in horror.

I run to the en-suite bathroom, and I stand over the toilet. I’m still cumming. The orgasm isn’t stopping. But that isn’t what terrifies me.

My cum is black.

Pitch black.

My legs are shaking as this dark ejaculate slops into the bowl, gushing out of me again and again. ‘What the fuck is happening’?? I think, and even as I struggle to focus with each wave of pleasure, I begin to panic that I might need urgent medical help.

Then suddenly, after what feels like an eternity, the orgasm stops. I sit down in disbelief, trying to catch my breath. I put my hand on a drop of black cum. It doesn’t smell like semen. Stranger still, I realise my balls feel full. I’m still horny. I’m not in a refractory period.

I’m stunned. This was something deeply abnormal. But it felt amazing. I’d just had the longest orgasm of my life. How long was I even cumming for, I think to myself.

I look at the time. And that’s when it hits me.

I must have stopped cumming around the precise moment I had expected the hourglass to finish.

I walk over and sure enough, all the sand had all passed through. I gaze down again at the carved grotesque figure, with his singular endowment. His smile looks slightly demonic now.

It can’t be a coincidence, I think. Somehow this hourglass has allowed me to draw from a well of ejaculate far greater than any I had naturally inside me, and still I felt the pleasure course through me as if it were my own. It’s a miracle.

And the hourglass can run for up to an hour.

I laugh out loud, hardly believing what’s happening. If this is what it seems to be, I think, it might be the best purchase of my life. I’ve hit the jackpot.

But I’m still unsure. First I have to check my system isn’t damaged. I scrutinise my private parts as closely as I can. Everything looks fine. Everything feels fine. I scour the internet for any mention of hourglasses that somehow affect sexuality. I find nothing.

So I do another test. I masturbate again, without touching the hourglass. In no short time my regular white load comes out. It all works fine, although my regular short orgasm feels kind of disappointing now.

I decide to give it a few hours before trying the hourglass again, just to be sure no side-effects appear. In the meantime I wash my black-stained bed sheets and the floor. I have a plan: I will try out the full potential of this amazing find in the bathtub, unplugged. At least there, an hour’s worth of black cum can easily drain away. Is it really is possible I can release that much? I’m excited and nervous to find out.

It’s dark by the time I sit myself naked in the bath, and I light some candles, just to heighten the occult atmosphere of what I’m doing. I have a smile on my face as I hold the hourglass in one hand, and I slowly start rubbing my cock.

The only sound is the constant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

I think of the girl, and those ripe lips parting around the head of my penis. Teasing me by licking it gently, working her cool hands up the shaft. ‘Do you like that, Daddy?’, she says. ‘Can I please have your load in my mouth Daddy?’.

I see no need to delay, so I rub harder. I lift the hourglass to the ledge of the bath as I near orgasm, holding it just below its point of inversion. The second before I go over the edge, I flip it.

Immediately, a shot of warm black cum splashes across my face.

I collapse in the tub, coal-black glistening liquid squirting all over me. It shoots around indiscriminately, the flow doesn’t let up. I groan in ecstasy as it pours down my sides, pools underneath me. It’s wetting my hair and dribbling onto my lips.

I’m in heaven. I’m swimming in a pool of exquisite pleasure, infinitely dark and infinitely deep. I’m cumming and cumming and cumming and I have a full hour ahead of me.

The pleasure is so great that I start to shake. I raise my arms unsteadily to shift my position in the tub, and I barely notice it graze something before I hear the sound of the hourglass smashing on the hard bathroom floor.

Immediately I feel a profound wrench inside, and the orgasm stops dead.

I try to get up. But I realise to my horror that I cannot move a muscle. I remain in the bath, and it seems I am utterly paralysed.

What has happened? My mind feels clear, I’m alert, and I’m not in pain. But why can I not feel myself breathing?

I become dimly aware that something else has changed too. With a sense of rising panic, it dawns on me what it is.

Pure silence.

The clock has stopped ticking.

First I feel its long leathery fingers curling around my face. Of course, it is here. I have used its spell, but I was careless. And this power is the demon’s, not mine.

I cannot even close my eyes when it lifts my limp head, and I see in abject horror that it has taken on the face of the girl. Those pretty full lips smile down at me, as it slowly works my mouth open. Crouching over my rag-doll body in the tub, it places the tip of its long, rigid phallus between my lips.

I understand now that outside of this moment, time is still passing. The clock is still ticking. But this creature has set a trap, and ensnared me. In its dominion of stopped time, I am forever at its mercy.

I soon feel the first gush of its warm black cum begin to fill my lungs.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/lm5z75/the_hourglass_a_gothic_erotic_tale