[Hey folks! I just discovered this subreddit, and I’d like to share something I wrote recently if y’all don’t mind. It’s intended to be read aloud, but I think it works OK on the page too. Hope you like it! – PBS]
## “Make Me Cum With Everything”
Once upon a time, there was a monk who was very, very, very ugly.
You might be picturing an ugly person right now, but he was much uglier than that. His hair, if you could call it that, was composed of three dry strands that tried, and failed, to cover his otherwise bald head. He had a wart on his upper lip. His teeth were brown and rotting, and he had the breath of a small, dying animal. He was rotund, and low to the ground, like a gourd. And his voice was, to put it charitably, grating – a piercingly nasal whine that would rise to a shriek at a moment’s notice.
This very, very ugly monk did not appear to know, or care, that he was a hideous monstrosity. The village would often see him walking around the outskirts of town, having conversations with strangers and passers-by. The village, while finding him grotesque, also believed he was harmless.
One day, the monk heard some very interesting noises coming from some bushes near the lake by the village. It sounded like struggling, and it also sounded like not struggling.
The monk was immediately intrigued.
He took his walking stick and gave the bush a THWACK! striking something surprisingly soft. This soft surprise turned out to be a woman from the village, a young woman who only recently became interested in all things romantic.
“HEY!” she said. “Who’s out there?”
“IT’S THE MONK!” the monk shrieked. “I HEARD STRANGE SOUNDS FROM YOUR BUSH!”
“No, sweetie, that’s not what you meant to say– you know what? Forget about it.” The young lady stood up from the bushes, where she was in a state of disheveled undress. “Hello, Brother Monk.”
“Hello!” (The monk never knew people’s names. “Names divide us from the Buddha!” he would say, slamming his walking stick on the ground for emphasis.) “I was worried you were struggling! Is everything OK?”
“Oh, yes, Brother. It’s fine. I was just trying to get some alone time. I’m very… frustrated.”
“OHHHH!!!” shrieked the monk. “You mean SEXUALLY!”
The young woman was taken aback. “I didn’t think you… knew about sex, Brother Monk.”
“WHY? Just because I’m a MONK? That’s stupid. YOU’RE stupid. Don’t make me hit you with this stick again. Pray tell, in what writing, in what book, is it written that monks cannot know or understand physical pleasure?”
This was easily the longest conversation she had ever had with the monk, and was a little confused as to why he suddenly seemed so articulate.
“Well… nowhere, I guess. It’s just custom?”
“It’s CUSTOM for YOUNG LADIES not to FUCK THEMSELVES IN BUSHES, too! And yet HERE YOU ARE!”
The monk sat down on a nearby rock with a thump. He scrunched up his face and then, I’m sorry to say, farted.
“Have you had SEX yet, girl?”
“Yes, Brother Monk. That’s the problem! My lover is gone, moved away.”
“Is he the ONLY PERSON YOU’LL EVER HAVE SEX WITH???”
“Well, I… hope not. But he was so good. I’ll never find another like him.”
The monk harrumphed. “HOW MUCH sex have you HAD???”
The girl found herself blushing, although she wasn’t sure why. “Just with him, Brother.”
“I see.” The monk stood up. “You have a PROBLEM OF PERSPECTIVE.’ He then began, alarmingly, to disrobe.
“Brother Monk! What are you doing!”
“Seems OBVIOUS, stupid! We going to FUCK!”
“We are…?”
“YES! Unless you want to keep being frustrated and want to reject the most OBVIOUS SOLUTION POSSIBLE. Now, LET’S FUCK.” And then dropped his trousers.
The young woman found herself oddly interested. “OK, Brother Monk, you’re on.” She laid back in the bush and opened her legs. “Show me the path to the Buddha.”
And that’s exactly what he did. He was very, very, VERY thorough. Once he touched her, she melted – he knew exactly what he was doing. She lost herself, for a bit. Lost all sense of time, or place. She came, once, for a million years…or did she cum millions of times over?
It didn’t stop there. The boundary between everything – real and not-real, awake and dreaming, her body and her not-body, orgasm and build up. Everything – thought, touch, sound, sight, smell and taste – was an orgasm. Life itself was an orgasm, a explosion of passion that birthed countless worlds.
She, finally, understood nirvana.
He brought her, very gently, back to earth, back to her body. He whispered and laughed. He held her, she trembled. She opened her eyes.
The monk was transformed. He was like a shining light, and thing of immense beauty.
“Brother Monk… you’re beautiful,” she said, calmly, for it was true.
“STUPID GIRL!” screamed the monk. “I was ALWAYS beautiful! Only YOU have changed!”
And with that, and with his clothes mysteriously back on, he held out his hand. “Let me walk you back to town,” he said. “Perhaps you can ask the women in town about me.”
She wanted to follow up on that, but she was still getting her bearings. She took his hand.
As they headed back towards town, the monk said “It’s time you learned there are stories only women tell to each other.” And his laughter echoed through the countryside.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/azs8zi/make_me_cum_with_everything_a_monks_tale
Intriguing!