I have had sex with every actor from the TV show “Supernatural.”
What follows is an account of each erotic event accompanied by a letter grade.
I met him while working at Zales Jewelry in 2014. I was cleaning a display case when I caught a wild movement in its reflection. It was Jensen. He was distressed and besotted by some physical fit. I put down my rag and went to him. Caught up in a kind of standing seizure, his legs and feet were firmly planted but the upper half was flailing and out of control. Yellow foam gathered at the right corner of his mouth. I almost went back for my rag but decided against it—his movements were too erratic, and I feared injury attempting to dab the foam.
A girl in my health class junior year had an epileptic seizure and we were told to give her space and let it pass. This was different, but I used the memory as guidance. I quickly moved semi-precious items from the counter to prevent any damage. I took off my sweater, which was a thick alpaca, and draped it over the sharp edge of a display case. I almost ran for my friend John, who worked at a watch-repair kiosk close by, but I decided to maintain calm supervision.
After a few minutes whatever overcame him began to dissipate. Slowly his arms ceased to helicopter. His eyes began to open cautiously, and I noticed they were brown, which is my favorite color of all time. I did not recognize him. I have never seen the show “Supernatural” but know all about it because I have had sex with every cast member. Jensen looked at me with the expected mix of embarrassment and gratitude, but there was an extra ingredient I couldn't quite place. We were strangers, but he had just undergone a full-body emergency right in the middle of my Zales. He loosened after a moment when he was sure the convulsions would not repeat. I smiled at him and tried to do so without pity but with a general, easy kindness. It did not seem to register: He cast his eyes down, unmoving.
I went back for my rag. When I returned, I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and offered it to him. He did not take the rag but instead took my hand from his shoulder and brought it to his mouth. He used my finger to dislodge the crusted foam from each lip corner before jamming it inside. Taken aback, I instinctively tried to pull away, but he bit down slightly, enough to keep my finger in place. I used my rag hand to try and pry his mouth open, and somehow within this scuffle he trapped the ring and pinky fingers inside. Stuck, I almost screamed. My rag had fallen to the floor. I reeled my head back to call out but was suddenly washed over with a warm stillness. It was as if he had arranged us in a sacred geometry. Any tension I had in my body fell away. Time crawled, I arched back, and he brought his hands to mine.
I was no longer in the middle of my shift at Zales. The entire mall seemed to vanish around us until just he and I remained. Jensen cupped my stuck hands at his face and drew them closer. Slowly, but without any strain, he took every one of my fingers down his throat. I felt no pressure from his jaw. His mouth gave without effort and kept giving until he had taken me to the elbow on each side. The arrangement should have brought stress to my joints as well, but I felt no such thing. I seemed to be pooling, my flesh arranging seamlessly as he gathered me deeper still. Slick, he sucked me up to the shoulders before widening—until the crown of my head was too pulled in.
Miraculously, I could see. My eyes open, I saw each tender vein of his esophagus as I made my way further down. His teeth gently grazed my back as he swallowed, easy still until stopping at the belt of my jeans. This was the only point of tension. I felt him navigate the buckle with his tongue and bottom incisors until it unlatched. My denim fell away. Briefly, I imagined it meeting my rag on the floor. Brought back to the moment, lit as if by some divine headlamp, I continued to slide and watched as I entered Jensen's upper stomach.
This area was more populated. Big folds and craters, like zoomed-in ground beef, some slightly taken up by food in various states of digestion. I was beyond smell, beyond comprehension even, but still somehow fully present and lit up by feeling. My body was now fully ingested, arms and legs outstretched and every limb straight out like a spear. My dick grazed the ridges of his stomach as I made my way through. I began to harden and pressed myself into him. Noticing this somehow, he sent a response, a low hum that reverberated through whatever cavity I inhabited at that moment. The vibration heightened my arousal. I was glad for it. I greedily pressed harder as I swam, calling out for more. Each time he echoed back.
The feeling reached a fever pitch somewhere in his abdomen. Hard still, but dull and full of blood with no sensation. I opened my eyes, which had been closed with pleasure and did not recognize the anatomy. But I knew where to go, where he wanted me. Somehow Jensen was instructing me, lighting my path in ways unknown. Guided through unfamiliar tubes and atria, I arrived at his balls. I didn't know exactly how I got there, but I had full knowledge that I was inside his sack. Through this knowledge or Jensen's permission, my arousal returned.
With my senses back, I called out once more and was met with a new hum. It coursed through me like a ton of bricks that clanged and rattled cum energy through every corner of my being. As the cum energy rose and spread through my body, so did the speed at which I traveled. I was tumbling wildly, nearly screaming in every possible way, through a thin passageway that loosened and constricted in perfect harmony with my desires. I was inside his dick now, and his hum turned to a scream that met mine. Formed into pure cum energy, I cascaded through his urethra like a great sloshing sea. Eyes still open, nearly bursting, I saw his meatus part and a sliver of my workplace outside. I shot out in what felt like pure fire, incomprehensible pleasure, one I was sure I couldn't return from after experiencing. But I did return, and quickly too, as I landed directly on my discarded jeans and cleaning rag.
Looking up, my everything a puddle, I met Jensen's eyes for the first time. Smiling, he wiped his brow with a shirtsleeve and turned to leave. I said nothing. I needed nothing. I felt spent forever. The experience was too singular, too intense to ever repeat or even acknowledge at that moment. I was shaken and glad to see him leave. Transformed inside but with a body back to normal proportions, I gathered my jeans over me and curled into a ball on the sales floor. I took the rag in my hand and held it close.
Stay tuned for next week.
does a subscription come with financial compensation for the therapy i’m undoubtedly going to need after this??
this is fake.. I’m skeptical that you willingly wear denim