Standing at the edge of the road, admiring his work, Marok watched as the flame spread out across the rear of the house. Orange flames climbed up the back wall to consume the dry, unprotected wood walls. He sat on the grass, Brother resting behind him on the front lawn. Leaning back to use the horse as a pillow/bench, they watched the crops and the house burn.
Not long into the watching, Marok slid a hand into his pants to stroke himself nice and slow. The house would take a long time to burn, giving him plenty of time to relish the event. When his pants were too much in the way, he opened the laces to enjoy the cool night air.
Rats and mice, skunks, opossums, spiders and centipedes fled in all directions except the fields of flame. Snakes slithered away as fast as they could. Marok could see their tiny life forces. A family of bats fled through a tiny hole the roof as the fire rose to the second floor.
Marok watched as flames engulfed the entire roof of the house, outlining its shape and reaching far into the sky. Windows blew out, their violence heard from his distance. The best part, when the extreme heat caused various reactions within. An oil keg exploded in the basement. Smaller pops of oil lamps exploded in various rooms. Stacks of firewood in each room went up, including the long cord of dried and drying wood along the side wall.
He gripped his cock tighter in his fist, stroking slow and long, mind completely fixated on and enraptured by the house as overwhelmed with flame as it could get. The warmth of the immense fire reached him. Not hot enough to burn skin or singe hair but enough to make him sweat in the cold night.
Flames lit the night as bright as the sun at noon, illuminating a radius of half a mile. Birds fled nearby trees. People in the distance came out to watch from the safety of their own houses. Townspeople gathered in their second floor windows to watch the fire. He felt their curiosity, their satisfaction at knowing whose land, whose house, was being destroyed.
The smell of burning grain, burning wood, burning meat of any food supplies inside the house or the attached cold larder. He knew there were no people or pets inside. They’d all escaped in the first minute. Buckets of water weren’t going to put out anything. They didn’t even try, were standing on the other side of the drive in front of the house, watching it.
Marok had always found the dancing flames of a fire highly erotic. Fire was a living thing. Consuming, breathing, leaving waste behind, even reproducing if the wind carried burning debris to another field or a forest. Fire was sexy as fuck, the only lover who possessed his heart.
He loosened his grip to reach his fingertips into his pubis mons, to the deepest root of his cock, and slid far out to pull his foreskin over the head. A grunting sigh of intense pleasure, a strong pulse in his hand, the surge of thrill tingling under his skin, causing the hair on his arms to raise and a slow chill to work its way over his shoulders to his scalp. He exhaled long and slow, calming himself to keep control. There was a lot of burn time left and he didn’t want to pop off prematurely.
Flames whirled all through the grain crop like a stage of naked slaves in a dark banquet hall. A row of flames danced atop the roofline of the house, reaching their naked arms into the sky, swooping their heads and hips to their own music. He kept himself slow, prolonging his pleasure as long as possible, wanting to time his finish with the pinnacle of the burn.
The warmth of his flesh in his hand, softness of skin, coarseness of hair around testicles as he reached with his other hand to grip his sack. He needed a shave. Veins underneath skin, felt by thumb and fingers. Familiar lumps and bumps along his stiff rod that he knew how to slip over and around to keep himself hard as long as he wanted without the concluding act.
Two hours into his attentive self-pleasuring, he heard the telltale creaking of the roof weakening. The structure was starting to collapse in on itself. Watching with wide open eyes, he stroked himself with increasing speed. As the peak of the roof caved in, he moved up onto his knees to bring himself to his explosive finish. His ejaculate shot out two feet in front of him, landing in the grass with series of plops and drops. He stripped himself time and again until he had nothing more to expel.
He shook his cock to throw off the last droplets and fell to his ass on the ground to lean more heavily against Brother.
“Fuck that was good,” he sighed, and crossed his ankles to take a nap.
Excerpt from Marok: Rogue Deliverer, to be released later in 2021.
Read his origin in Arlyn the Deliverer and continued adventure in First Queen of Unada.
TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written three “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty eight fiction books.
Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2
You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828
She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.