Masturbation Monday #43
Been a while but I was inspired and so I am actually taking part in this week’s #MasturbationMonday, Michael’s David. As you’ll know due to changes in UK laws I have been trying to be careful what new images I host directly on my page but I got inspired and after all this image is art.
Readers – check out the different posts to find something that makes you want to get off.
It had always been one of my favourite pieces. Michelangelo had somehow managed to make cold stone seem so alive, even after so many centuries had passed it still looked like he could shake off the clay and step down from his plinth at any moment. I couldn’t believe my luck when the museum director gave me the job of taking care of him. Cleaning, checking for damage, and upkeep would all be entrusted to my hands. Michael’s David would be mine.
I would start when the museum closed for the day. Pulling over the platform so I could reach him, twice as tall as any real man he seemed more like those ancient Greek gods captured in stone. First I would check over him with a magnifier looking for any new marks, afterwards I would run my hands over him, feeling carefully for any new imperfections. It’s a slow laborious process focussing on the feel of the marble beneath my fingertips.
I am surprised by how warm it always felt, if I let my mind wander I could almost believe I was touching flesh, hard and unyielding but warm and smooth. I’d start my checks around his head, and work down from there. Checking over the definition of muscle on his chest, the bulge of muscle on his arms. Feeling the implied strength in the length of his fingers. His thighs slender and toned, like he would have been a runner. His feet strong, his toes curling to hold onto his support. He felt so alive to me that no matter how many times I’d done it I would always feel a creeping awkwardness when I had to check his most private parts.
One night, I’d gotten a late start and everyone else had left. It was just me and the guards, who were hidden somewhere in the depths of the security offices. As I stroked over David’s finger I could have sworn I felt it move, thinking it must be damaged I looked closer, and felt around the join but finding nothing I put it down to my imagination. This happened a few more times, and I wondered if I was distracted, and should consider finishing up tomorrow. But I hated to leave the job half done.
It was when I got to his cock I realised it wasn’t me. As I ran my hand over it I definitely felt it move, and looking down I could see it growing. I froze, my fingers brushing over it as it swelled to fill my palm. I looked up his body watching the white marble turning to bronzed flesh. I’m torn between disbelief and awe. The logical part of my brain says this can’t be happening, the rest of my brain is telling me it can feel the heat of the still growing cock in my hand. My hand which without me thinking about it is sliding up and down, enjoying the feel of the warm flesh. I look up again, to find the heat has reached his face and David is looking down at me, his warm brown eyes like melted chocolate as he smiles at me.
He places a heavy hand on my head, stroking my hair, his fingers smoothing through it. He isn’t applying pressure but the weight of his hand is pushing my head down. I drop my head and find my face in front of his cock. I am amazed by how much it has grown (and, you know, that a stone cock could grow at all), and I have to stretch my lips wide to slide them around the head. I flatten my tongue trying to make room to fit in more of his cock as I slide my lips towards his stomach.
I can’t take any more, and have to pull back, sucking on the head, and flicking my tongue around the tip. He groans and I feel the vibration of it travelling through his body, and the plinth. He’s so big I have no hope of fitting him all in, so I wrap my other hand around his shaft, pumping him as I suck the tip. I expect it to take longer but in no time he is gasping, his cock throbbing and I know it will be soon. As he comes I feel as much as I hear his shout of release, his hand lifts from my head and I drop to my knees, the reverberations making me unsteady. I lift my head, shaking it as dust falls from my hair, and I look up to find Michael’s David has returned to stone.