Page 23 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

I went to speak, went to formulate an answer, but my brain turned to mush. “You’re an asshole.”

“You are what you eat.” Milo grinned, waiting for my breathing to ease. Even on the phone with only my voice, Milo quickly registered my feelings, my mood, and he wanted to ease my temperament before continuing. “Hmmm, so you didn’t realize your personas and manifestations weren’t the same thing?”

“No,” I said very seriously, releasing my slight aggravation. “I don’t exactly spend a lot of time with personas, mine or others. Mostly, they dwell in the subconscious, and no one wants to dive in there.”

Occasionally, personas, images that folks painted for themselves, would appear on their surface thoughts, but they usually quickly faded away. We rarely spend enough time daydreaming about our ideal selves. The more time someone spent wondering who they could’ve been, the more depression seemed to cloud their thoughts.

“Do I have any personas?” Milo asked, truly engrossed by the topic, the idea his imagination and subconscious had made even more enchanting versions of himself.

“Yes. They’re quite awesome and possibly the only reason I tolerate you.” I smirked, just enough to savor the bubble I burst.

“Liar.” Milo ran his hand down his stomach and slowly slid it under the elastic of his boxers. “I can think of at least one real reason you tolerate me.”

The cockiness in his voice as he stroked his dick sent a shudder coursing through my body. I sucked my teeth, having a full view above him as he played with himself, hearing an echo of his breathy satisfaction from the room I floated in as a psychic manifestation and through the phone where his voice held this rhythmic allure that strengthened my concentration.

The pull I had for Milo was so strong, I’d forgotten my breathing in this meditative state. I’d forgotten to count, to focus, yet I still maintained a solid foothold in both spaces.

“I can’t hold this for long,” I said, explaining how I merely meant to check my memories connected to the manifestation.

“That psychic projection of yourself keeps you grounded, keeps you from breaking as your telepathy stretches out to reach me?”

“Yes.” I bit back a panting breath as Milo stroked himself faster, enticing me with his voice, with the warmth that spread across his skin, with the desire dancing on the surface of his mind.

“And you can see me clearly?” The song danced on his surface thoughts, clouds parting as his sunshine vision filled my sight.

“Yes.” I stared through my manifestation’s eyes, keeping mine firmly closed so that the dual sensation of viewing my bedroom walls didn’t splinter my hold.

“Well, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Milo teased me, tugging the elastic of his boxers to reveal his left hip fully but keeping the bulge of his cock tucked beneath the fabric. “I am curious, though…”

“About?” The seconds of silence felt infinitely long, like I’d never get an answer from those beautiful lips curled in the coyest smile a boy could make.

“Wanna test how long you’ll last?”

“Excuse me?”

“Maintaining that tether.” Milo playfully bit his lip, then brought his hand to his mouth, licking his palm and slathering it in spit in one quick motion before bringing his hand down to his crotch and playing with the head of his dick. “I mean, phone sex is hot. Facetime sex is hotter. But psychic sex has got to be the fucking hawtest.”

I descended toward the bed, where Milo slid off his boxers. I barely gave him a chance to untangle them from his ankles before I landed on his hips, straddling him in the guise ofa ghost. My psychic energy took form, filling him with the sensation of me. My body. My touch. My desire.

As he gained his bearings, I kissed him. Gently at first, light pecks across his chest, his arms, his stomach, his neck. Everywhere. I tasted him on my lips and wanted more. Craving his soft skin, his firm muscles. On the floor of my bedroom, I melted away and became engulfed by the scent of Milo, by his body heat, by my need to feel him entirely.

Milo quivered, enthralled by the kisses I left across his skin, but he couldn’t find me, couldn’t feel me more than the fleeting sensation here and then there, but he needed me everywhere. He wanted to grab my hair, yank it upward, and pull me into a kiss. I nearly leapt forward, granting that wish, offering him the kiss he desired, the pleasure, but there was something else he craved more.

I wrapped my lips around the tip of his cock, teasing and tasting every nerve with my tongue. Eagerly, I swallowed more, taking Milo’s throbbing dick deep into my throat. Goddamn, I realized even as a projection, reality sank in quickly, and I gagged as I took in Milo all the way to the base far too fast. His moan, though. Fuck. He sounded delirious with pleasure as my throat constricted around his cock, and I struggled to breathe, gagging as I moved up and down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Milo muttered, thrusting his hips.

He pumped slowly at first, relishing the sound of my choking breaths over the phone. When had that happened? I lost myself in his delight, in the faster motion of his hips as he thrust more quickly. His mind filled the empty air that he face fucked with my image. My teary eyes. My stretched jaw. My body pressed to his hips, grabbing hold as he pounded upward again and again.

But Milo wasn’t fucking the air. It was me, my energy, my manifestation, my psychic extension. I twisted the magic that danced around us, linking to his frequency as I’d done so manytimes before. Soon, Milo caught sight of the invisible projection; he saw the illusion of my image.

This only further enticed him as he gripped a handful of hair and pumped into my mouth faster and harder, keeping a steady grip on my head with one hand wrapped under my jaw as he used my face and throat to bring himself closer and closer to cumming.

As I choked on the phone, Milo groaned with satisfied authority, and I knew it was my longing that sent these sensations. I loved to please him, I loved to feel his passion, and I loved the feeling of gagging on his beautiful cock.

I savored every second, sucking in air when I could but mainly sucking Milo off. He kept a steady pace of fucking my face, bringing himself closer to a climax, and while every part of me wanted to give him that satisfying release, feel his body quake and collapse deeper into the mattress, I wanted to tease him more.

His bright blue eyes shot open when my image vanished. No longer could he see me on his hips, cock in my mouth. He couldn’t feel me either, the weight of my body pressed against his. I was there, though, a phantom of desire.

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