Mister Mister

By agingathlete1953
published July 11, 2019

Mark gets topped by a body part and expands his sexual horizons in the process.

Mister Mister

It was summer and light from the early sunrise was just beginning to softly illuminate the bedroom where Mark lay sprawled out on his bed, naked except for a pair of white briefs. He was still asleep, but already his morning wood caused the head of his cock to peek up from under the waistband of his Hanes, lying flat against his toned stomach. The man was crossfit lean, not overly bulky, but with gentle muscular furrows that softly delineated his toned physique and revealed well-developed abs. His dark brown hair was trimmed athlete short and a two day beard growth along with his close-cropped cut clearly defined a Spartan-like helmet of hair that wrapped around his head.

Mark was a writer and, with no restrictive work schedule, he enjoyed waking each morning to sunlight—this morning was no different as he languidly came into consciousness, stretching his body slowly as he emerged from a good night’s rest.

“It’s about time you woke up!”

Mark startled as he heard a small, but forceful voice with a slight sibilant lisp to it. He pushed himself up to a partial sitting position, now waking fully, looking wildly about his bedroom, since he lived alone, for the source of the voice.

“Down here you moron,” the tiny voice said, seeming to come from his waist. Mark stared down at his crotch, afraid to move, and saw only the bulbous head of his fully tumescent cock poking out from the waistband of his briefs. “It’s me dumb ass,” the little voice seemed to be yelling now, “Mister Mister!”

That was when Mark saw the small movement of his piss slit synchronized with the voice. He suddenly had the urge to jump out of the bed and run, possibly to a psychiatrist, but his body would not obey, he was frozen like a statue reclining on the bed.

“Mister Mister?” he asked timidly with a frightened squeak.

“That’s what you named me, not my first choice.” This is when Mark realized that the the voice was clearly coming from his piss slit, which moved like a pair of grotesque miniature lips.

“Oh, so you think I’m gross? I can read your thoughts boy. From what I’ve seen, all your lady friends have found me very attractive—attractive enough to put me in their mouths.”

“Whaaaa…what do you want?” Mark asked incredulously.

“What did you just say?” Mister Mister replied menacingly.

“What do you want, Sir!” Mark asked again, not sure what his relationship was anymore with his penis.

“That’s better. I want a blow job and you are going to give it to me.”

Mark was shocked, but like most men, he had watched dogs licking themselves and envied them, but this was different.

“No, Sir! That is not going to happen.”

“Wanna bet? Go fetch your yoga mat and get these briefs off.”

Mark resisted, but like a puppet without strings he reached down mechanically and slid his briefs off. Then he got out of bed and got his yoga mat from where it stood rolled in a corner of the room.

“Now lay the mat out and get on it,” Mister Mister commanded.

Mark unrolled his mat and then knelt on one end like he always did at the start of a yoga class. Now Mister Mister was pointing out from his groin at a 45º angle, as stiff and turgid as ever and even though he was mysteriously under the control of his cock, Mark had a ferocious urge to urinate.

“Uh, Sir? Do you think we could take a whiz? I’ve got to go something fierce.”

“Damn bladder, such a wuss. Yeah, go pee.” Mark got up and went into the bathroom, ready for his usual morning acrobatics of peeing with a woody, but that didn’t happen. As he stood in front of the commode, Mister Mister magically lowered down to point into the bowl and then the flood of Mark’s piss poured out right into the center of it.

Mark sighed as his bladder emptied and after he was done Mister Mister said, “Ahhh, that was good. I like piss almost as much as cum—now get back on that mat!”

“Yes, Sir!” Mark scampered back to his mat.

“OK, now get into dwi pada sirsasana pose.”

“Sir? I don’t think I know that one.”

“Are you the dumbest fuck on the planet or what?” Mister Mister yelled.

“Well, Sir, I only do yoga because of Maria,” Mark explained, talking down at his dick that was now pointed at his head, “I really don’t know any of the details.”

“Jee-zus Christ, boy. Don’t you pay attention in class?”

Mark snickered, “I pay attention to Maria’s ass, Sir, those Lululemon’s she wears are damned near transparent!”

Suddenly Mark shrieked “Ahhhhhh…!!!” as he felt a sharp pain in his balls, like one of his buddies back in HS had just nut-tapped him from behind. He would have doubled-up, but he still couldn’t move.

“Thanks guys,” he heard Mister Mister say as he gasped in pain, “it’s not easy to keep this boy’s attention when he’s thinking about his girlfriends.”

“Sir, were you just talking to my balls?”

“Well who-the-fuck do you think I was talking to? You are such a dim-wit.”

“Can they talk back?” Mark asked meekly, amazed at what a potty-mouth his dick had.

Suddenly Mister Mister started laughing, “Boy that is funny! They don’t have a mouth, so how could you hear them?”

Then they both heard a deep, sonorous voice, almost like a man with thick, moist lips would talk, saying “What the fuck is going on up there?” as Mark felt like he farted.

“Shut up, YOU!” Mister Mister yelled. Then Marks ass, which it didn’t take a leap of brilliance for him to figure out was who spoke, said, as Mark farted again, “I just want to know when I’M going to get some. I never have you know.”

“Look, you stinky fuck, if you keep quiet I might have Mark finger fuck himself after I get off.”

“Oh wait,” Mark cried, “this is just getting a little too gay for me, please don’t do this.”

“Boy,” Mister Mister explained, “every man is just a bit ‘gay’. Shit, I don’t even know what that means, but we’re wasting time, let’s get you into dwi pada sirsasana.”

Mark was compelled to lean back on his arms and bring his legs out in front.

“Uh, Sir?” Mark asked as he leaned forward and grabbed one of his legs at the ankle, “What kind of pose is this?”

“Legs behind the head pose,” Mister Mister explained, “now shut up we have to concentrate.”

Mark began to panic, “LEGS BEHIND THE HEAD” he thought wildly to himself as he grabbed an ankle and began to lift and twist his muscular leg up. He was panting now and was in fear of either breaking a bone or tearing a tendon as he had never been able to come close to this sort of pose.

“Ahhh, that’s it, boy” Mister Mister said soothingly, “just relax with the flow and breathe deep.”

Mark was amazed as he was able to lift his leg to where it was behind his neck, no cracking, no fiery pain of a tendon snap. Then his other leg went up, his feet crossing and locking together behind his head. Looking down, Mister Mister was just inches from his mouth.

“Ok boy, you know what to do!”

Mark opened his mouth as Mister Mister, a huge glistening drop of pre-cum having formed at his mouth-slit, inched closer. Mark had often sampled his pre-cum when he wanked, didn’t every man? He also knew the taste of his spunk because many of his girlfriends insisted on a long, deep kiss after they blew him—as if validating their deed by making him taste it. He pushed his tongue out and lapped the droplet off Mister Misters face.

“Yeah, you got it,” Mister Mister exclaimed happily as Marks mouth engulfed him. “Oh my god,” Mark thought, “this is just incredible!”

Now Mark got into his own blowjob, licking and sucking madly as he felt Mister Mister making a tiny vibration, as if he might have been singing or humming in there. Then he watched as his balls, now huge, pulsating and engorged with lust, slowly rose to park on either side of Mister Mister’s base. He felt the cum begin to rise in him as well, and he made a deep animal growl in his throat as he felt spurt after spurt of his own jizz hit the back of his mouth as his orgasm peaked and then subsided.

He continued to lick and suck himself, inwardly amazed that he had just given himself the best blowjob that he had ever had. Mister Mister grew limp and withdrew slowly from his mouth. Mark found that he was able to move again and slowly pulled himself out of the pose, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Mister Mister now lay limp between his legs.

“Sir?” Mark said, “that was just great! Pretty gay, but then again, just great! Was it good for you?”

Mister Mister didn’t respond. “Is everything OK, Sir?” Mark asked. Still no response. Mark cautiously reached his hand out and pulled Mister Mister up to where he could see his piss slit. It looked normal, his dick was normal, nothing. After a few minutes of waiting Mark got up and ambled into the bathroom to shower, wondering if everything that had happened that morning was just a dream.

Mister Mister now hung limply between Marks legs as he stepped into the shower. What Mark didn’t see was the tiny smile.

The End

Author’s Afterword: I saw an article where they discovered by survey that a large number of men have given a name to their penis and, like most men, I have always envied the flexibility of dogs when it comes to the notion of autofellatio. This sparked the idea for a mind/body control story. I doubt that I am the first to think of this theme, but I will say that I have never seen it in a story, so if there is any similarity to any currently out there, it is purely coincidental. There is a video out there where a penis sings “It’s Time to Party” and that inspired me as well. Men tend to have something of a cavalier attitude towards their cock, so I decided to make it a top. They are pretty much in control of our lives as it is, no?

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