Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love (6 page)

Freshly-scrubbed
from a quick shower, Edgar carried a heavy-laden plate of food to
the living room. Breakfast today consisted of a huge, six egg
omelet filled with cheddar, onions & peppers, two rectangular
hash browns and twelve slices of crispy bacon with a tall glass of
orange juice. He left the two blueberry muffins in the kitchen;
saving them, and the cold milk, for dessert. Settling on the sofa,
tray in his lap, he dove into breakfast. The enormous meal was gone
in twenty-five minutes and Edgar returned to the sofa with the warm
muffins, slathered with rich butter, in one hand and a frosty glass
of milk in the other.

Whatever made me the way I am, I'm damn
grateful I don't have to spend eternity counting calories. Being
immortal isn't so bad, really, once you find a coping mechanism for
watching everyone else grow old and die. Harsh, true, but reality
is reality. Hobbies are good, too; without interests, even a mortal
life would be boring. It makes you cut out things - and people -
that just aren't worth your time. When all you have is time,
there's no fucking point in suffering. Hell, everyone could benefit
from that outlook, in my opinion.

Of course, some things never change and some
form of bullshit always pops up, like this ridiculous legal action,
but you still don't have to let it run or ruin your life. Speaking
of, I should be hearing from Evans pretty soon. I'd feel sorry for
the bitch if she wasn't trying to fleece me; I think Evans gets his
rocks off on taking people down. I sure as hell haven't figured out
what floats his boat. He's not a bad looking guy, either; I
wouldn't kick him out of bed. Then again, I make it a policy to not
dip my pen in the company ink and it'd be a helluva lot harder to
replace him as a barrister than it would be as a bedmate. Which
reminds me, I need to call Maddi. But first, these muffins need my
attention.

A short time later, that attention given,
Edgar stretched out on the sofa pondering which call to make. "Eat
the crust first," his mom always told him, meaning "get the less
enjoyable task out of the way so you can enjoy the sweet." However,
experience told him that if there was news to be had on the legal
action, Evans would already have called. Decision made, he
instructed the HC to replay Maddox' message, listening for any
nuance that would give away the young man's intentions. Nothing
jumped out at him, so his next step was to tell the HC to call
Maddox. As the computer placed the call, Edgar chuckled, thinking
again of his mom's wisdom. Certainly, Maddi was a sweet piece of
pie, one that Edgar would love to eat someday soon.

The sweetness in question wasn't available
and Edgar left him a message. "Hi Maddox, it's Edgar. Thanks for
calling; I'm sorry I missed you. I remember you from Wizzer's
party; it was a great time, wasn't it? Give me a call when you get
a chance; I'd like to talk about getting together sometime soon.
End call."

Hmmm. I guess it's phone tag; or, as they
call it today - comm tag. Same difference. Anticipation just makes
the game more fun. The next move is his, though I hope he makes it
soon. I definitely wouldn't mind a doing what that daddy did at
Wiz', though without the extra hands on deck, or dick in this case.
I don't mind groups, or audiences, but it'd sure be nice to be
alone with him. It's one thing to let loose with a group, but
there's not much personal interaction, just huffing, puffing and
blowing the shit out of each other. He's so shy one-on-one, but
what a dynamo when he finally gets comfortable. Hell, I'm gettin'
boned up again, just thinking about his sweet ass.

Edgar's soft cock was lengthening. He leaned
back on the sofa, stretching his long legs out, slightly spread
apart. He reached down with his right hand, slowly tugging on his
swelling member, tweaking a nipple with his left. He sighed as his
cock reached full erection and dipped his hand below to gently cup
his full balls, rolling them around slowly.

Ahh... So nice. Wish it was Maddi's
tongue... God that would be fun. I'd love to dive into his bush,
too, though. And that ass; oh man, that ass! I couldn't dream up a
hotter ass in all my wildest fantasies. Oh well; he's not here now.
As they say, a cock in the hand...

"Computer," Edgar called, bringing one leg
up, pseudo-Lotus, "access porn files. Play
Royal Dreams
,
scene 3, beginning." The HC chimed and the viewscreen came alive,
the image of a shining marble throne room as it would've been in
ancient Thraxian times filling the shot. This particular scene was
one of Edgar's favorites; no matter how many times he watched it,
he couldn't make it to the end of the scene without climaxing.

Onscreen, the camera panned to a lone figure,
the Thraxian Emperor, seated on his throne. The man's azure robes
were open at the front exposing his muscular, hairy chest and
washboard abs. A small treasure trail of dark hair led to a full
bush over an uncircumcised cock of a full six inches flaccid. He
looked about the empty room, seemingly bored as hell. Sighing
heavily, he reached for a velvet rope beside the throne and tugged
it hard.

Edgar smiled as his own cock twitched,
leaking a drop of pre-cum. The scene was about to heat up. A young
man, twentyish to the Emperor's forty-something, trotted on camera
wearing a skimpy cloth around his waist. He bowed low before his
Emperor, blonde locks falling over his forehead.

"You summoned me, Your Highness?" he asked,
rising.

"Yes, Page. Your Emperor is bored; I require
entertainment." The look that accompanied the emphasis let the page
know exactly the type of entertainment desired.

"Yes, Highness," the page replied, kneeling
again but much closer to the throne this time. "If it pleases you,"
he said, lifting the older man's growing cock to his eager mouth,
pulling his foreskin down as he did so. His tongue flicked out,
teasing the sensitive spot where shaft met head before encircling
the thick mushroom with his lips.

The Emperor's head lolled back against the
throne as he sighed, "It does; it pleases me very much." The camera
panned to the side of the throne, showing the younger man's head
bobbing gently up and down the top third of the Emperor's
thickening cock.

Edgar's hand was once again on his cock,
thumb slicking the head with his pre-cum. He squeezed his shaft
hard, forcing more of the clear, sweet juice to leak out. He licked
his thumb clean, enjoying the taste of his own fluid and began
slowly stroking himself with a firm grip.

The Emperor, meantime, grabbed a handful of
the boy's hair and was forcing him ever farther down his impossibly
huge cock. The page took it, eyes watering slightly, jaw stretched
almost to the limit. Every fourth stroke, the older man pulled the
page all the way off his spit-slicked rod before roughly shoving it
down his throat again. This went on for a good five minutes,
Edgar's hand on his own cock picking up speed.

Finally, the boy was nose-to-pubes and the
Emperor let out a loud cry of pleasure as he held the boy firmly in
place. The camera panned in close, showing the page's throat
working around the massive invader. Unable to hold back, Edgar
gasped as his orgasm ripped through him. He shot so forcefully the
first volley landed on his lips and he greedily licked it off. The
rest of his load coated him from chin to navel. His breathing
ragged and hoarse, he ordered the film stopped just as the Emperor
was pulling the page to his feet and bending him over the throne.
He sat, head thrown back, as he came down from the heights of
orgasm.

After he cleaned up, he checked the time.
Edgar decided he'd knock out a freelance piece. It wasn't due for a
few more days and he hadn't planned on working today, but thinking
about Maddox left him more wired than he expected. Even after
jerking off, he still had an excess of energy and writing was
always a great way to burn it off.

When Edgar looked up
from his work, he noted the time. It wasn't unusual for him to lose
himself for hours in things he found interesting.

Six fifty-eight? Wow! This is gonna be a
great piece, if I do say so myself; but, it's time to call it a
day. I love it when a piece comes together like this one. The
client's a good guy, too. It doesn't hurt that I like the subject
matter, either. Then again, what's not to like about hydroponics?
With most of the available land taken up by people, hydro
revolutionized farming. Take that, Nancy Reagan; without all us
eighties stoners, hydro wouldn't have become so big and we'd
probably have starved ages ago. Let's see, gotta meet Jace in a few
hours; plenty of time for a nap and a light meal. Immortal I may
be, but drinking on an empty stomach is a sure path to a bad
night.

Edgar stood and stretched, loosening his
tight shoulders. Getting lost in his work meant for some great
writing, but the downside was tight muscles. A few more quick
stretches and his shoulders were sufficiently relaxed. "HC, set
wake up alarm for eight p.m. and lights off," Edgar called out. The
computer chimed, confirming the alarm as the lights winked out. The
only remaining illumination came from the east-facing window at
Edgar's desk. The dim evening light was perfect for a nap.

Edgar grabbed the fleece throw from the back
of the sofa, wrapping himself in its soft, warmth and snuggled on
the sofa. The caress of the tan fleece against his bare skin
instantly relaxed Edgar and moments later, he was fast asleep.

An insistent chime wormed its way into
Edgar's dream. He stirred slowly, resentful of the interruption.
The dream was particularly erotic, involving a threesome that
included Maddi and a lightly-furred Ch'oran, a feline-like alien
with the ability to orgasm a dozen times in the course of a
two-hour romp. This, Edgar knew from first hand (and mouth and ass)
experience. The dream left him with a raging hard-on as well as a
small pool of pre-cum overflowing his navel and soaking the
fleece.

As consciousness returned, Edgar realized it
wasn't the alarm chiming, but the comm system. He was instantly
awake, knowing the call was either an emergency or Evans. Wiping up
the sticky puddle with the wrap, he queried the home computer,
"Identify caller."

The HC responded, "Caller identity: Barrister
Evans."

"Put him through," Edgar said. The system
chimed and Edgar spoke into the air. "Evans. Good evening. Thanks
for waiting; I was napping."

"Good evening, Mr. Aeternum. Not to worry; I
apologize for waking you," the barrister's crisp British accented
voice filled the room.

"No bother, Evans. You know I don't mind. I
assume you have news from Altair Legal? Or, am I being sued by yet
another aspiring millionaire?" Edgar joked.

"No new actions, sir; unless, of course,
you've something to tell me?" responded Evans, an almost
imperceptible trace of humor in his voice. Edgar recognized these
moments as the closest the barrister ever came to a joke.

Edgar chuckled and said, "No, nothing new.
Believe it or not, I've been behaving myself."

"The exception to the rule," said Evans.
Edgar smiled, realizing the suit must have been dismissed and
Evans' retribution had likely been swift as well as merciless. The
normally reserved man only made such quips after exacting nasty
vengeance on a deserving victim.

"Point to you," Edgar said with a laugh.
"What news do you have then?"

"The action was dismissed and the young,"
here, the barrister paused, "lady was fined for filing such a
frivolous complaint."

"Bravo, Evans!" Edgar congratulated the man.
"Not that I'm surprised; it was a frivolous complaint and I do have
the best barrister around. I assume we won't have any future
problems from her?" Edgar asked. He'd learned this was the best way
to inquire about his barrister's unofficial actions. The man closed
up tighter than a nervous virgin when questioned directly. He
shared only a small bit of this information and only when
approached properly. Edgar respected this, given his own propensity
for secrecy on some topics.

"No sir," Evans answered. "She will soon find
herself otherwise occupied offworld. Apparently, the bank made her
an offer to clerk at a branch on Tyranus 6; she's scheduled to
leave in two days. She was highly motivated to accept the position.
Of course, she'll have no access to any of your information."

Edgar knew the woman's motivation likely came
in the form of a private conversation with an agent responsible for
offworld recruiting for Dissa. The colony was the polar opposite of
Genesis, almost entirely devoted to hedonistic exploration. It was
also fairly lawless; her recruitment opportunity was probably for
one of the sex clubs. The pay was high, but no such things as
limits were allowed for the workers. Obviously, she knew what
awaited her there to choose Tyranus 6. That colony was only twenty
years old, quite young. Life there, as on any colony younger than
seventy years, would be hard. As in frontier, Wild West hard.
Colonists were a hardy lot, generally wanting to rough it. They
could have it as far as Edgar was concerned.

Her employer must be the colony's financial
backer for Evans to have been able to seal her fate so quickly.
Even Evans had limits, though he was as close to a miracle worker
as Edgar had ever seen. "Well done, Evans," Edgar complimented the
man. "I appreciate your expediency."

"Of course, sir. You're most welcome,"
replied Evans. "Unless you have further need of my services, I
shall let you get on with your evening."

"I can't think of anything," Edgar said.
"Thank you again. Enjoy your evening, Evans."

"I shall, sir. I hope you do the same. End
call." The unit chimed and Evans was gone.

Edgar checked the time and shook his head.
Seven forty-five. He loathed waking before the alarm's chime to
find it was almost time to get up. Nevertheless, the call was
important and he was happy that the case was closed. He hadn't been
worried, really, but the legal system in the 2-4 was just as fucked
as it had been in the twen-cen and there was always the remote
chance of an unpleasant surprise.