Stan thrust into Kyle again, naked and thighs spread wide open beneath him. Kyle moaned loudly, nearing the point of no return.
"Darn it, Stan…" Kyle groaned. "Please?"
"Not yet, Kyle," Stan gasped, trying to lie still now, fighting for control over his body so he didn't come yet. They had figured out that this neat new trick they'd discovered a few weeks ago (during Kyle's 19th birthday fuck) worked a lot better if they prolonged the buildup to it for as long as possible.
Stan turned his head and looked at the poster of Albert Einstein on Kyle's bedroom wall. Einstein's absurd expression and his tongue sticking out of his mouth (almost as though he was watching them) usually managed to distract Stan enough to keep his orgasm at bay. He was close though, and soon might have to switch to the mental image he kept in reserve of Kyle's mom walking into the room and catching them in the act of Stan defiling her only biological child in ways she had never in her wildest dreams thought possible, perhaps launching into a lecture about safe sex or how they were going to hell for what they were doing under her roof while they scrambled to cover themselves with Kyle's sheets from her judgmental eyes—
"Stan," Kyle moaned again. "Geez dude…come on."
Stan nodded against Kyle's throat and shivered, withdrew slightly, and thrust again, once again hitting Kyle's prostate and making him whimper with need.
"Please…" Kyle whispered. "I can't wait much longer here."
"Just a little longer Kyle." Stan snapped his hips, thrusting again, and then lay motionless atop Kyle again, shuddering as he tried to hold himself back.
"Oh my freakin' God," Kyle moaned desperately.
"Not much longer," Stan whispered, breathing hard and struggling to control his body. He lay panting against Kyle's chest a moment longer and then pulled back and thrust again, and this time the sensation pushed him to the point of no return. Even if Sheila Broflovski actually walked through the door right now and caught them, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Fortunately, no one else was home.
"Okay," Stan whispered urgently against his super best boyfriend's neck. "Now, Kyle!"
"FUCK!" Kyle shouted loudly, crying out with sudden pain as his body convulsed when the Vchip implanted beneath his skull fired off an agonizing warning. Every muscle in his body clenched in galvanic response, including the most important one right now, the one surrounding Stan's cock in an already impossibly tight grip. Stan shuddered at the sensations surrounding his dick and came in a mind-blowing spasm, moaning loudly at the feeling of Kyle's electrified ass.
"Shit-drenched Caesar salad!" Kyle cried as Stan pounded into him relentlessly now. "Cat piss tacos!" His Vchip fired two more times in rapid succession, and Stan practically screamed at the sensation as he buried himself as deeply into Kyle as he could.
Kyle came a moment later, splashing both their chests. "Shitty ass rash," Stan managed to whisper through his own ongoing orgasm, his body jolted by his own Vchip and sending a wave of pure pleasure into Kyle's prostate. "Fucking oh and three Denver Broncos!" He cried out as his body was wracked with another convulsion and his cock transmitted surges of ecstasy directly into the middle of Kyle's pleasure center. They moaned into each other's necks, no longer swearing for fear of actually hurting themselves or each other.
When it was finally over, Stan collapsed on top of Kyle, both of them breathing heavily as their aftershocks finally wound down. Their gasping turned into shuddering laughter a few moments later as they clung to each other, kissing desperately even while searching each other's eyes for signs that either of them had actually been injured by what they had just done.
For a few moments, the fact that Kyle's mom had caused millions of 'impressionable young people' to be implanted with a device designed to stop them from cursing, that they learned later couldn't be removed without a high risk of death or irreversible brain damage was forgotten.
"'Cat piss tacos?'" Stan whispered, the jolt from his chip barely registering with him anymore after firing off four times in succession. He burrowed his face into Kyle's shoulder, snickering at Kyle's choice of profanity.
Kyle laughed against Stan's neck. "I'm running out of new things to say, Stan."
Stan snickered, carefully pulling himself from Kyle and curling up contentedly alongside him. "You know, these Vchips have really fu—ah, messed up our whole way of talking to each other." He rested his head on his hand to regard Kyle. "But since they can't be removed, I think it's pretty cool that we found a way to make the best of it." He grinned. "But I think your mom would be heartbroken if she knew how we were using them."
"That's the only thing that's stopping me from blogging about it," Kyle replied, rolling onto his side to look back at Stan. "I think it's something the world should know about; maybe if I did it anonymously…?"
Stan moved forward to kiss Kyle's neck. "Viva la resistance, dude."
~ THE END ~
