Greg, 47, has never much enjoyed life. Never really fitting in, always a step behind, always forgettable. He had learned to put up with that and trudged on. We meet Greg as he returns to his small, comfortable house after saying goodbye to his Grandad at the hospice. They had been very similar and Greg had found him a comfort when things had gotten bleak for Greg. When Greg was alone with him, his Grandad had removed a chain from his neck and given it to Greg, saying he mustn't put it on until he got home. It was a simple silver chain with a black teardrop crystal pendant. And then things would get better. Greg thought that last line was the ramblings of a dying man, until he put the necklace on. Suddenly all of Greg's wildest fantasies weren't only in his head.

Chapter 3: Throwing Neck

Greg mirrored the image on the phone perfectly, his white shirt falling open as he pushed his trousers down, and the man’s own device clattered to the floor, forgotten in his haze of desire. He raised his legs, ankles still bound by the fabric, exposing a perfect, soft, pink hole, already slightly gaping and glistening with moisture. The man groaned, a raw, animal sound, and fell to his knees, sliding across the short space to bury his face in Greg's asshole. His tongue was a hot, wet point of contact, licking and spitting, kissing and covering the entire area with his whole mouth, sucking at the tight ring of muscle until it bloomed open under the relentless, intimate pressure. Greg’s reactions were a calculated performance, part genuine shuddering pleasure, part giving the man exactly what he craved, his whimpers guided by the amulet’s deep knowledge. "Please, sir, please I need to suck your cock," Greg whimpered, his voice dripping with feigned desperation. The man stood with a big, stupid grin, flopping out a long, thick dick, hoping to impress, and Greg acted suitably amazed, widening his eyes as he took the cock into his mouth. He pretended to struggle, gagging theatrically before relaxing his throat and taking the full, salty length deep, playing the man like an instrument, making sweet, erotic music with his submission. "Please... please... would you please fuck me?" Greg asked, wide-eyed and innocent sounding, before turning to kneel on the chair and push his ass out in offering. The man coughed up a large, thick wad of phlegm and spat it onto Greg's pulsing hole, using it to slick his path before lining up his cock and sliding right in, growling in pure ecstasy. He fucked with a dominant, pounding rhythm, but Greg controlled every gasp and clench, until he pleaded, "Play with my nipples, please, I'm so close," and the man obediently pinched and twisted the sensitive nubs. That was the final trigger; Greg came with a sharp cry, his channel clamping down violently on the man's dick, milking a deep, guttural groan and a flood of hot cum from him. After a few moments, the man's seed already seeping from his used hole, the man fell back into the chair, spent and closing his eyes. Greg quickly dressed and left, the powerful illusion fading the second the door clicked shut behind him, returning to his desk as if he’d never been gone.