Chapter 5: Michiels true feelings
His toes sank into the fertile soil, while the delicate fingers of dawn's light reached out to him.
Unable to sleep, Christian found himself back at the farm at first light. The words of the fortune teller lingered in his mind as he approached the field where Michiel tended to his crops.
In her cryptic way, she'd promised him a clear answer about his connection with Michiel - but only if he remained patient and persistent. But here, in the soft glow of morning, he felt none of that certainty. Instead, he was overwhelmed by an urge to complete his painting - to immortalize the beautiful landscape that had captured his imagination and heart.
The sun rose higher in the sky as Christian brushed vibrant hues onto canvas. With each stroke, the lush green fields and imposing mountain range seemed more alive, pulsating with energy.
The contrasting blues and purples of the sky, blending seamlessly with the emerging orange horizon, added an extra spark in the painting. Every element of nature seemed to vibrate so vividly on his canvas, immersed in a sensual dance that felt both intimate and unattainable.
As the sun illuminated the landscape, Christian could barely contain his excitement. This was it. This was what he had been searching for. A scene so rich and captivating it beckoned him deeper into its mystery.
In the middle of his painting, standing between the ginger plants , was Michiel. The sunlight bathed him in a golden halo—the same kind found on the most renowned religious paintings throughout history. He wore sand-colored linen trousers that highlighted his toned thighs and buttocks. His muscular chest bore evidence of a morning well spent. It was as if Christian had rendered him there—invited the Dutchman to step out of the page and into reality.
Michiel's gaze reflected curiosity, yet hesitation.
He studied Christian, whose focus remained on the painting, but his eyes kept darting back to Michiel. The energy between them felt palpable, as if they were two magnets, slowly being pulled towards each other.
He looked at his watch 9AM. Shouldn’t Michiel be out working by now? Christian couldn’t wait to show him the finished piece. And.. if things were going well, he was going to show him the sketch from yesterday as well. Christian gripped the sketchbook tight as he wore it like a handbag with a sling attached to it. It was his most prized possession in Bali, containing sketches that were erotic fantasies and pure adoration for Michiel. Every stroke on the page overflowed with his longing, fueling the flames of his desire even higher. He knew the moment he presented it to Michiel would either solidify their budding relationship or burn it all to ashes.
Christian took his supplies and moved down the mountain. Towards the fields. He turned the cornor of Michiels farmhouse and there he was. Chopping some firewood.
Stepping closer, Christian studied Michiel’s imposing frame, a Viking from his wildest dreams, as a bead of sweat meandered down the farmer's chest.
Their eyes met, and Christian felt an inexplicable connection - a magnetic pull drawing them together. Michiel rested the ax on the ground, his face a tableau of surprise yet intrigue.
As if propelled by an inner force, Christian carefully unveiled his masterpiece, heart pounding against his ribcage. The painting captured the rugged beauty of the landscape, but Michiel was undoubtedly its centerpiece. Under Christian's watchful gaze, Michiel leaned in to scrutinize the canvas.
He studied the details, tracing its vast expanse with his oceanic blue eyes. Every stroke, every hue narrated a story of its own, breathing life into the vibrant landscape that captivated the hearts of both men. Michiel felt his cheeks grow warm with a rare vulnerability, touched by the delicate and sensual details present in every single leaf and petal.
"Christian," he murmured, gently touching the edge of the canvas.
His eyes flicked up to meet Christian's. "It's... extraordinary."
The sincerity in his voice made the days spent working on the piece worth it: capturing the ethereal beauty of this land, paying tribute to the man who'd captured his heart. It revealed a depth of understanding and appreciation he hoped to one day receive from Michiel, too.
"This is all just so surprising," Michiel admitted, fingers lightly brushing over the painted ginger plants.
A long silence lingered as Michiel continued to study the painting. I needed to break it before it gets awkward. “I could ask if they would display it at the tavern? They say you’re a regular. Everyone can know about the beautiful work you do here. An insight into the life of the mysterious farmer”. Michiel, a man of gigantic proportions in both body and heart, weighed Christian’s offer cautiously. His ruggedly handsome features creased as he mulled over the implications. Christian held his breath, fingers drumming impatiently against his side while he listened to the soft whisper of the wind through the palm fronds.
Michiel finally broke the silence with a measured smile. “I’m not really looking for any attention Christian.. I came here to be alone. Wouldn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention. But this painting.. It shouldn’t wither away in some local pub. It should be displayed in the greatest art expositions in France next to Michelangelo or Rembrand”. A cheeky, shy smile adorned Michiel’s face upon making the bold statement. Intrigued by the newfound depth of character behind his intimidating frame, Christian felt something stir within him. A spark—one he could not resist or ignore.
“Im already working on my next piece” Chris nervously unbuckled the sketchbook from his waist. As much as he wanted to ignore his erotic longing for Michiel, he knew it lingered between them like a living entity. Exposing these desires could either enrich their closeness or shatter the brittle bond they'd painstakingly fostered.
He slowly opened the book, revealing the sketches born out of his primal urges and artistic fervor. Michiel's eyes widened, taking in the carnal mastery displayed on every page.
His trembling fingers grazed over the exquisite lines, a symphony of unbridled lust and devotion. The sight of his own form rendered with such passion, made him feel vulnerable yet seen.
The sketches captured their earlier heated moments in the ginger fields, translating them into ink and paper. It revealed the primal energy that flowed between them - a magnetic force unleashed and unable to be contained within a simple border.
Then Michiel turned the page to last nights sketch. It showed a portrait of Michiel taking in Christians manhood. Each fine line and artful shade exuded sensuality, chronicling the eagerness in Michiels eyes and the reverence with which he took every inch. His tongue traced the contours of Christians veins as if devouring the essence of his lover.
Michiel studied the image wordlessly, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath a sheen of sweat. Every detail of the drawing spoke of worship, not merely lust or physical release. Christian had poured his soul into it, eliciting an emotional intensity that set a fire ablaze in Michiels soul.
The vulnerability in the sketch made Christian feel raw, open, and utterly exposed to this enigmatic giant of a man.
Michiel scrutinized the page before him, his blue eyes piercing the drawing with an intensity that turned Christian's stomach into a whirlpool of nerves and desire. Michiels large hand with its defined veins swallowed up the delicate page as he carefully studied each detail of the sketch.
With a loud thud Michiel closed the sketchbook. “I’m flattered but.. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea”.
Michiel said, handing the sketchbook back to Christian. The husky tone in his voice and the longing gaze in his eyes betrayed his true sentiment.
In that moment, Christian felt the weight of long-held desire bubble between them, a palpable tension that threatened to spill over as he stepped closer to the colossal man that stood before him. “Are you sure?” he asked, his breath hitching in his chest.
“Christian”.
Michiel hesitated, his oceanic blue eyes flicked up to meet Christian's, searching for the right words. Christian felt a surge of anticipation as their eyes locked and held for a moment.
"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea," Michiel began, his voice gravelly with restrained desire. "But I can't deny what I feel when I look at these sketches." He traced his fingers over the embossed cover of Christian's sketchbook, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a formidable man.
"I’m not ready to let people in yet. I came here to live in solitude. To be one with nature. I can’t give up on this. I’m not what you’re looking for”.
The disappointment hit Christian like a wave crashing upon the shore, yet the raw desire in Michiel's eyes never wavered. It was enough to keep hope alive in Christian's chest.
"Sometimes we don't realize what we truly want until it's right in front of us," Christian whispered, careful not to break the fragile connection they were building. He stepped closer, erasing the distance between them. His hands reached up to touch Michiel's chest, his fingers tracing the defined lines of muscle beneath the damp fabric of his shirt.
Michiel slowly pushed Christians hands away. “All my life, people used me for my body. I won’t let you use me again”. Michiel’s voice cracked as the weight of his past hurt came rushing forth. He backed away, leaving Christian standing alone in the middle of the farm, the sun now scorching above them.
Christian stood there in silence, eyes burning with disappointment and longing. “I’m not like them,” he murmured under his breath. Forced to choose between a budding romance and respect for the man who’d captured his heart, he opted for the latter as a small victory.
Michiel turned. “I was a model before all this. All people wanted from me was to flex for them, my relationships superficial. They all just liked the idea of my body using it for fame and attention. And Christian you’re no different. You see a muscular stranger for two second and decide I’m your muse? You know what I think, I think part of you just uses me to as material for your painting. I think you’re a twink with a bodybuilder daddy fetish. It all started with my appearance, didn’t it?” Michiel's accusation swirled within me, stinging like salt in an open wound. But what if there was some truth to his words? I had been drawn to him initially because of his physicality. However, that was not all there was to our connection. I knew there was so much more beneath the surface, and I was determined to prove it.
But for now, I had to respect Michiel's boundaries and allow him the space he needed to heal and grow. The sun beamed down relentlessly, yet its rays did nothing to warm the chill between us.
I watched quietly as the man I desired strode away, his imposing silhouette enveloped by the fiery orb.
Resigned, I returned to the nearby guesthouse, where my art supplies awaited. My thoughts churned along with every stroke of paint; memories of Michiel lingering like a stubborn ache.
I couldn't deny it any longer: this wasn't just about wanting to preserve his appearance in a picture - this was about craving him in every possible way.
Michiel's words echoed in my mind, and with each passing moment, they became more difficult to ignore. I realized that I yearned for him not only visually but on an emotional level as well. I longed to paint him both inside and out, capture the essence of his being on canvas.
As I stood there, enveloped by the tropical atmosphere of Bali, I admitted to myself that my desire for Michiel transcended the physical. I craved his touch, his laughter, his everything. My body ached with need and unbridled passion.
I screwed everything up. Had I shown the sketch too soon? I sniffled quietly at the back of the bar. Painful memories resurfaced as the alcohol's warmth ebbed and flowed through me. I felt so alone and lost, staring down into my half-empty glass. The local liquor stung my throat, but the suffering masked behind its bitter flavor was nothing compared to the longing that drowned me.
Feeling eyes on me, I glanced up to find a beautiful male figure leaning against the wall at the far end of the bar. A hint of longing flickered in his gaze as he watched me.
I swallowed the remnants of my drink, unable to ignore the thrum of heat resonating from my core. As I rose and approached him, his gaze deepened—an ocean filled with buried secrets.
"I'm Christian," I introduced myself, drawing closer until the distance between us was nearly unbearable.
He hesitated for a moment before gravelly responding, "Rahim." His dark eyes bored into me, sparking a carnal energy that charged the air with electricity. Before I could react, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close as our mouths collided like waves against the shore.
His lips tasted of cinnamon and smoke, igniting a wildfire in my veins as our tongues danced together. Our bodies pressed against each other like two continents converging in a passionate collision. Heat emanated from his skin, setting every inch of me ablaze with longing gone unexplored since Michiel's departure.
I looked up and down the local Balinese man , Rahim, who stood before me - dark hair and eyes, chiseled abs that gleamed under the dim bar lights.
Rahim was not the type I would usually go for. But my sadness regarding Michiel took over. I was ready to have some meaningless sex. Just to forget my troubles for a night.
I let out a sigh of relief as Rahim's hands roamed my body—confident, eager, and full of desire.
He pulled me close, our hips grinding against each other to the beat of the pulsating music in the club. The smell of sweat and lust filled the air as our eyes met, burning with fiery passion.
As he kissed me, his tongue probing deep into my mouth, I tangled my fingers in his thick, dark hair.
The bells of the tavern door interrupted our trance-like moment.
Michiel stood in the doorway, a single rose clutched tightly in his hand. The vibrant red of the petals contrasted sharply with his tanned skin.
But then he saw Rahim, our bodies intertwined in a dance as old as time itself.
His face contorted into an expression of shock and betrayal. The rose fell to the floor, Michiel crushed it under his gigantic farmboots.
Michiel's eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a fire that threatened to consume us both. The room seemed to shrink around us, growing suffocatingly small under the pressure of his gaze.
I felt my heartbeat quicken, I reluctantly pulled away from Rahim's embrace.
Michiel spoke angrily “See? You’re just like the rest of ‘em. You couldn’t wait another second to get with another man”. Michiel’s harsh words cut me like a knife. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I was at a loss for words. “I-I’m not,” I finally managed to stammer, but my response fell on deaf ears as Michiel stormed out of the bar, leaving me alone with Rahim.
My desire for Rahim had suddenly vanished, replaced instead with a desperate longing for the one man that seemed completely indifferent towards me.
Deflated, I turned away from Rahim and sank onto the nearest bar stool.
It felt as if I’d been gutted, emptied of every ounce of joy and excitement.
“That didn’t go well” Rebecca stood next to me. I never even noticed she was there. Rebecca, the charming innkeeper who treated me like family since I arrived in Bali. She always had a smile and a warm, firm handshake—but today, her eyes glimmered with maternal concern. I couldn't bear to look at her, not after the embarrassment of being caught on the verge of a meaningless encounter.
I watched as she reached for my forearm, letting her thumb gently trace soothing circles while muttering words of understanding and forgiveness. Yet, her consolation wasn't what I really wanted to hear.
I ached for Michiel; to feel his strong frame pressing against me, to lose myself in the tenderness that lingered behind his burly exterior.
A few days had passed since my disastrous encounter at the bar. I was wallowing in guilt, spending most of my time locked away in my room. Rebecca's voice called from downstairs, alerting me to a guest. Perhaps this interruption would provide the distraction I needed from my dreary thoughts. I descended the rickety stairs, following the sound of her voice until I reached the lobby.
It was Samira the fortune teller again. A bohemian woman with a dark mop of curly hair, accentuated by an equally colorful tie-dye dress and layers of beaded bangles around her wrist. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air, infused with a mystique that compelled me to step closer.
"Can I help you?" Samira asked with a warped smile that revealed her cheeky personality.
Rebecca explained the situation.
Samira looked at me with a compassionate gaze, her eyes reflecting the understanding of someone who had felt heartache before.
"Ah, my sweet boy," she said softly, reaching for my hand. Her touch was warm and comforting. "I sensed you were hurting after our last encounter."
“You told me I needed to seduce him, it almost worked. But I.. I messed up. Now it’s never going to happen”. Samira's eyes narrowed, and her voice turned serious. “A true loss for both of you,” she said as if she was reading the palm of my hand that told a sad tale of unrequited feelings and misguided words.
“But,” she continued, “an opportunity for you to grow and learn about yourself in this world full of heightened senses. This journey is not always easy, but I believe you’re up for the challenge.”
No I didn’t want to move on. I wanted him. Every fiber of my being wanted him.
“When we first met. You told me you’d help me. You told me about dark magic”. I insisted.
Samira beamed at the mention of her earlier conversation with me, delving deep into my soul's desires and hidden secrets. “Yes, I did,” she confirmed.
She opened her palm to reveal an aged wooden box with intricate carvings. My attention was immediately captured.
"What's inside that box, Samira?" I asked, my intrigue piqued.
“Nothing dear. It’s not about what’s inside the box. It’s about what you put in it”. Samira paused, letting her words sink in. "The universe responds to whatever you present to it. So, if you want Michiel to be receptive to your love and affection, you need to fill this box with something physical that represents your connectiom, your love for eachother. We have to be very careful though with what object we use”. Samira hesitated, her brows furrowed as she chose her next words with caution. "Using an object imbued with strong sexual energy is key for the dark magic to work."
Christian's mind was buzzing as he considered his options. He knew that whatever item he chose must hold significant meaning and be highly erotic to have any chance of success. If Michiel was going to open himself up to their connection, the box needed to be filled with unmistakable intent.
And what better way to represent their connection than with a physical manifestation of their longing?
Samira firmly grabbed my hands, her hands were warm and soothing. “Love, I need you to think of any object. Something that represents your connection. But it’s important that it’s not one sided. The spell can only work if there’s a spark of both of you in the object”. Samira's voice pierced through the haze of Christian's thoughts.
He knew exactly what he had to do. The perfect item. Christian got up and walked over to the doorway. There he picked up the crushed rose from the floor. Michiel was going to give him that rose. Surely it meant something? Christian plucked the crumpled red petals from the floor, salvaging them from the forgotten promise of desire. It was a trace of the man who denied what had been so clearly tangible between them not that long ago.
A faint smile graced his lips as he turned to Samira with a glint in his eyes. "I've got it," he declared, holding the crushed rose petals out like a prize.
She raised an eyebrow. “No, no this rose is bad energy. Michiel crushed it out of hatred. You never want to mix hate with a spell. It needs to be something pure”. Rebecca’s voice broke through Christian's thoughts.
Samira nodded in agreement. “Rebecca is right. The ideal object should be meaningful and representative of your deep connection to Michiel. But also, we need to find something untainted by the negativity of past events.”
Christian glanced over at Rebecca, her calm demeanor and considerate tone put him at ease. She understood what this meant to him and had supported him unwaveringly throughout this entire process.
With a grateful nod, Christian returned to Samira.
“Oh I know” Christian had an idea. He handed over his sketchbook. Showing her the picture he painted. Michiel taking in his manhood. Michiel's blue eyes were filled with a carnal hunger, as if every cell in his body craved Christian.
“Pretty. But no.” Samira closed the sketchbook, unimpressed by the deeply sexual contents of the drawing. “That’s a fantasy. That’s one sided. You fabricated that in your head. The objects needs to be a labour of love from the both of you”. Samira’s words haunted him as he pondered the perfect item.
“So it can’t be one of my creations.. it needs to be something of significance to us both”. Christian sighed, lost in thought. This such item even exist? Christian pondered, digging deep into his memories. His thoughts drifted towards the ginger field, where their connection first surfaced, igniting a heat that neither could deny.
"The ginger!" Christian exclaimed, snapping his fingers to emphasize his realization. In flashes of passionate memory, the bright red roots mingled with their tangled limbs and bodies slick with sweat. "During our first intimate moment together, we milked the ginger plants together," he continued eagerly, hoping to convince Samira.
"Michiel's raw power intertwined with my nimble touch, as we carefully squeezed the gelatinous sap into our hands."
Samira's gaze softened, evidently touched by the poetic imagery invoked in Christian's memory. "Excellent," she smiled.
"I can sense the significance of this memory, Christian. The ginger plants, as you said, were the birthplace of your passion. I can feel that energy."
Christian, fueled by his determination, made his way to the ginger field. The tall, vibrant red plants shuddered beneath the breeze. He checked his watch. 2am. He felt like a thief in the night. He turned the flash on his phone on. All he thought about was finding the one ginger root they both touched as they milked it together.
"There!" he exclaimed, finding an unbroken root nestled amongst the sea of plants.
The ginger was thick and long, a fitting metaphor for the lust mounting within him. Examining it, he could almost feel the heat of Michiel's hand melding with his own in their intertwined labors.
As he touched the ginger to his nose, its heady yet refreshing aroma filled his nostrils, evoking a long-forgotten memory of their connection. Christian grasped the root firmly, ready to harvest this embodiment of their love and desire.
As he started to pull, the ginger did not budge easily. It required force - an exertion of energy that made him momentarily forget the chill in the air. The damp earth beneath his feet grounded him as he strained his muscles, sweat beading on his brow from the sheer effort.
With a final tug, the soil released its grip, and the root came away in Christian's hand. The thick stem nestled between his fingers like a secret treasure, ready to be entrusted to Samira's mysterious wisdom.
The ginger's reddish-orange hue seemed almost feverish, as if it hummed with the power he sought.
As Christian rejoined Samira at the guesthouse, she glanced at the ginger in his hand, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Ah, perfect," she whispered, and motioned for him to follow. Together, they climbed the narrow staircase up to the attic room where an assortment of candles flickered atop various curiosities and talismans lining wooden shelves.
An oversized table strewn with tattered manuscripts, mysterious ingredients and scraps of parchment spoke to the room's primary occupation.
Without uttering a single word, Samira moved gracefully about the space, delicately gathering what she required for her dark magic. Hearing her soft whisper as she chanted reverently over unidentified components fueled Christian's anticipation. His heartbeat raced in his chest in tandem with increasing desire for Michiel - he was the focus of this potent spell.
She held up the ginger plant to the bright candles on the chandelier above. Then put it in the magic box. She started chanting in a language Christian did not understand. Her hands began to glow with a strange light as she moved them over the ginger. Each pass of her hands sent shivers through Christian's body, igniting an indescribable heat in his core.
When she finished her incantation, the ginger levitated before Samira's palms, engulfed in the same radiant light that illuminated her hands. She carefully placed it inside the wooden box; the moment it made contact with the velvet lining, the box sealed itself.
"Now we wait," she said, eyes glancing toward the early morning sky.
Suddenly my legs started feeling unbearably heavy. Then I started getting dizzy. I was exhausted, needed sleep desperately. I felt myself losing consciousness.
My eyes were already closed. I was unable to open them. But in the distance I could still hear a voice. “Help me carry him to his room. He needs rest”. “Is everything okay with him Samira?” The second voice was Rebecca. “We won’t know until morning”. That’s the last thing I heard before falling into a deep long slumber. It was mid-day when I finally awoke. My head pounded as if it had been torn open and then stitched back together.
I struggled to sit up, but the exhaustion clinging to me felt like a thick fog that blurred my senses, refusing to dissipate.
I lay there with my eyes open, piecing together the events of the previous night.
My thoughts turned to the box and its mysterious contents—our ginger root, imbued with the potent energy of our connection.
The hazy memory of Samira's incantations as she charged the container replayed in my mind like a risqué porno. I imagined her hands moving over the ginger in a sensual dance, every pass sending jolts of pleasure surging through my body as if I were the one being touched.
My groin tingled with desire at the thought of what I hoped was to come.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and mustered the energy to stand, my knees threatening to buckle under my weight.
But then I looked down, and every ounce of stamina fled from my body.
In place of where my penis once was, there now stood a pulsating ginger root!
The blood drained from my face as I stumbled backward, collapsing onto the bed.
A thousand questions raced through my mind. How did this happen? Was it a result of Samira's dark magic? And perhaps most importantly, would this change be permanent?
As I sat there trembling with shock and confusion, I allowed the reality of my terrifying situation to sink in.
The ginger was now an indispensable appendage. It throbbed insistently between my legs, both a source of torment and delight.
No matter how hard I tried to wish away its presence, it remained, an unavoidable testament to the chaos I had brought upon myself in pursuit of Michiel's love.
I felt my fear dissolve, replaced with a dark curiosity that begged me to explore this strange development further.
My mind raced with vivid fantasies about running my hands up and down the ginger fruit now connecting me to the man I desired more than air.
Groaning, I grabbed the ginger fruit firmly and stroked it from base to tip, marveling at the sensation of power flooding my very being. My senses heightened, I was suddenly aware of how inadequate every prior sexual encounter had been—without the inclusion of this intriguing new appendage.
My other hand snaked its way along my body, lingering at my nipples as they hardened beneath my fingers.
As I absentmindedly tugged and twisted them, the ginger between my legs responded, swelling with every tender caress.
An ache began to form, urging me to surrender myself to the exquisite torment. With caution, I slid off the bed and knelt, fingers gripping my lengthy ginger tightly enough to leave indents on its vibrant skin. The silken strands tickled my palms as sweat beaded upon my brow—a reminder of the intensity of my longing for Michiel, further fueled by my own ginger fruit appendage.
My body craved release, yet my thoughts turned to the intricate scale pattern that now covered my manhood. It was as if a thousand sensual nerve endings had come to life beneath my fingertips, rendering me powerless against the intoxicating desire coursing through my veins.
The fruit started producing liquid. I moaned as I slowly milked it onto the floor. A string of drool escaped my bottom lip as the sensations coursed through my veins. The sound of my spasms echoed in the nearly vacant room, underscoring the euphoria.
I collapsed onto my back, breathing heavily as I stared blankly at the ceiling, basking in the glory of what had just transpired. My body felt drained but ecstatic.
Lying on the bedroom floor, I held the ginger root tenderly, examining the silky liquid that covered it. It was a manifestation of the pleasure I just experienced, and somehow, an undeniable symbol of my desire for Michiel.
The room swirled with a mixture of exhaustion and elation. I stood up unsteadily, grasping the wall to prevent myself from falling over.
The pleasure I had just experienced still reverberated through my veins, making every part of me quiver. I knew I needed more. My body craved it, and as much as I wanted to ignore the ginger fruit between my legs, I couldn't. It was a part of me now, and I was going to embrace it.
Wrapping my hand around the ginger fruit once more, I closed my eyes and began to stroke slowly. A soft moan escaped my lips as the pleasure started to build again.
I pictured Michiel's strong, raw hands gripping the ginger fruit between my legs, making me writhe with desire under his muscular frame.
My mind was flooded with images of us twisted together like vines, our naked bodies tangled as the heat from the tropical sun bore down on us. His every touch sent shivers of pleasure through me, leaving me begging for more.
I regained my composure and quickly pulled my hands away from the fruit between my legs. I need to save it. I thought. The ultimate orgasm can’t come from jerking off. I need the real Michiel to milk me. Only then would the spell's true power be unlocked, and I was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.
Determined, I picked myself up off the floor, my legs still shaky as I wrapped a towel around my waist to hide the ginger root between my legs. I couldn't afford to have anyone else see me like this until I had a chance to understand the extent of Samira's dark magic.
I made my way downstairs and found Rebecca tending to the bar. I mustered up a weak smile and approached her, trying to play it cool.
"Hey, Rebecca. I hope you're doing well this morning."
Rebecca looked at me with a gentle smile, her wise eyes giving away the concern she felt for my current predicament. "I'm good, Christian. How are you holding up?"
My mind was racing, and I was struggling to keep up appearances. It was as if my body had taken on a life of its own—riven with desire and lust for carnal pleasure while I was trying to maintain conversations like everything was absolutely fine. "Oh, you know me.
Just the same old Christian," I replied with a half-hearted chuckle that didn't quite reach my eyes. Rebecca's gaze bore into me, sensing my unease. I needed to change the subject before she started probing deeper.
"Hey, would you mind keeping my little secret?" I whispered, leaning in closer so the other patrons at the bar wouldn't overhear our conversation. I glanced at the towel wrapped around my waist, the thick ginger root still hidden between my legs. This time, Rebecca raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Her gaze fell to the towel wrapped around my waist, and she pondered for a few moments. "Alright, Christian," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper in the bustling room. "I'll keep your secret, but you have to level with me. What's going on?"
I hesitated but knew I had to tell someone about this situation I now found myself in. It was only fair to let Rebecca know what had transpired during my late-night journey up the attic staircase following Samira.
So, I recounted the events that unfolded—telling her about my hope to harvest a ginger root and infuse it with dark magic to create an unbreakable bond between Michiel and me. The more I described the process and the erotic frenzy I experienced as Samira performed her spells, the more intense my physical longing became for the very object I held inside myself.
Rebecca's eyes widened in surprise at the description of the ginger root between my legs, but she didn't laugh or judge me.
Instead, she leaned in closer and whispered, "Holy shit, Christian. That's some wild shit. But dude, I'm here for you. I just hope it doesn't end up burning your dick off!"
I couldn't help but chuckle at her joke. Rebecca always knew how to lighten the mood, even in the most absurd situations. "Good one, Rebecca," I said with a smile. "But seriously, I think this dark magic might actually work. Michiel and I have something going on, and I can feel it."
Rebecca nodded in understanding.
"Okay, Christian. I get why you did this. But have you thought about what you're gonna say to Michiel when he sees that thing between your legs?" she asked, nodding towards the bulge in the towel.
I sighed, my shoulders sagging in frustration. "To be honest, Rebecca, I don't know what I'm going to say. But I can't deny that this fucking ginger root is driving me crazy with lust—and not just for any guy, but specifically for Michiel.
I want him to see it, to touch it, to feel its power, and to submit to the primal desire that flows between us. I want him to take control of my body, to make me beg for more, and to push me beyond my limits as he claims every inch of me.
And so, as the days passed, I found myself becoming more and more consumed by the mere thought of Michiel's rough hands gripping my engorged ginger root.
The desire for him grew stronger each day, and it became harder and harder to think of anything else.
One evening, as twilight descended over the rice paddies, painting the sky with hues of lilac and gold, I decided to take a stroll to clear my mind. The warm evening breeze gently caressed my skin as the rustling of palm leaves whispered around me. I wandered down a familiar path until I arrived at the fence surrounding Michiel's plot of land.
The tall, imposing figure of my desired companion worked tirelessly just beyond, his gigantic muscles straining as he hoed the fertile Bali soil.
I couldn't help but let my gaze linger on the sheer power contained in his body. His skin glistened as sweat dripped from his chiseled chest and arms, staining the earth below him. His tight shorts hugged every inch of his bulging thighs and the perfect curve of his ass.
I let my tongue roam over my lips at the thought of sinking my teeth into that luscious flesh. My heart raced in response to the primal urge I felt towards this mountain of a man.
With unwavering determination, I stepped over the fence and onto Michiel's land. Each step towards him felt like a carefully laid plan, as if I were traversing a field of land mines where any small misstep would blow our carefully constructed fantasies to smithereens.
My heart hammered in my chest as I moved closer, my breath hitching as I noticed the slightest change in Michiel's movements at the sight of me. I felt like a predator stalking their unsuspecting prey.
“I think I was pretty clear back in the pub. I told you not to come see me”. Michiel said annoyed as he kept plowing the soil. Each thrust of the tool into the earth sounded like a soft grunt of frustration, leaving me with a conflicting desire to comfort him and submit to his commands.
A shiver ran through my body as I took in the sight before me. Michiel's sheer strength and brute force, the way the muscles on his arms rippled with every movement — I couldn't help but feel an irresistible pull towards his dominance.
"Look, I think we should just talk," I stammered, taking a hesitant step forward. “I uh.. I miss you and not just you know.. the physical. I miss YOU. I miss your warm heart, your comforting voice, your supporting words-“. Out of nowhere I let out a primal grunt, interrupting the heartfelt monologue I had prepared in my head. I felt the ginger fruit swelling between my legs, I watched as the bulge in my pants grew. I could feel the ginger leaking down my appendage. I stared at the bulge and imagined what was going on under my shorts. I imagined the fruit swelling, turning redder than ever.
But no.. I had to focus.. win Michiels heart first. Deal with the plant second. Michiel looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. Unable to grasp what was going on. “I love you Michiel” I continued. “I really do— eeeuurhhghh FUUUUUCK”. A feeling of a thousand orgasms waiting to be released coursed through my body. My knees started to buckle as I fell to the ground.
“Christian are you okay?!” Thick beads of sweat flowed down my forehead. I was almost conscious but took a deep breath and regained my composure. “Fuck Michiel..OK let’s just get the band aid off” I breathed out quickly as I mentally prepared my confession. “I met this witch, back in the Inn. And I think I made some deal with the devil and now.. I have this.. this thing.. this monster in my pants. I wished for our love. I put myself under a spell. But now this thing, it channels my desire for you. I need you to release it. Milk it”. I was embarrassed to tell him that what was between my legs was one of his ginger fruits. I did everything not to let the truth shine through. Even though the grande reveal was inevitable at this point. “You know so to speak- FUCK!” Another flare up. I felt the fruit twitch between my legs. My knees buried deeply in the gravel as I strained myself. Preparing myself for the next contraction. It hurt but.. in a good way.
Michiel carefully thought about his words , trying to soothe my panic while also considering the best course of action. He didn't want to hurt my feelings, but he had to be firm.
"Christian," he said, "I can't just 'milk' you like some kind of farm animal. You know that, right?"
Michiel's words cut through the thick tension hanging in the air. I was still lying on the ground, clutching my rock-hard ginger fruit as if it were a sacred relic.
"Please, Michiel," I pleaded, "It's not a simple as you think." My breath hitched in my throat, a result of both frustration and embarrassment. I watched as his face softened, a hint of curiosity replacing the skepticism he'd previously worn.
"Alright, Christian," he relented, "but we need to do this privately." He took my hand and pulled me up from the dirt-covered ground. But my knees were to weak to stand. Michiels big arms lifted me of the floor like I was a feather. As he carried me inside his shack.
ed my head fell against his chest. I was still in disbelief at what my new reality was. Desperately wanting to pleasure myself with his ginger root, something that would now would be known only by us. The moment we were safely inside his simple hut - away from prying eyes, the tension between us reached a crescendo that could no longer be contained.
"Please, Michiel... I need you to do it," I moaned into his shoulder, my core trembling uncontrollably from the intensity of the need and pain surging within me.
I could feel the ginger root pulsating between my legs, like a living entity desperate for pleasurable release.
Michiel's muscular arms held me with a gentle yet firm grip as he carried me to his bedroom space. I felt like a delicate piece of porcelain, cherished and prized in the hands of this giant Adonis. The scent of sweat and earth enveloped me, making my heart race and stomach tingle.
Michiel gently laid me on his bed, he slowly undressed me. I was still embarrassed at the fruit between my legs. Would he think it was perverted the way I connected my body to one of his fruits? Would he think I was a freak? Before I knew it Michiel pulled my shorts down. The fruit slipped out, slapping against my inner thigh, leaving a faint red mark. I watched him intently as his gaze landed on this now obscene entity. I could sense questions swimming through his mind, but none escaped his lips.
"Fuck, Michiel," I panted, unable to contain myself any longer. "Please... touch it."
Michiel hesitated initially but soon gave in to curiosity and desire. He reached out towards the ginger root dangling between my legs, each millimeter of progress setting me ablaze with anticipation.
The rough pads of his fingers brushed against my sensitive skin as they wrapped around the hard fruit. A shiver of pure ecstasy raced up my spine and into the farthest tips of my extremities, spreading goosebumps in its wake.
Michiel's piercing blue eyes met mine, a quizzical expression playing on his handsome features. He gently began to move his hand up and down my ginger root, causing a low, guttural moan to escape my lips before I could stop it.
Each stroke of his hand sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, making it hard to focus on anything but the sensations coursing through my veins.
"Oh, fuck, Michiel," I groaned, my head falling back onto his pillows as I surrendered to the exquisite torture he was inflicting upon me. My fingernails dug into the sheets beneath me as I struggled to maintain some semblance of control.
Michiel's grip tightened around my ginger root, causing a jolt of delightful pain to shoot through me like lightning.
I couldn't help but writhe beneath him, the coarse stubble on his cheeks grazing my sensitive skin as he leaned in to whisper against my ear.
"You like that?" he growled, his low voice sending shivers down my spine. "You want more?"
I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words as his skilled fingers worked me into a state of bliss. The ginger root throbbed between us, its vibrant hue standing proud against my pale thighs.
Michiel's eyes widened at the sight of it, the magnitude of my request sinking in as I gazed at him, raw desire etching my features.
"You want this? Now?" he asked with a playful grin.
My breath hitched, each syllable punctuated by a guttural groan. "Yes. Please."
A tantalizing chuckle rippled from Michiel's chest, sending waves of eagerness crashing over me.
"But what if I told you there was another way to satisfy this strange kink?" he said, the words dripping with a wickedness that I desperately craved.
I gazed into Michiel's eyes, the turquoise depths reflecting my own longing. "Please," I begged, no longer caring about preserving what little pride I had left. "Show me."
Michiel's smoldering grin set my heart alight as he carefully undressed himself.
My core throbbed with each piece of clothing he shed, revealing his perfectly sculpted body. I couldn't help but stare, completely enamored by the Viking in front of me, with his flaming red-brown hair and perfectly chiseled abs.
He crawled onto the bed, bracing himself on all fours as he loomed over my trembling body. The anticipation coursing through me made it nearly impossible to breathe. My mind raced; I didn't know what to expect from this new 'way' Michiel had mentioned.
I gasped as he dove in, pressing his lips to mine with unbridled urgency. My back arched off the bed, as if inviting him closer—and he obliged willingly.
His immense frame enveloped me, impossibly strong hands grasping at my hips as they pulled me against him. I could feel the heat emanating from his body, consuming me like a wildfire. As he deepened our kiss, Michiel massaged my throbbing ginger root between his fingers with gentle yet deliberate intent.
I could feel the lustful energy swirling around us as his hot tongue tangled with mine, igniting a spark that surged through every inch of my being.
Hunger gnawed at me, building to a fever pitch with each tantalizing brush of his lips against mine. Desire swelled within me, pulsating between my legs in a rhythm that coordinated perfectly with the way our bodies moved together.
Michiel's skilled hands began to explore other parts of my body, kneading and caressing every curve as if he had done this a million times before.
His fingers deftly found their way to my entrance, tracing along the delicate folds with a tenderness that took me by surprise.
I moaned into his mouth as his touch sent waves of pleasure cascading through me. The ginger root between my legs was all but forgotten in that moment, replaced instead by a new and intense longing.
With a sultry smile, Michiel broke our kiss and began to work his way down my body. I trembled under his touch, arching my back as he teased my sensitive flesh. He nipped at my collarbone, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.
As he reached the apex of my thighs, I could feel the heat radiating from him, making my heart race with anticipation. I held my breath as he gently spread my legs apart, revealing the ginger root that still hung between them.
The throbbing between my thighs intensified as his gaze flicked down to it, a small smirk playing upon his lips.
“Well, look what we have here,” he murmured before stroking the length of the fruit slowly. I couldn’t help but whimper at the contact, my hips bucking involuntarily towards him in search of more friction. His fingers deftly trailed up my inner thigh, slipping underneath me and teasing my entrance just enough to make me gasp.
“Michiel...
please," I begged, my voice trembling as I anticipated his touch. He looked up at me from under his thick, red-brown eyebrows, a playful glint in his eyes. His fingers slowly moved towards my wetness, teasing me with each tortuous second that passed. I couldn't help but writhe under him, desperate for the release that was building up within me.
"You're so wet for me, aren't you?" he whispered with a taunting grin. His voice, raw and masculine, sent a shiver down my spine.
I nodded, unable to speak. The anticipation was excruciating as I watched him study the ginger root between my legs. It was soaked with my juices, throbbing and begging for his touch. He wrapped his fingers around it again, tugging gently and observing my reaction. I gasped, the sensation moving up my spine and triggering a chain reaction of goosebumps all over my body.
Michiel lowered his head between my legs, his hot breath enveloping the throbbing root that lay against my aching flesh.
I could hardly breathe, every nerve in my body on high alert. The anticipation of what was to come made my heart race and my skin tingle.
"Oh, fuck," I whimpered as he began to stroke the ginger root with his tongue, the wetness of his mouth combining with my own juices as I grew increasingly aroused. His skilled tongue swirled around the fruit, expertly teasing it while causing me to writhe beneath him with each flick of his tongue.
The sensation of my juices mixing with the ginger root created a uniquely sensual tang that made my mind swim in euphoric pleasure.
"Michiel, fuck!" I shouted, unable to contain myself any further. My hands grasped at his thick, flaming red-brown hair as I pressed his head against me, demanding more. I needed him to taste me, the ginger root embedded inside me- our little secret.
My wetness dripped down my thighs, pooling on the bed beneath me. I couldn't take it anymore- my mind raced with pleasure.
To my surprise Michiel pulled his head away. My fruit now pulsing more than ever. I watched as Michiel seductively climbed on top of my like he was a lion and I’m his prey. The determination in his eyes was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. His massive bodybuilder body now on top of me. I felt the weight of his muscles crushing me. But I liked the feeling.
Michiels mouth was dripping with ginger and cum. He kissed me passionately as we lay there on top of eachother. I could taste the ginger from his mouth enter mine.
I watched as he crouched over me. His massive feet on the bed. The man was a giant at atleast 7’5ft tall. I grabbed his firm pecs. They were like two mangoes. I pinched his nipples and watched Michiel moan in pleasure.
“Fuck me Michiel, Fuck me-“. Michiel simply put his finger to his mouth, telling me to quiet. Then put his finger on my lips before giving me a kiss on the cheek.
I watched as he moved backwards, inching towards the fruit. Still crouched on top of me. I watched Michiel stood on the bed, my body between his feet. I watched as he slowly lowered his juicy asscheeks and spread them apart. His tight, pink star glowed invitingly beneath the dim light of the room.
I watched as he ever so slowly crouched down more and more as I was bracing myself for impact. The tip of my with ginger covered appendage entering his hole. The juices providing a perfect lubricant. I watched in awe as the ginger root slowly began to stretch his tight opening. His body tensed with every inch that sank inside. The thought of this masculine man taking my magical creation within him filled me with an intense thrill. With each push forward, the fruit buried itself deeper and deeper inside his muscular ass.
"My, oh my, aren't you hot?" I murmured lasciviously, "You're like a fucking furnace." I found myself becoming even more aroused knowing that there was more of me inside him than ever before.
I could only imagine what he felt at that moment. The sensation of fullness, perhaps? Or was it a slight sting, the ginger root's way of making its presence known?".
Michiel took a deep breath as he bore down with all his strength, ensuring the entire ginger root slipped into his tight hole. I stared in amazement as I saw his body adjusting to the fruit's diameter like I had just made love to him with a cannon and not a more conventional partner.
And yet, the moment I started to worry about Michiel's well-being, he winked at me, his handsome face breaking into a genuine smile that made me melt inside.
"Don't look so worried, Chris," he teased with a twinkling raspiness in his voice, "I'm not as fragile as you think."
To prove his point, Michiel placed both hands on my shoulders for support as he slowly started to lower himself onto my lap. My heart raced in anticipation of what was going to happen next. Would it even fit?
I wondered, as I watched him in a mix of awe and worry. But my concerns vanished like mist, giving way to feverish desire at the sight of his skilled body moving. Michiel's strong thighs flexed as he lowered himself with perfect control until the ginger root was fully sheathed inside him, and our bodies became one.
The connection was electric. I could feel the warm embrace of his body enveloping me, sending jolts of searing pleasure through every nerve.
My pulse quickened as I watched him begin to grind his hips in a slow and steady rhythm. The ginger root pulsed within him with each measured push and pull, creating a sight so obscenely entrancing that it took my breath away.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I muttered, utterly captivated by the spectacle before me. A feeling of pure awe washed over me, realizing that we were now connected on a scale I hadn't thought possible.
I could feel the throbbing of the ginger root inside Michiel, his tight ass muscles clenching around it in a way that threatened to send me over the edge.
I gritted my teeth, trying to maintain control as the sensations grew more and more intense. With each grinding motion, the pleasure intensified, spreading throughout my entire body. It was as if the ginger root itself had become a magical conduit connecting our primal desires.
All this time I was so busy with my own fruit situation between my legs, that I hadn’t even thought of pleasuring Michiels cock. My eyes darted down, I was shocked at the sheer size of him. I reached out to grab the monster, I slowly moved my hand up and down and watched as a pool of precum dripped from his tip onto my chest. His cock looked obscene, the size of it made my jaw drop. The head was crimson red and swollen, the veins stood out starkly against his skin like a relief map of pleasure. I couldn't wait any longer, neither could he.
"Fuck, Christian," Michiel groaned as he pushed himself onto the ginger fruit, taking it deep inside him. The fruit seemed to pulse with a life of its own as it throbbed rhythmically against his walls. My heart raced watching this giant man take me inside him in such an intimate way.
My hand moved up and down his shaft, matching the rhythm of his hips grinding against me. Our bodies moved as one, every stroke a testament to the magnetic connection between us.
The grip on my shoulder tightened as Michiel began to quicken his pace. I felt the ginger root twitching within him, the pulsations bringing about moans that were half pleasure, half pain. But there was no denying the thrill of it all, the electric charge that arced through me each time he squeezed around me.
My other hand was occupied by his swollen cock, stroking up and down its impossibly thick length. Precum dripped from the tip like a faucet, glistening in the dim light of the room.
I knew it was only a matter of time before I couldn’t hold back any longer. Groans poured from my lips as my hips spasmed beneath him. “It's coming, keep still,” I pleaded with him, staring deep into his clear blue eyes.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his temple, caught by the stray breeze that found its way into the shack. The sheer size of him, both physically and emotionally, kept me grounded in a way I had never experienced before. My mouth felt dry, a mix of nerves and desire that grew with each pulse of my ginger root deep inside him.
I watched as his lips parted, a low groan escaping as he fought back against the impending release. I longed to taste him, feel his seed burst from the swollen head of his cock and flood my mouth.
My hips bucked involuntarily, urging Michiel onward as he worked my throbbing fruit between his muscular cheeks. Each thrust of his body sent my toes curling in ecstasy.
"Fuck, Michiel," I gasped, "I can't... ah--"
Without warning, he slipped off the ginger root and spun me around. I watched as he reached with his hand inside his now gaping hole and scooped some ginger fluid out of it, then inserted his wet hand into my asshole lubing it up for what was to come. "Don't be afraid, Christian," Michiel's voice was hoarse with lust. He smeared my own juices around my puckered hole and I couldn’t help but moan as he began to push outwards with his huge thumb.
"You're so fucking tight," Michiel growled, working his thumb inside of me. He pushed again and again until I gave way, taking him deep into my ass. The sensation was beyond intense - a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me.
My entire being trembled as I was stretched to my limits by this man who seemed to embody masculinity itself. I couldn't help but groan, the feeling both terrifying and exhilarating.
Michiel gripped my hips with a ferocity that left me no choice but to submit. He began to thrust into me, hard and unyielding. Each pump sent waves of ecstasy coursing through my veins, threatening to consume me whole.
My fingers clawed at the bedsheets beneath me, desperately seeking purchase as Michiel's immense body drove into mine.
With each powerful thrust, he struck a new bundle of nerve endings that sent waves of euphoria coursing through my veins.
"Ah, fuck, Michiel!" I shouted, the feeling of him inside me indescribable. My muscles tensed around his thumb, the sensation almost too intense to bear. But there was no denying that it felt incredible - more satisfying than anything I had ever experienced before. Each movement of his wrist caused my legs to quiver and threaten to give out beneath me. I watched as he clenched a fist his forearm covered in tensed thick muscle. My hole stretched to impossible proportions as he fisted me.
My entire body was shaking with each powerful thrust of his arm. I could feel the orgasm building up inside me, my balls tightening in anticipation of the impending release.
Michiel leaned over me, his hot breath tickling the back of my neck. He bit into my shoulder as he drove deeper, the sensation pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
"Oh yeah! Fuck!" I shouted, clawing at the bedsheets beneath me. I had never felt so full before - it was as if Michiel was trying to claim every inch of me as his own. Michiel whispered into my ear, his entire forearm still inside me. “Honey, this is only the warm up”. Michiel retracted his arm from my hole. Then spit on his comically huge cock. I watched as he guided his tip to my stretched hole.
Chapter excerpt truncated at the edge.