by The Enigmatic Big Miss Sunbeam
"Bug . . . spray?"
"Your cologne." (Well, a man had to say something to these types.)
"Dr. McCoy, Klingon warriors always perfume themselves," the reply came in that measured Klingon way, "so, when we are killed in battle, our corpses will continue to please our worthy opponents."
"I'll drink to that. We could learn much from you all."
They walked on down the corridor. McCoy sure did feel mighty short next to the majestic barbarism of Gorkon. Still: life went on. He better find him a john quick. All that damn Romulan ale.
Ah, here we go. "Um, excuse me for a moment, Chancellor."
"You humans must have extremely small organs of elimination."
McCoy was taken aback. "Well, that's not necessarily so, Chancellor."
"Is that not why you humans have so many elimination posts? I am curious; you see, we Klingons do not share that need."
And, of all things, Gorkon followed him into the head.
These Klingons were real birds. "This idn't no spectator sport, Chancellor."
"You are ashamed? I see I have much to learn before we become allies." And, with lots of creaking leather, Gorkon came and stood right beside him. "See my organ, McCoy? It is much larger."
McCoy looked down. Hellfire, it WAS huge. No wonder these Klingons were so . . .
"In Klingon culture," Gorkon continued pleasantly, "it is considered *utknidnalk* to have a large organ. An untranslatable concept, I imagine, since size would not matter to a race with such tiny organs." He was clearly preening.
Damn. And the swollen dark head of Gorkon's dick was pierced in three different places by elaborately carved silver hoops.
McCoy looked at Gorkon's face. Was that byGod Klingon sumbitch . . . laughing at him?
McCoy smiled. Then he laughed. "I am mighty tiny, I suppose, by your big old Klingon standards. But it matters what you do with it too."
Gorkon's strange eyes crinkled too, and his voice had the strangest purring quality. "What do you do with it?"
Damn, McCoy hadn't been this drunk since college. What the hell was this . . . critter implying? "Well, we please the girls, among other things."
"Just females. Ah. That makes sense. Someone who was unused to external genitalia would judge your tiny size less harshly."
Gorkon had one big number, McCoy would have to hand him that. It was hard to look away from it. They swayed towards each other.
"Or boys or whatever," McCoy murmured.
Gorkon looked down. "What do you call yours?"
"Dick. This is my dick." Now McCoy was getting hard too.
And old Gorkon didn't miss a trick. "Ah, I see that your organ of elimination is stiffening. Why is that, I wonder?"
"Because you're making me look at your big dick."
Their eyes met. Gorkon was handling himself rather openly now. It was dark, big, and the silver points glistened in the starlit head. "McCoy, do you know what I am doing?"
"On earth we call that *jerking off*."
"Is there a prejudice against jerking off? On earth, I mean."
Hell of a question.
"Course not. But when a man jerks off in front of another man, it does have a specific meaning."
Gorkon's hand became still. "What meaning?"
"It's generally an invitation to enter into the act of love."
"The act of love?" Gorkon drew back; then he nodded. "Ah, yes, the beast with two backs."
McCoy had ceased to piss some time ago. Now he was just standing there with his puny yet extended cock in his hand.
Wonder what all that metal would feel like pushing his prostate?
He closed his eyes and shivered. "I got to say the word that is true, Chancellor. Two men in a toilet with their dicks in their hands generally indicates the act of love is about to take place. And, in our culture, that means one of them is probably getting ready to stick his big old dick up the other's ass."
"Doctor, can we do that?"
"I'm game if you are. I mean, I'm no spring chicken, but . . ."
"No spring chicken? Is that good or bad?"
"That's going to be your call, friend."
Gorkon looked at him dispassionately. "You will need to partially disrobe."
McCoy quickly lowered his pants. It'd been a long time since he'd done anything like this. Boy Jesus, he was drunk, but being that naked with somebody as impressive as old Gorkon was mighty hot. "Listen, Chancellor, we even can use that lotion right there to lube the way."
"Lube the way?"
"Yeah, that big thing would hurt my backdoor something bad if you didn't grease it up."
"Bend over that water device," Gorkon whispered, indicating the sink.
McCoy clutched it and stuck his scrawny and ready ass out as far as he could, shivering as Gorkon applied the lotion. Then, with many sounds of creaking leather and gasping, he felt Gorkon getting ready to enter him.
And that big head was pushing into him.
Size sure did matter. McCoy liked it big, and this old boy was the biggest. Pushing into him, making him feel mighty . . . oh hell oh shit oh damn now he realized those hoops were rubbing back and forth across that little old bump of a gland that made him feel like he was imploding. It'd been a long time since anybody'd touched him there, and now, it was happening again and again, too much really, and McCoy began to come and because he was so drunk he kept coming.
This sure was nice. Pinioned and barely conscious, he could feel Gorkon's big dick moving again and bending around stuff in there that hadn't been bent in a while and in general treating his asshole like it was his personal playground.
"Judas Priest, Gorkon, you are one good fuck."
Oh, now Gorkon was gripping his hips and pulling his feet off the floor and just moving into McCoy's ass as if it didn't even have a man hooked on to it and McCoy's dick hadn't softened one little bit. Gorkon knew how to grind it right into him; seemed like all that dick jewelry was reaming him right into another orgasm. Undamnreasonable was what it was.
He closed his eyes; he was shivering. No thought, nothing but sensation now.
What a star must feel like.
Suddenly Gorkon was still. Still as death. And a sound like the start of a storm, a wailing wind, broke from the Klingon's throat and McCoy felt Gorkon's fat black dick boiling against him and McCoy relaxed and spent too, this time almost softly, almost tenderly.
He felt Gorkon remove his big softening penis; the jewelry made as much exciting clatter being removed as it did going on. Nice. In his mind's eye, McCoy could see that big thing just a-coming out of his ass. Jesus. And he felt Gorkon dripping on him now, warm and slick.
"Chancellor, you're good."
"You mean I satisfied you?"
And Gorkon laughed a wild metallic laugh. "And you are good too, McCoy."
McCoy swabbed them both off; then he pulled up his pants and let his slender body sway against the armored hulk of Gorkon. Who smiled down at him.
"McCoy, I had entertained hopes of this for some time. Shakespeare teaches us of species who are both wanton and refined; I find that a provocative combination. Unfortunately, such a melding is rare in our homeworld."
"You mean, your wife or your, er, mate . . .?"
"Azetbur's dam was nobly slaughtered in an intertribal war, and I avenged her death gloriously. But as you see, I am alive. As are my varied appetites."
McCoy gave him a look. "Good buddy, this might could be the start of a beautiful friendship."
"Agreed," said the pleasant Gorkon. "Shall we not join the rest?"
McCoy looked down. They were both decent again. "I am with you, sir," he said, and they headed back to the dining hall.