Pounded In The Nose By My Seasonal Allergies

Kemp is thrilled about his weekend vacation in the country, but after moving this yearly date back a bit, Kemp discovers that things at the cabin aren’t quite like he remembers them. Flowers have started to bloom, and along with these flowers comes pollen.

The situation comes to a head when Kemp realizes that he’s been double booked with the physical manifestation of his seasonal allergies, named Jorf, and it gets even more complicated when he realizes that Jorf is strangely attractive.

Will the close proximity of these enemies turn them into lovers, if only for the weekend?

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay pollen action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and physically manifested seasonal allergies love.

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POUNDED IN THE NOSE BY MY SEASONAL ALLERGIES

By Chuck Tingle

I’m ready for a break. City life is wonderful at times, with all kinds of food to eat and things to do and people to see. There’s never a shortage of ways to spend your evenings in a packed metropolis, adventure lying just around every corner, but in some ways that can become a problem. When you have the whole world at your fingertips, it’s difficult to find restraint. It’s difficult to slow down.

Fortunately, I’ve found a way to keep myself balanced, a yearly routine that has gradually become one of my most anticipated treks. I’m no stranger to hitting the road with friends or flying to some tropical locale, but this particular journey has an entirely different vibe.

The most obvious difference between this adventure and the others is that I do this trip on my own. It’s a time to get away from it all and sit with my thoughts, to remove myself from the big city hum and connect with silence for a moment. If motivation strikes, I might even paint a bit, but in general, I plan on doing absolutely nothing.

I hit the road early in the morning, my car packed up with a few basic supplies as I pull out onto the bustling city streets. Cars honk, construction zones rumble, and pedestrians wander through every intersection. Gradually, however, all of these things begin to fall away. The tall skyscrapers become medium-sized apartment complexes, then eventually those disappear too. Soon enough, there’s nothing but suburban homes stretching on and on around me, until those gradually fade.

I’ve done this drive a dozen times before, knowing each curve of the road and every gnarled tree branch that reaches out above me, casting shadows against the sunlight. Unfortunately, on this particular trip I find myself noticing something different.

The flowers are starting to bloom.

Of course, beautiful blooming wildflowers are not a harbinger of doom for most people, and my reaction is admittedly unusual, but I have a good reason to be wary. I take this trip over the same long weekend every year, but due to a scheduling conflict I was forced to push things back a month. In my head, this didn’t amount to much of a change, but I can now see that nature had other ideas.

I slow my car down a bit, gazing out the window at all these colorful fields of yellow that are just starting to bloom. My heart beats faster and faster within my chest, taking it all in.

Sure, this looks nice, but there’s a huge problem: I have terrible, terrible allergies.

My timeline for this trip is based around the fact that, despite a wilderness setting that stretches for miles and miles around me, the flowers have not usually started pollinating the air while I’m here.

This time, however, things could be different.

I make sure my car isn’t circulating any outside air and roll up the window’s tight, then continue on my way. All the while, I can’t help feeling the looming sense of dread that grows within me, my eyes wandering over to check out all of the blossoming flora that’s started to grow along my familiar path.

The sun creeps its way across the sky as I travel onward. Eventually, I’m pulling off on a long dirt road the leads to my rental cabin. I’m still not entirely sure how much this little timeline shift has fucked me over, with plenty of blooms to be seen but also just as many waiting to erupt. It’s entirely possible that I’ve hit this trip just moments before things get really out of control.

I park out front, surveying the landscape of vast rolling hills. I take a deep breath and let it out, then climb from my vehicle, finally allowing the air to fill my lungs.

I stand here in the warm breeze, taking note of the way my body reacts. My focus is on the inside of my face, hunting for that familiar tickle somewhere deep within my nasal passages.

I can feel something stirring within, but it’s not nearly as bad as I expected. It appears that I may have just barely avoided disaster, arriving just a few days before things really kick off and the air becomes a massive cloud of pollen.

“Thank fucking God,” I sigh aloud.

I walk around to the back of my car, popping the truck and pulling out my weekender duffle bag, then strolling up to the cabin. I punch my code into the lockbox, opening it up to retrieve the key, then freezing awkwardly.

“Well… shit,” I sigh.

There is no key inside. I’d been so focused on my potential allergy disaster that I hadn’t considered the myriad of other things that could go wrong this weekend.

For some reason, I’m compelled to walk over and try the front door, and to my amazement the handle actually turns. It creeks open. Relief washes over me, realizing now that my check-in procedure is probably just different this year. It appears my host now leaves the door unlocked and lets me wander in to find the key, something that would absolutely never happen back in the city.

I step inside, my eyes scanning the entryway table and then lifting to observe in the main room of this simple rustic structure. I can see it in my mind before I even look with my eyes, the massive fireplace and the big fuzzy rug and the old chairs positioned around a tan wooden table. This place is the quintessential country getaway.

When I actually look, however, I’m greeted by something wholly unexpected, the shock forcing a yelp from between my lips as I stagger back a bit.

There, hovering in the middle of the living room, is a massive flower with shimmering flakes of pollen swirling around his body.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out. “Who the hell are you?”

The flower looks just as alarmed as I am, leaping back a bit as his eyes go wide.

“Who are you?” he counters, meeting my question with one of his own.

“I asked you first!” I shout. “You’re in my cabin!”

“You’re in my cabin!”

We stand awkwardly in front of one another for a moment, reaching a bizarre standoff as both of our minds get to work hunting for answers. As the surprise begins to wear off, the only logical explanation begins to form in its place.

“We must be double-booked,” I finally proclaim. “You’re probably supposed to stay here on some other weekend.”

The sentient flower that swirls in a cloud of pollen furrows his brow. He reaches into the mist and extracts his phone, quietly scrolling through a few pages as he reads from the luminous screen.

“Huh,” he says to himself, then looks back up at me. “It says I’m booked this weekend.”

The living flower holds his phone out, letting me read the confirmation message.

“That’s not possible,” I retort, despite the fact that the words on his screen are clearly reminding me that it is, in fact, possible. “I come here every single year on this exact weekend.”

The second that these words leave my mouth a surge of doubt pulses through me, dread sinking into the pit of my stomach. I do this every year, sure, but not on this weekend.

I immediately pull out my phone and do an email search for my reservation confirmation, but nothing shows up.

“Oh fuck,” I blurt.

“What’s wrong?”

“When I switched weekends, I must’ve forgotten to update my booking,” I explain, shaking my head with profound disappointment. It takes a moment for me to let this news settle, to fully accept what’s going on here, and when I’ve finally made peace with the unfortunate discovery I let out a long sigh. “Welp, I better head out. It’s a long drive back to the city.”

I turn and head for the door, but before I can take my leave the sentient flower calls out to stop me.

“Wait!” he cries.

I halt, then slowly turn around to face him. “Yeah?”

“I’m Jorf.”

“Kemp. It’s nice to meet you,” I say, then hesitate as my curiosity gets the best of me. “You’re a sentient flower, right? What’s with all the pollen? You blooming early?”

“Actually, I’m not a living object,” he explains. “I’m the physical manifestation of a feeling.”

“Oh yeah? What feeling?” I ask.

“Well, if you’re Jorf, then I’m the physical manifestation of your seasonal allergies,” he reveals.

My reaction is instant. “Oh, fuck you,” I reply, throwing my hands up and storming out.

I march down the front steps, heading for my car. Behind me, the door clatters as Jorf comes barreling after. “Hey! Wait!” he cries, but I don’t slow down. “There’s plenty of room in the cabin. You really don’t have to drive all the way back to the city.”

Finally, I relent. I turn back around to face him for a second time. “Do you realize how much I hate you?” I ask.

“Hate is a strong word.”

“Do you realize how much I dislike you?”

The physical manifestation cracks a mischievous smile. “See. We’re getting somewhere.”

I can’t help the fact that I’m slightly charmed by this exchange. The charisma alone is not enough to actually change my mind, of course, but the practicality of what Jorf is saying cannot be denied. It’s been a long drive, and the prospect of getting back in my car and doing the whole thing over again is utterly devastating.

“You sure there’s enough room?” I ask. “I really do have terrible allergies. We can’t be anywhere near eachother.”

“I know,” Jorf confirms. “I’ll stay in the bedroom and you can taking the living room.”

“And you’ll keep the door closed?”

“Sure,” he replies.

Finally, I relent. “Okay.”

The swirling physical manifestation heads back into the cabin and I follow behind. He doesn’t slow down when he enters the living room, just keeps on strolling into the bedroom and then closes the door behind him. “Have fun out there,” he calls.

I take a moment to settle in, going through my bag and putting a few things in the refrigerator. Once that’s taken care of, I set up my easel in the middle of the living room and place a fresh canvas on it, then get to work mixing my paints.

Suddenly, a gasp erupts from the other room.

I pause, my brush held awkwardly just a few inches from the canvas. “You alright in there?” I finally call out.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” replies Jorf. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” I call through the door. “I just…” I trail off, suddenly realizing how awkward this is.

“What?” the physical manifestation asks.

“Can I open the door? If we stay this far away from each other, it’ll probably be fine.”

There’s a long pause. “Sure,” Jorf finally says.

I creep over to the door and open it up, then step away. Jorf is inside, sitting in a chair with his feet kicked up on an ottoman and a book in his hand.

“You gasped,” I say.

Jorf chuckles to himself. “Yeah, I’m just reading this romance novel and… well… things got pretty spicy.”

Again, a surge of appreciation for this swirling pollen mist surges through me, something I would’ve never imagined feeling in a million years. Maybe appreciation is the wrong word, though. I was certainly charmed by him outside, but this emotion is much more specific.

I’m attracted to him.

“What kind of romance novel is it?” I press, trying to act normal.

“Surrealist,” Jorf says, then raises his eyebrows a bit. “Queer, too. It’s an enemies to lovers book.”

“A what to what book?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s when the two characters start out not liking each other, but slowly their feelings begin to transform. It usually happens when circumstance forces them into close proximity for some reason.”

“Oh,” is all I can think to say, nodding along and trying my best to ignore the incredible similarities to our current situation.

I turn away and stroll back over to my painting, settling in as Jorf returns to his book. As I dive into my work, I can’t help but recognize that strange sense of comfort that has permeated everything. Despite the fact that Jorf is all the way in the other room and the two of us are barely speaking to one another, his presence alone is appreciated.

After ten or fifteen minutes of painting, I decide to move my easel forward a bit. I scoot everything up so that I can now see through the door of the bedroom, catching sight of Joft laid out in his chair. He’s just as relaxed as before, buried in his book and unaware of my lingering gaze.

Despite the fact that this swirling mass of pollen causes me an incredible amount of irritation and discomfort, I can’t help the way that he draws me in. This physical manifestation is gorgeous and alluring, the perfect example of a bad boy that I shouldn’t be attracted to but simply can’t help myself.

“You know… if I get some medication, I can actually handle pollen alright,” I call over.

Jorf stops reading, putting down his book for a moment. “Oh yeah? Did you bring any?”

I shake my head.

The physical manifestation considers this. “Well, maybe you can go to the store and get some. Then we could get even closer.”

His last two words sit with me, repeating over and over again through my mind in an echo of temptation. Get even closer. Get even closer. Get even closer.

“The store is pretty far away,” I inform him. “It doesn’t cure me entirely, either. Still kinda miserable.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” my manifested seasonal allergies say. “You know, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just your immune system overreacting. It sucks, but it’s also part of a very important biological safety precaution. We’re really lucky to have an immune system, you know?”

I nod. “You’re right. You just tend to appear at really inconvenient times.”

“Sure, sure,” he replies. “Not my call, by the way. I just show up when I show up. It’s not like I’m choosing to bother you.”

I hesitate. “You’re not bothering me.”

“I literally am,” my allergies retort.

“Yeah, but…” I trail off, the erotic tension building within. “I think I can handle it. Just for one day.”

I step away from my easel, strolling towards the bedroom and then stopping in the doorway. Jorf holds my gaze for a long beat, then stands up and saunters towards me.

A sneeze erupts from my nostrils, then another, and another, but it’s not enough to deter my focus.

“You fuck me up all the time,” I coo. “Might as well fuck me up in a fun way.”

My words push us over the edge, erupting in a fit of passion. We rush together, our lips meeting as our hands immediately get to work exploring each other’s bodies. The pollen is swirling around me now, but I can’t bring myself to care, instead focused on the topography of my physically manifested lover.

My hands start at the top of Jorf’s frame, tracing my fingers along his petals and then working my way down. I take note of every organic curve and slope, teasing his stem.

The massive flower works me in turn, peeling away that fabric that separates us. He undresses me swiftly, pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing it to the side. My pants come next. Soon enough, I’m standing completely naked before him, my skin tingling in the warm cabin air.

I remain focused on the task at hand, allowing my attention to drift lower and lower across Jorf’s form. I can see now that his cock is beginning to swell, an enormous green rocket of flesh jutting out from his floral form. It’s aching for my touch, that much is clear, but I take my time. I trace my fingers back and forth across the sentient flower’s waistline, teasing him with the prosect of something more and taking note of the way his body reacts.

“Please,” the physical manifestation of my seasonal allergies whimpers in my ear.

I finally have mercy, reaching down and wrapping my hand around his swollen cock. Jorf lets out a long, satisfied groan, his head tilting back as the pleasure washes over him. I slowly begin to pump my fist across his length, patiently working him as he pushes his hips back against me. Our bodies are grinding together now, faster and faster as the two of us continue making out with one another.

We fall into a steady rhythm, but it’s here that I change things up. Instead of continuing down this path I drop to my knees, gazing up at Jorf with cock hungry eyes. I playfully lick his massive green rod from base to tip, then kiss the head of his shaft.

When it’s time to get to work I open wide, taking his shaft between my lips and slowly pumping my head up and down across his length. I move deliberately, falling into the natural rhythm of his body and then slowly gaining speed. With my now free hand I reach up and cradle his hanging balls, only adding to the sensations that swirl within him.

I’m sucking Jorf off with furious enthusiasm, bobbing my face across his cock at such a frantic pace that, eventually, more speed is no longer an option. It’s here that I pull back and release the cock from within my mouth, taking a moment to gather my senses. A long strand of saliva hands between my lips and the head of his shaft.

My eyes are watering now, not due to the ferocious blowjob, but all of the pollen that dances through the air. I sneeze, then sneeze again, but it’s still not enough to quell the incredible desire within me.

Not wasting any time, I swallow Jorf’s seasonal allergy rod yet again, only now I’ve switched up my technique. Instead of pumping my face across his dick, I just push further and further down, somehow managing to relax my gag reflex and taking him all the way to the base. I hold like this in a stunning deep throat maneuver, showing off my oral acrobatics and allowing the physical manifestation of my seasonal allergies a moment to enjoy his position of dominance.

Eventually, I’m forced to pull back when I run out of air. I erupt off of the living concept’s cock in a sputtering mess, wild-eyed and hungry for more.

“Fuck me!” I snarl, climbing to my feet and strutting over to the bed. I crawl out onto the blankets, swaying my ass from side to side as I go, then stop and give one cheek a firm slap. “Get over here.”

The physical manifestation of my seasonal allergies does as he’s told, floating down into position behind me. He teases the rim of my butt for a moment with his giant cock, pushing against my anal seal and then pulling back just as he’s about to slip through. He’s teasing me, taking a page from the playbook I’d used on him just moments earlier.

Finally, Jorf has mercy and pushes deep with a single, confident thrust.

Despite knowing this was coming, a startled yelp escapes my lips. My fingers grab the blankets as I struggle to accept his massive size. Taking Jorf into my throat had been one thing, but it seems that my ass isn’t quite as mailable as I thought.

“Oh fuck,” I sigh, my eyes rolling back into my head as I struggle to accept his gargantuan cock.

Fortunately, Jorf is a patient and caring lover. Instead of immediately getting to work, the physical manifestation stays planted deep within me, holding tight and allowing my body a moment to adjust.

There’s an aching discomfort at the pit of my stomach, but the longer we stay like this, the more it starts to melt away. Soon enough, these feelings have been consumed by a potent warmth, a sensation that gradually begins to make its way out across my arms and legs and fills me up completely.

It’s in this moment that I recognize Jorf’s deep, unwavering care for me. This physical manifestation of my seasonal allergies may be annoying, but he does have my best interest at heart. Ultimately, he really is just a part of my immune system, which is a very important thing when you ignore all of that pesky misfiring and over reaction.

Jorf slowly begins to grind against my body, reading my reactions and finding a steady, comfortable pace. The pleasure is moving back and forth between us, a loop that builds and builds with every passing round.

“Just like that, just like that,” I murmur under my breath, my words gradually escalating in volume. Soon enough they’re spilling out of my mouth with gusto, my unbridled vocalizations filling the cabin. “Just like that! Just like that!”

By now, Jorf and me have found a confident pace together, the physical manifestation of my seasonal allergies slamming into my ass with all of his strength. Every slap of his hips against my rump sends a pulse of glorious sensation through my frame, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of a powerful orgasm.

I reach down and grab ahold of my hanging cock, pumping my fist across my length. I fall into a slightly different pace than Jorf’s thrusting, these two distinct sources of pleasure mixing together in a swirling, beautiful, polyrhythm. It creates something wholly unique within me, my muscles clenching and releasing in mighty waves.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna,” I start, gasping as I struggle to hold back the sensations that have swelled within my body and are now threatening to break free. “I’m gonna cum!”

I throw my head back and let out a wild scream, my final word transforming into a belligerent howl. Pleasure surges through me, overwhelming my senses as hot white jizz erupts from the head of my cock, splattering across the blankets below.

In this moment, I suddenly feel as though I’m floating outside of myself, gazing down at my body from above and understanding my physically manifested lover on a much deeper level than before.

I’d been so caught up in the importance of my own immune system that I hadn’t even considered the importance of Torgin himself. Flowers need to pollenate, as annoying as that can be sometimes. He is crafting an ecosystem, not just for the other flowers and plants, but for all creatures who call this natural landscape home.

Jorf keeps hammering away at me with everything he’s got, carrying me through the entirety of my climax. When I’m finally finished, he pushed deep and unleashes a payload of his own, filling me up with his spunk. I can feel the physical manifestation’s giant cock twitching within me, spurting forth pump after pump until there’s simply no room left and his seed comes spilling out from my tightly packed rim.

The two of us collapse in a pile, my ass fucked and my nose running.

“That was ah—ah,” I start, then blast out an unexpected sneeze. “Amazing,” I finally finish.

“It was,” the physical manifestation of my allergies agrees. “Does that mean you’re gonna stay here for a while?”

“Fuck no,” I reply, sitting up. I stand and begin to pull on my clothes. “I understand that you’re not trying to hurt me, and that my immune system is very important, but this is awful.”

Jorf seems disappointed by this, but understanding. “I get it,” he says.

When I’m finished getting dressed I stroll over and give him a kiss. “But, I’ll be back,” I reveal.

“You will?”

I nod. “I’m gonna go get some medication and then I’ll stay for the weekend, if you’ll have me.”

“You’re not worried about a runny nose or clogged sinuses?” he asks.

“I mean, I am,” I admit, “but I’m not gonna let it ruin my trip.”