This Sentient Hot Sauce Destroys My Ass In A Good Way

 Rory is a chili fiend on the hunt for culinary thrills. He’s tasted the spiciest hot sauces in the world, yet he still craves more. Unfortunately, it appears Rory’s journey might be winding doing as he confronts the fact that there’s probably no spicier condiment left to taste.

When Rory has a chance meeting with a sentient hot sauce at the farm down the road, however, he begins to realize there’s more to flavor than just heat.

Soon enough, this handsome living liquid is going to work on Rory’s ass, but will it be enough to satisfy Rory’s unquenching craving for spice.

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay sentient hot sauce action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and living condiment love.

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THIS SENTIENT HOT SAUCE DESTROYS MY ASS IN A GOOD WAY

By Chuck Tingle

To say I like spicy food would be an understatement. I crave it, seek it out in ways most folks would find a little strange, if not obsessive.

         I see myself as more than just an eater. I’m a culinary explorer, an adventurer in the outer reaches of flavor and, some would say, comfort. I’m into pushing my boundaries and seeing how far I can take myself, becoming one with the heat as it tingles across my face and up into my sinus cavity.

         I love it, but it’s an admittedly brutal pursuit, a search for pleasure in a world of pain.

         At least, it used to be.

         Unfortunately, like all sensations that push past the edge of our regular human comforts, our body adapts. I’ve been chasing this spicy high for a long time, and with every sniff and snort of some mighty, specially bred chili I lose a little of the sensitivity within me. These borders can only be ignored for so long until you realize that the border is no longer there.

         These days, my craving for spicy flavors is difficult to satiate, and lately I’ve been wondering if it’s even possible to attain the high of my previous chili pepper kicks.

         “You tried this one?” I ask, carefully taking a bottle of hot sauce from the shelf before me, then turning to face my friend Glop behind the register.

         Glop laughs and nods. “It’s a good one. Scoville’s are off the charts.”

         I turn the tiny little bottle in my hand, reading the ingredients. I mumble the names of each pepper to myself, these words nimbly slipping off my tongue in a causal, natural flow. I’ve said them a thousand times before, fully aware of each intricate detail that these flavors will offer. By simply glancing at these ingredients I can manifest the taste within my mind, get a picture of the way it will roll across my tongue and the heat it will produce.

         “Looks interesting,” is all I can think to say.

         Glop immediately picks up on the disappointment behind my tone. He’s known me long enough to catch it.

         “What’s wrong? I thought you were here to try out some new stuff,” he questions.

         “More heat,” I reply. “I’m looking for more heat.”

         My friend smiles and nods. “I might have something.”

         I laugh, then shake my head. “I’ve already gone through the cabinet with all your hottest stuff,” I explain. “I’ve been coming here for years.”

         “Well, maybe you’re finally ready for the bottle I don’t put out on display,” he retorts.

         My breath catches, slapped in the face by the realization that I finally might be on to something.

         Glop steps out from around the counter and motions for me to follow him.

         I do as I’m told, and soon enough the two of us are making our way down a long aisle of sauces, the bottles stacked floor to ceiling on either side of us. Most of them are a shade of brilliant red or orange, but a few offer green liquid within. The graphic designs vary from offering to offering, but most of them sport some kind of aggressive depiction: a bomb going off, a bull charging, or the grim reaper standing tall with a mighty scythe raised behind his skeletal head.

         We don’t slow down, pushing onward until we reach a door at the end of this aisle. It’s here that Glop pulls a set of keys from his pocket, searching through this glittering stash of metal and then finally selecting the right one. He slips it into the door’s lock, giving a slight jiggle.

         “You really have to keep this stuff locked up?” I ask.

         My friend pauses, silently glancing back over his shoulder for a moment and then returning his focus to the lock.

         There’s a click and the door finally swings open, revealing a small back room that I’ve never seen before. This space is much less cluttered than the rest of the store, the racks of bottles giving way to a pristine simplicity of bare white walls. I feel like I’m about to buy a computer, or an electric car, but instead of any cutting edge tech device I’m greeted by a small pedestal at the dead center of the room. The platform is approximately waist height, with a single flask of hot sauce sitting atop it.

         “Oh wow,” I murmur, immediately taking note of this little bottle’s quiet power. While other hot sauce products are concerned with flashy designs and brilliant colors, this one is shockingly plain. There’s a front label on the hot sauce, but there are no words to be found—only a simple, singular image of a pepper.

         “You interested?” Glop asks. “It’s the hottest thing we’ve got. Dangerously hot, actually. I don’t wanna get myself in trouble if this ends up hurting someone, so I tend to keep it to myself, but I think you’re ready.”

         “Have you tasted it?” I ask.

         Glop nods. “Just a drop, once. I could feel the heat for a week afterwards. This thing has been scientifically engineered from the ground up to give maximum spice. It’s the perfect hot sauce.”

         I can feel the tingle of anticipation building within me, a nervous excitement washing over my nervous system and filling me with its potent energy. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for, a real challenge.

         “You want the bottle?” Glop asks. “You can try a drop first.”

         “I can?” I blurt, amazed by his generosity.

         My friend nods, then leaves the room. When he returns he’s carrying a single chicken wing on a small plate. He hands over the morsel. “Give it a shot.”

         I approach the bottle slowly, treating it like some kind of ancient artifact that may or may not be booby-trapped. The second I pick it up, will a giant boulder start rolling down from up above?

         Of course, when I lift the flask from its platform this doesn’t happen. The hot sauce simply exists within my grip, waiting for me to unleash its fury upon my tastebuds.

         I set my plate where the bottle one rested, then unscrew the top. I tap out a generous dollop onto the chicken wing, taking note of this sauce’s particularly bright red hue. It looks vibrant against the skin of the wing below, almost neon.

         “You sure you wanna do this?” Glop asks, already knowing the answer but going through the motions anyway.

         I nod, then lift the wing to my mouth and take a bite.

         The sizzle is immediate, a gentle sensation that starts on my lips and then swells across the entirety of my mouth. I smile instinctually, noting this reaction as a good indication of what’s to come. Every sauce has its own pace, a journey from beginning to end, and it’s been a while since one of these little bottles has gotten off to the races so quickly.

         I glance over at Glop, who’s watching me with an unexpected expression. I figured I’d catch a look of delight or excitement, but the only thing I see staring back at me is grave concern.

         “It’s good,” I tell him, nodding confidently as I wait for the sensation to evolve.

         The tingling that covers my face begins to build, mutating slowly into something even more vicious. I can feel the heat bubbling up and consuming everything, the fire that I’ve been craving finally announcing itself to my tastebuds, but just as it seems like this feeling is going to spill over into a full blown five-alarm frenzy, it stops.

         The sizzle levels out, then slowly begins to subside.

         I furrow my brow, confused at first and then deeply disappointed as I recognize what’s happening. The peak I was waiting for has already been reached, and now were sliding back down the other side.

         So much for the perfect hot sauce.

         I shake my head. “I’m sorry… that’s not quite it.”

         Glop is in utter shock. “Are you serious?” he questions, then quickly shifts into skepticism. “You’re fucking with me. You’ve gotta be fucking with me.”

         “It’s just… not that spicy,” I reply.

         I hand my friend the plate, taking my half eaten wing and making my way past him. I continue on through the store, down this aisle of failed flavors.

         “I’ll see you next time!” I call back over my shoulder, pushing out the front door of Glop’s Hot Sauce House and into the afternoon sun.

         The heat of the day is much more impressive than the sauce that’s already fading from my lips, greeting me with it’s pleasant warmth. I didn’t drive here, opting instead to walk the mile and treat myself to a little bit of fresh air.

         With all this disappointment bubbling within, I’m thankful to have a little stroll ahead. Driving back home would be fine, but when emotions are heightened there’s rarely anything better than a long walk to blow off some steam.

         I start walking, my thoughts a tangled mess as I try and fail to quantify my feelings. I’ve been seeking the ultimate spice level for a long time, and the potential end of this journey should fill me with a sense of accomplishment, shouldn’t it? If there’s nothing spicier than this. I’ve reached the pinnacle.

         Supposedly.

         But this hunt has been a part of my life for so long that its ending is equally filled with disappointment. The road I’ve been traveling is a dead end, and what do I have to show for it?

         Of course, the literal road I’m on is far from a dead end. Instead, it stretches on and on into the distance, cutting its way through a wide swath of farmland. The path is straight and static, little variation along the way, but eventually I find myself passing a lengthy gravel drive that shoots out perpendicular, cutting into one of the fields.

         A sign has been posted here, and the words immediately stop me in my tracks.

         Fresh, homemade hot sauce. The spiciest you’ve ever had.

         After my recent disappointment, I’m skeptical of this claim. I move to stroll on past, to forget this last shred of my previous interest and continue on with my life, but my body refuses to budge. No matter how much my brain insists we keep going, there’s something holding me in place.

         Finally, I let out a long sigh, giving in to the temptation. I turn and make my way down the long gravel road.

         Soon enough, a large farmhouse is looming before me. Before it, nestled by the side of the road, is a small wooden stand. There’s a sign hanging from the front, with two simple words that I read aloud. “Hot sauce.”

         The second I say this I’m greeted by an abrupt movement. A large bottle steps out from the shack, smiling warmly as he greets me. He’s utterly enormous, much larger than the other bottle’s I’ve been sampling from today. In fact, this hot sauce is approximately the same size I am.

         “Oh, hi!” I blurt.

         “Hey there,” the hot sauce replies. “I’m Yippy.”

         “Rory. I hear you’ve got some good sauce here.”

         “You’re looking at it,” the living bottle replies.

         He opens his arms in a confident pose, showing off the goods. The sentient condiment is made of transparent glass and filled to the brim with liquid. The sauce itself has a nice, reddish hue, vibrant and exciting without seeming needy. A label is wrapped around the front of the bottle, from which the living object’s face protrudes.

         I’m immediately struck by just how handsome Yippy is, unable to deny my attraction to this breathtaking sauce.

         “I suppose you’re here for a taste,” he continues.

         My head nods before I even get a chance to process this question.

         Yippy’s expression faulters suddenly. He quells his excitement, as if now realizing that he’s already taken things too far. “Oh, right,” I mutters to himself, then turns his attention back to me. “I’m sorry, I should probably take that sign down.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         The hot sauce lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. “It’s been a really long time,” he admits. “So long that it turns out my cap has sealed on tight. I don’t know what happened but… I haven’t been able to get off in years.”

         “Get off in years?” I repeat back.

         “Get it off,” he blurts, but the damage is already done. There’s no denying the erotic tension that has bloomed between us, hovering in the air and swirling through every word.

         “That’s too bad,” I say. “I was looking for something really spicy.”

         “I’m spicy,” he assures me.

         “You look like it.”

         Again, the tension builds, our attraction growing larger and larger by the second.

         “You want me to help you get that cap off?” I ask.

         Yippy shakes his head. “Trust me, it’s stuck on tight. It’s a lost cause.”

         “What if you loosen up a bit?”

         The sentient condiment considers this. “Loosen up how?”

         I hesitate, my heart slamming within my chest. I realize suddenly that this moment is one of vast importance, capable of sending us down two very different paths. If the carnal tension we’ve been cultivating is real, then I know exactly what I’d like to say, but if it’s all in my head…

         I let this thought trail off, refusing to dwell on the negatives. Life is too short not to go for it. I enjoy hot sauce for the thrills, after all.

         “I can think of a few ways to help you loosen up,” I coo, sauntering towards him.

         My eyes are glued to Yippy’s, anxious to witness his impending reaction. Soon enough, we’re only a foot away from one another, staring each other down.

         “Maybe you can help me then,” the living hot sauce finally retorts. He winks.

         Suddenly the two of us are rushing together, our lips meeting in a passionate embrace. My hands immediately begin to explore the glorious gradual curve of his hot sauce form, making their way around the bottle with curious enthusiasm. I start at the top of his glass frame and then work my way down, slowly moving across his body as the tension between us builds.

         Yippy touches me in turn, his hands working their magic as he strips away the layers of my clothing. My skin sizzles as it’s exposed to the pleasant warmth of the radiant sun above, gradually freed from my fabric prison in a step by step process that eventually leaves me completely naked.

         All the while, we continue making out with one another, our lips locked as our tongues push back and forth. I’m shocked there’s no heat rushing across my face, but deeper consideration makes it obvious why. Yippy’s cap is still screwed on tight.

         As my hands creep lower I notice a giant cock begin to emerge from the front of his body, this beautiful rod standing tall as it juts out towards me in all of its glory. He’s waiting for me to wrap my fingers around it, but I hesitate at Yippy’s waistline. Instead of pushing onward, I take a moment to trace my fingers back and forth along this forbidden border, allowing the tension within him to build.

         “I need it,” he finally whispers, groaning into my ear as his hips push hard against my body. He’s unable to contain his yearning any longer, this ache within him finally bubbling up and spilling over.

         I have mercy. I reach down and take his cock within my hand, a move that cause an abrupt gasp to slip from between Yippy’s lips. The two of us immediately fall into sync with one another, our bodies rubbing slowly before escalating their speed. The grinding grows faster and faster as the pleasure within this handsome hot sauce bottle builds, threatening to erupt.

         I realize suddenly that Yippy could cum at any moment, that our mission could easily be over in a matter of seconds. It’s here that I pull back, accepting that this whole encounter has grown to be so much more than a utilitarian task. Yes, we’re trying to loosen up Yippy’s cap, but the carnal pleasure moving between us is also something to behold.

         Sometimes it’s about the journey, not the destination.

         With this in mind, I release my grip and then slowly drop down before the handsome living object. I gaze up at Yippy with cock hungry eyes, allowing his massive dick to hover just inches from my mouth and then gracefully slipping him between my lips. I bob up and down on the hot sauce’s cock, servicing him diligently. I fall into pace with the hand that came before, pumping my face over his shaft and cradling his balls with my gentle fingers.

         Eventually, I pull back and release his cock from my depths, but this pause is short lived. When I return to the mission I take a different approach, opening wide and swallowing Yippy in a singular, powerful movement. The hot sauce’s dick slips down my throat, somehow making its way past my gag reflex and finally coming to rest when my face presses hard against his stomach. Now swallowed to the hilt, I hold him in this position for as long as I possibly can, allowing Yippy a moment to savor his place of dominance in this breathtaking deep-throat maneuver.

         The hot sauce reaches down and rests his hands on the back of my head, holding me here until I finally run out of breath and pull back with a gasp.

         My eyes wild and belligerent, I fall to my hands and knees and turn away from the sentient condiment. I reach back and give my ass a playful slap, then hold myself open in an erotic anal display. “You like what you see?” I coo.

         The hot sauce nods.

         “Then come get it,” I demand.

         Yippy doesn’t need to be told twice, climbing down into position behind me and aligning his mammoth dick with my tightly puckered backdoor. He teases me for a moment, allowing his head a brief test against my anal seal and then pulling back before he gets the chance to pop inside. The living hot sauce does this a few times, then finally has mercy as he slides deep into my ass.

         A startled yelp escapes from my throat as he enters me, not entirely prepared for his incredible size. My fingers grip tight into the ground below, bracing myself against the weight of his cylindrical glass frame while my asshole is stretched to its absolute limit.

         Fortunately, Yippy takes his time with me, allowing my body a moment to adjust to his incredible size. To be perfectly honest, the first thing I feel is discomfort, but gradually this sensation begins to melt again, replaced instead by a potent warmth at the pit of my stomach. Yippy slowly begins to rock against my body, taking his time as this gentle sway transforms into a deep grind. It’s not long before to the two of us have fallen into a confident rhythm with one another, his hips slapping against my rump to a steady beat.

         I can feel the pleasure building, the warmth spilling out across my arms and legs as it traces my nervous system and fills the entirety of my frame. It gluts me with a sense of gleeful pressure, a sizzling, humming buzz that tickles every inch of my body and as we edge closer and closer to an inevitable eruption.

         By now Yippy’s pounds have reached a mighty slam, hammering away at my ass with everything that he’s got.

         “Just like that! Just like that!” I cry out, egging him on. “Blow out that fucking ass with your hot sauce cock!”

         I reach down with one hand and begin to beat myself off, matching the pace of the living condiment’s pounds. This only adds to the pleasure that’s building within me, the massive wall of carnal bliss rising higher and higher, just aching to crest and sweep me away in its wonderful embrace.

         “Oh fuck,” I suddenly blurt, realizing the time has arrived. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum!”

         I throw my head back and let out an unbridled howl of passion, completely losing myself in the moment as hot white jizz erupts from the head of my shaft and splatters across the ground below in glorious, pearly patterns. Yippy continues hammering away at my ass, carrying me through this incredible climax from start to finish.

         When he’s finally done the gorgeous hot sauce pulls out of me, and it’s in this moment that I notice the cap that once sat atop his head has twisted loose and tumbled off into the dirt nearby. The pressure has been relieved, and a tasty mouthful of his delicious, spicy nectar is ready. Of course, I’m not interested in taking my sample by any old traditional method, not after all this.

         Not with that mammoth cock waiting directly before my wet, hungry lips.

         I immediately begin to suck Yippy off, pumping my head across his rod in a state of rabid enthusiasm. It only takes a few movements before he’s ready to blow, and the next thing I know my mouth is flooded with Yippy’s tangy red hot sauce.

         The liquid spills from his shaft at an incredible rate, swiftly filling my mouth and then spilling down my chin as it struggle to keep up with the pace of his mighty load. I swallow as much as I can, but it’s still not enough to keep the sauce from sloppily gushing down the front of my body.

         I stumble back, absolutely soaked with his spicy jizz as I sprawl out across the ground. Yippy has finally finished, a notable drop in his internal volume, but right now that’s the last thing on my mind. My focus is on my tastebuds, patiently await this flavorful journey to begin.

         It happens almost immediately, the potent sizzle flaring up within me and causing my face to disappear in a sweep of numbness. It’s hot, very hot, and as this realization washes over me I can’t help the smile that makes its way across my lips.

         I’d been search for so long for something new—something that would push every technical boundary in the world of culinary science—and little did I know the real answer was waiting for me just down the road at this quaint local farm.

         Of course, there’s nothing wrong with either approach, but I certainly know the one I prefer.

         I take a deep breath and let it out, my eyes starting to well with tears.

         “Oh boy,” I gush, chuckling to myself as I sit upright.

         “Spicy?” the sentient condiment asks.

         I nod, glancing behind him. I notice now that there’s an enormous jug of water sitting behind the counter of Yippy’s stand, looking absolutely glorious as it glints under the warm sun.

         A seasoned adventurer like me shouldn’t be asking for a drink, in fact, most folks in the foodie spice scenes I run in look down on it, but right now I don’t give a shit. I’m sick of playing by the rules.

         The living object follows my gaze, then grins. “Drink?” he offers.

         I nod, and Yippy generously strolls over to grab the water jug. He brings it over to me and unscrews the cap, pouring the cool liquid into my mouth. I swallow, then keep swallowing, savoring as much of this glorious refreshment as I can get.

         Yippy notices how frantically I’m guzzling down the water and his expression shifts. “Too spicy?” he asks, a little worried now.

         I finally pull away from the water bottle, shaking my head profusely. “Too spicy is just right,” I assure him. “This is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

         I reach out and pull Yippy close, embracing him warmly.

         “I just didn’t know where to find it.”