Pounded By The Physical Manifestation Of The Weird Dull Sadness That Happens After The Holidays End And January Rolls Around

As the new year begins, Tyler finds himself feeling unusually down. The excitement and novelty of the winter holidays has fallen away, leaving a cold chill in the air and a strange living concept on Tyler’s apartment couch. This is Bork, the physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around.

Tyler tries his best to ignore Bork, filling his days with activity, but unfortunately this manifestation seems to follow Tyler wherever he goes. It’s not until Tyler actually confronts his lonesome mood head on that he makes an important discovery.

Maybe feeling a little down sometimes is normal. Now Tyler and Bork are realizing there’s more to the tension between them than just seasonal sadness, and they’re ready to work it out with a hardcore anal pounding.

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on lonesome feelings action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and gay living concept love.

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POUNDED BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF THE WEIRD DULL SADNESS THAT HAPPENS AFTER THE HOLIDAYS END AND JANUARY ROLLS AROUND

By Chuck Tingle

There are plenty of reasons to maintain friendships, but today this simple social connection feels especially important. It’s in our nature to form communities after all, building support systems for moments just like this.

Three knocks rattle confidently against my apartment door, prompting me to jump up from the couch and hurry over. I pull it open just a crack, then peek my head out, smiling as I discover my buddy Gordo standing patiently before me.

“Hey, just as second,” I offer. “I’ll grab my coat.”

Gordo smiles back, but his expression falters when he realizes I won’t be inviting him in. He stands on his tip-toes, trying his best to see around me and get a view of the apartment.

I close the door, then hurry over to grab my jacket from a nearby hanger.

When I try leaving the second time, however, Gordo stands in my path.

“What’s going on in there?” my friend questions.

“Nothing,” I blurt, trying to squeeze past him without opening the door too far.

Gordo gazes around me, furrowing his brow when he catches a glimpse of someone sitting quietly on the chair in the living room.

“What the hell is that?” my friend continues.

“Nothing!” I insist, then lower my voice to a hushed whisper. “I’ll tell you on the walk.”

Gordo finally relents and moves out of the way, allowing me to exit my apartment and close the door behind me. I already know what he’s seen: a strange cloud of swirling energy with a chiseled, handsome face. It was inevitable, I suppose, but now I’m flooded with the dreadful knowledge that there’s no turning back from this conversation.

I continue down the front walk as Gordo hesitates, then hurries after.

“So, we gonna talk about that?” my friend questions.

I let out a long sigh as we reach the sidewalk, the cold January air washing across my skin. “I’m trying my best to ignore it, so I’d rather not,” I admit.

It’s my hope this simple explanation will be enough for Gordo, but after an encounter with the bizarre hazy form in my apartment, it appears my desires may be wishful thinking.

“Uh, I’m confused,” my friend admits, falling into step next to me as we make our way up the sidewalk. “Seriously Tyler, who was that?”

I realize now that my pithy explanations are only going to make things worse. I still plan on ignoring the annoying presence in my home, but before I can cut these mental ties I need to help Gordo understand what’s going on. If I don’t, his curiosity will just hang over this afternoon and never dissipate.

I stop a moment, turning to face my friend. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you exactly what’s going on, but after that you’ve gotta drop it. The whole point is ignoring this feeling until it goes away.”

“This feeling?” Gordo questions. “What do you mean this feeling?”

“That haze was the physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around,” I explain. “It’s like, we have Thanksgiving and Hanukkah and Christmas and New Year’s Eve all back to back at the end of the year, and it can be really fun. The problem is, the day New Year’s Eve ends you suddenly find yourself in the dead of Winter with nothing to look forward to.”

Gordo listens intently, nodding along. “I mean, there’s plenty to look forward to,” he explains. “You’ll see your family again, you’ll have hobbies and play games.”

“I know, I know,” I reply. “You’re right, and logically speaking that makes perfect sense. The issue is, my downer feeling is still there. It’s a chemical thing, you know? We spend all that dopamine and then suddenly we’re dropped back into the coldest, darkest time of year.”

I trail off, a solemn emotional weight pushing down on me from above now. This has been happening a lot over the last few days, my mind feeling absent and disconnected from the world around me.

I take a moment to focus up, returning my attention to Gordo.

“Anyway, since I started feeling this way that weird haze has been hanging around,” I explain. “I don’t want to give him any attention, though. I think it’s best to just ignore him entirely.”

“And go on afternoon walks through the neighborhood?” my friend questions.

I nod. “Anything to keep my mind occupied.”

Gordo considers this, a knowing smile creeping its way across his face. “I think we can do better than a walk,” he offers. “You up for an adventure?”

“Hell yeah,” I reply, forcing myself to sound excited.

Deep down, I know this enthusiasm is strained, but I’m willing to give it my best shot.

As I step into the batting cage a surge of excitement washes over me, a welcome sensation I haven’t felt for a long time. It comes swift and mighty, as though some potent compound has been injected into my veins.

A grin creeps its way across my face, briefly transforming what I was worried might’ve been a permanent frown.

Gordo watches from just outside this chain-link cage — a happily cheering one man audience.

It’s moments like this I truly appreciate Gordo. He really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, taking me under his wing for a day of unbridled fun and chaotic joy. At least, that’s the goal.

So far, so good.

I step into position over the plate, pulling back my wooden bat and closely watching the machine before me as it whirrs to life. Any second a baseball will come flying out from the depths of this contraption, rocketing towards me at lightening speeds. Whether or not I’ll actually hit the thing is anyone’s guess, but the more I focus on trying, the less I’m thinking about anything else.

There’s a rattle and a hollow pop as the first ball hurtles towards me, ten times faster than I could’ve imagined. The ball whips past and slams into the net behind, zooming with so much force I feel the air pulse against my skin.

I’m stunned, utterly shocked by the speed.

Suddenly, I start to laugh.

Another ball comes flying past and I’m forced to ignore it completely, caught up in my giggling fit as Gordo joins the fray. Soon enough, we’re both howling with laugher, unable to control this bubbling chorus of giggles that spew from our throats.

“Okay, okay,” I stammer, trying my best to calm down. “I got this.”
 I return to the plate, already on my fifth ball without taking a single swing. This time the incredible speed is not so much of a surprise, allowing me a chance to take my first swing.

I connect, the baseball hurling back the way it came with a loud, metallic clink!

I can feel the might of my swing radiating all the way down from the tip of the bat to the pocket of my shoulder, somehow mustering up a form that impresses even myself.

“Tyler! Yes!” Gordo shouts.

I glance over at him, planning to offer a playfully confident smirk and then stopping in my tracks. Instead of a mischievous expression, I find myself painted with shock, then disappointment.

Floating behind Gordo is the hovering ache of sadness that I’d left back in my apartment. Somehow this haze has followed us, the physical manifestation sitting quiet and lonesome in the background.

Another ball shoots past me, but I hardly notice. Just seeing this strange physical manifestation has sucked all the air from the room, a reminder of the terrible feeling that lies just below the surface.

“You alright?” Gordo calls out.

I hardly hear him, my friend’s voice sounding distant and vague. Instead, my attention remains on this terrible cloud of sadness.

A few more balls fly by, until eventually my friend just shuts off the machine early.

“Sorry,” I blurt, struggling to collect my senses. “Let’s get outta here. You wanna grab some cherry pie or something?”

Gordo laughs. “Why pie?”

“It’s hard to have a bad time while you’re eating pie,” I reply.

Soon enough, the two of us are taking off and strolling up the block to a local diner. The hazy physical manifestation stays behind, lingering as I nervously glance over my shoulder, until eventually he disappears from view.

My friend doesn’t seem to notice, but by now the arrival of this haunting living concept is all I can think about. After a brief moment of levity, I’ve ended up right where I started, unable to focus on anything else.

Then again, I haven’t ordered a delicious slice of pie yet. The batting cages were fun, but they were Gordo’s idea. This is all me, so maybe my mood will fare a little better at the restaurant.

The afternoon is brisk so we walk fast, bundled up tight. It’s not long until we’ve made it to Borson’s Eatery on the corner, a cozy little place I’ve been going to for years. There’s something gloriously welcoming about this spot, safe and warm and full of life, even when the tables are mostly empty.

A waitress greets us at the door, leading Gordo and me to our table and seating us with a smile. She passes out two menus and lets us know she’ll be right back, but before she has a chance to leave I call out to stop her.

“Actually, we already know what we want,” I explain. “Two slices of cherry pie and two large glasses of chocolate milk.”

The waitress can’t help grinning even wider at the unabashed confidence in our order. Just two guys on a mission.

Our server leaves and we fall into silence for a moment. I can tell something’s on Gordo’s mind again.

“We got out of there pretty fast,” Gordo finally states. “You sure you’re alright?”

“It was the living concept again,” I explain. “The physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around.”

My friend’s eyes go wide, a little surprised by this. “Wait, I thought you left him at home.”

“I thought I did, too,” I admit. “It’s like… no matter how hard I try I can’t get away from him.”

The second I say this, my gaze drifts over Gorgo’s shoulder and lands on the strange oppressive haze that floats right outside the diner’s window. The figure is just hanging there, drifting through the cool air and watching my friend and me in our both.

Gordo glances back, finally locking eyes with our unexpected pursuer.

“Oh, yeah,” my friend asserts. “There he is.”

“I’m so sick of this shit,” I blurt, even more annoyed than before.

“I know, I know,” Gordo offers. “Why don’t we see what happens when your pie gets here? Nothing’s gonna chase away that lonesome feeling like a delicious slice of cherry pie.”

I appreciate his confidence, but at this point I’m not so sure.

Our meals finally arrive and we swiftly dive in, not wasting any time. I use my fork to cut off the delicious tip of my triangular dessert, taking in its beautiful flakey curst with my eyes before my taste buds get the chance.

It looks absolutely incredible, and when the pie hits my tongue I find myself overwhelmed with sensation. A surge of pleasure courses through me in a sugary wave. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that I actually shut my eyes to chew, as though limiting myself in the realm of one sense will bring me even more accuracy with the other.

“Whoa,” is all I can think to say, this one word review spilling out of my throat the moment I swallow.

I open my eyes, feeling like a new man, but the second I do this I immediately come crashing back down to earth. The physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around is still there, hovering exactly where I last spotted him.

Of course, if this living concept just up and disappeared it would be a little too simple, but I can’t say I wasn’t holding out hope. Now, hope is the last thing on my mind.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta get out of here,” I blurt, my frustration finally getting the best of me.

I stand abruptly and toss my friend more than enough cash to pay for my side of the meal. I’m sick of this, and I’m heading home.

I push open the door of my apartment to find the strange haze sitting in exactly the same spot I left him. His nature as a living concept makes him terrifyingly fast, following me around town with ease.

I let out an annoyed sigh, kind of expecting him to be here but still unwilling to quell my disappointed reaction.

It appears ignoring this swirling ache of sadness didn’t help, but that doesn’t mean I need to work on his schedule. Instead of sitting right down, I stroll over to the kitchen and fix myself a stiff glass of chocolate milk, forgoing my usual almond variety and opting for the two percent.

I take a long swig, savoring the frothy, sugary flavor, then walk over and flop onto my couch that sits across from this physical manifestation. I stare at the lonesome feeling for a moment, then finally clear my throat.

“Hey,” is all I can think to offer, the first time I’ve actually acknowledged this sadness.

The physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around turns to look at me, his eyes going wide when he spots me here on the couch. “Oh, I didn’t see you there,” he states.

I can’t help but scoff. “You didn’t see me? You’ve been following me around all day.”

The physical manifestation offers an understanding smile. “More like you were carrying me around all day,” he explains. “Remember, I’m just an extension of you. I don’t exist unless you let me.”

I furrow my brow. “Wait, really?”

“Yep,” he replies with a nod. “That doesn’t make me any less potent, or real,” he clarifies. “I’m very real. The point is, I’m not exactly easy to ignore. You can go for a walk all you want, but you can’t just leave your brain behind.”

“Walks help,” I state.

“They do,” the physical manifestation agrees. “For some people that’s all it takes. Not always, though.”

The two of us fall into another silence, staring at one another across the room.

“My name is Bork,” the physical manifestation finally introduces himself, trying his best to clear the air.

“I’m Tyler,” I reply.

“I get the feeling you’re upset with me,” Bork continues. “That’s fine, but honestly I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what happens when you experience a long period of happiness and joy, your body needs to refuel. As long as it doesn’t completely take over your life or last forever, this feeling is actually pretty natural.”

I know he’s right, but that doesn’t necessarily make me feel better. Regardless, I’m glad to know this living concept is actually trying to help.

“What should I do then?” I question. “Help me. I hate feeling like this.”

“Well, you did make onemistake,” Bork explains. “Ignoring your feelings doesn’t make things any better. You need to confront them and accept them, like you’re doing right now. This is the first time we’ve actually talked, so you’re on the right track.”

I hadn’t really considered this, but the realization sparks a flicker of hope somewhere deep inside. A genuine smile creeps its way across my face — slight and subtle, but it’s there.

“So now that we’ve had this talk, you think I might start feeling better?” I question.

“It’s a first step,” the physical manifestation replies. “We can test it out if you’d like. What’s something that usually brings you joy?”
 I consider this a moment, various options fluttering through my mind. One in particular actually causes me to laugh aloud, which catches Bork’s attention.

“What is it?” the physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around asks.

I shake my head. “It’s stupid. I was just thinking that a good fuck usually cheers me up.”

I say this flippantly, expecting Bork to laugh in return, but the second these words leave my mouth we fall into abrupt silence. I’d been so busy being annoyed with this living concept that I hadn’t quite noticed the erotic tension hanging over us, but now that I’m aware it hits me fast and hard.

Bork is incredibly handsome in a dark, brooding way, and the look on his face tells me everything I need to know about his thoughts on my suggestion.

As if psychically connected, the two of us rise from our seats in unison. We stride towards one another and meet in the middle of my living room, kissing passionately.

Soon enough, our hands are roaming confidently across one another’s bodies, exploring the glorious topography of these heavying forms. Bork strips away my clothing, exposing my skin to the cool apartment air and sending a surge of trembling arousal down my spine. It’s not long before I’m completely naked, fully exposed and aching for more of his touch.

Bork rubs my chest, then works his way down to my abs as he gently traces his fingers along the intricacies of my form. It’s here that he finally hesitates, pausing for a moment and allowing the tension to bloom even more.

My cock is swollen, jutting out towards the living concept and throbbing with a carnal ache. I push my hips against him, the yearning of my body manifesting itself in this subtle movement.

Finally, physical manifestation of that weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around has mercy, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around my cock. A satisfied groan escapes my lips as he does this, unable to express my simmering pleasure in any other way.

This pleasure only grows as the living concept strokes my rod, pumping his tight fist across my length in long, slow movements. I rock against him in turn, the two of us falling into a rhythm together, and soon enough I’m reaching down to offer him a sensual touch of my own.

I take the physical manifestation’s cock and service him at a relative pace, the two of us grinding against one another as our sighs and moans fill the air. It’s an incredible feeling, but even now I crave more.

A fire in my eyes, I suddenly drop to my knees before Bork. I’m gazing up at him in a state of potent lust, the head of his massive dick bobbing just inches from my hungry lips. I playfully kiss the tip, then own wide and swallow Bork’s fat cock.

“Fuck yes,” the physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around murmurs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as these words spill forth.

I pump my face across Bork’s cock at the same pace as the hands that came before, servicing him diligently. Eventually, my movements quicken, bobbing faster and faster across his length until there’s nothing left to elevate.

More speed is no longer an option, but I’ve got something else in mind.

I pull back, taking a brief moment to center myself then diving in once again. This time I allow his dick to slide all the way down, somehow relaxing my gag reflex as Bork plunges into my absolute depths. The next thing I know my face is pressed up against the hazy manifestation, his rod fully consumed in a stunning deep throat maneuver. I hold like this for as long as I can manage, allowing my living concept lover to savor his position on the receiving end of these oral acrobatics.

Eventually, however, I’m forced to pull away in a sputtering mess.

“Fuck me,” I demand.

I stand up and kiss Bork once again, only this time I push him back until he collapses onto the couch behind. I climb down into position on top of this gorgeous living concept, reaching back and grabbing his waiting cock in my hand.

I align physical manifestation’s rod with the tightness of my puckered asshole, pushing against him and then sitting back up just before he can pop inside. I repeat this process a few times, teasing Bork playfully until I finally give in and drop onto his rod with a confident swoop.

The physical manifestation’s cock expands me brutally, stretching my ass to its absolute limits as I realize I’ve bit off my than I can chew.

“Oh fuck,” I groan, falling against Bork as I reel from this incredible penetration.

Fortunately, this physical manifestation recognizes what’s going on, taking his time with me. At first he stays completely still, allowing me to pick the pace.

We hold each other like this for a long while, letting my body come to terms with this mighty penetration. Gradually, my ass begins to relax as the throbbing ache becomes a dull fullness and then, eventually, a glorious warmth that starts at the pit of my stomach and spills out across my arms and legs.

I begin to rock my body across him, riding the physical manifestation’s cock at an ever quickening pace. Waves of pleasure pulse across my form, growing larger and larger with every consecutive swell.

Meanwhile, Bork reaches down and grabs ahold of my cock. He starts to beat me off in time with the movements of my body, stroking faster and faster as our carnal expressions become uncontrollable.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum,” I stammer, repeating some variation of this phrase at an escalating volume until I’m screaming out at the top of my lungs. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

Soon enough, a powerful orgasm is ripping through my frame, sweeping me away in its wonderful embrace. Every nerve in my body is fully pinned with sensation, overwhelming me in the best of ways.

Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my cock, splattering across Bork and painting his hazy body with beautiful, pearly ropes.

All the while I don’t stop riding him, slamming my ass down onto Bork’s massive rod. The physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around is working on a similar timeline, and the second I finish with my orgasm he starts in with a climax of his own. I can feel his body clenching tight below me, the pressure building until suddenly a wave of release erupts across his frame.

Bork lets out a long, blissful hiss, his hands gripping firm against my ass as he unloads payload after payload of spunk. The physical manifestation fills me up until there’s no room left, his milky seed spilling from the packed rim of my asshole.

When the two of us finish we collapse against one another, fucked silly and exhausted.

We lay here for a moment, basking in the afterglow of our raucous sexual adventure. Slowly, it occurs to me that I’m actually feeling pretty good, the seasonal, post-holiday haze finally drifting away.

I let out a loud sigh, somehow pulling even closer to the physical manifestation below me. It feels so cozy and safe, but when my hands come to rest on the couch itself my eyes fly open in alarm.

I’ve somehow sunk all the way through Bork.

I turn over to find the physical manifestation hovering before me, only his form is much less dense than before. He’s fading away, gradually dissipating before my very eyes.

“Oh no!” I blurt. “Are you okay?”

Bork smiles and nods. “I’m the physical manifestation of the weird dull sadness that happens after the holidays end and January rolls around,” he explains. “Now that you’re feeling better, it’s time to move on.”
 A surge of dread pulses through my veins. “No!” I blurt. “You can’t.”
 “I have to,” the living concept explains. “Now that you’ve addressed me, my job here is done. That’s okay, though, you don’t want to just bask in this feeling forever, because that’s when it becomes a problem. Being a little down after something as exciting as the holidays is totally normal, though. It’s part of the way human bodies function.”

He’s right, and I know it.

“Thank you,” is all I can think to say.

“Hey, it was my pleasure,” Bork replies, then offers me a wink. “That was some good dick.”

With that, the physical manifestation disappears completely.

I take a deep breath, bracing for the emotional implications of this moment to cut me deep and manifest Bork right back, but that never happens.

I stand up and pull open my blinds, letting in some of the shimmering golden sun of this late winter afternoon.

Who knows, this physical manifestation could easily show up again next year, or the year after all. It’s only natural.

Until then, I’m happy to follow one of Bort’s parting suggestions: It’s time to move on.