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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Alex & Joshua - 4. Chapter 4

Our bedroom is pitch black, a total absence of light. It is a cloudy night to begin with, and Alex pulled the blackout shade when we came into the room. I turn on the bedside light and look at him questioningly.

“I want it dark,” he says, one corner of his mouth curving provocatively. I glance around the room, and realize that he has unplugged the clock, the TV, the DVD player – even the tiniest sources of light have been obliterated. I turn back to him and smile, letting him know that I’m ready to play this new game.

He comes to me, catching my face in his hands, fingers splayed across my jaw, thumbs rubbing gently near the corners of my mouth. He looks at me, wandering his eyes over my face, a face he must have memorized after all these years, but he does this occasionally, as though checking for any tiny change he may have missed since the last time. I gaze back at him, warming under his intense look. It’s difficult to hold still when he studies me like this. I want to lean into him, run my tongue along his bottom lip until he can’t stand it and grabs me to him.

He reaches behind me to turn off the light and begins to undress me, one button at a time, licking a path down my smooth chest as my shirt falls open, ending with his tongue in my belly button. He probes it gently, then moves lower, tugging at the ribbon of soft dark hair that disappears into my jeans. I can’t see him at all - closing my eyes wouldn’t make it any darker - I can only feel his hands and his mouth, and hear him breathing.

He stands, running his hands down my arm, freeing my wrist from the cuff, pressing a kiss into my palm, before taking my middle finger into his mouth. His lips slide completely down my finger, catching my breath and sending chills up my back. His mouth is hot and wet, and his tongue presses my finger up to his palate as he sucks it. I can feel the pull deep inside me, in my balls, and they lift a little closer to my body in anticipation. My penis goes from firm to hard in seconds, desperate to join my finger in the dark, wet heat of his mouth.

While he sucks, his fingers run up my arm, stroking the soft skin on the inside of my elbow, flexing into the firm muscles of my bicep in silent appreciation, raking through the silky hair of my armpit just firmly enough. My knees are trembling by the time he slides his mouth slowly off my finger and brings it to mine. His tongue follows the rough edge of my top teeth until it is inside my mouth, circling slowly through our joined saliva, tasting me.

I sway a little, dizzy with arousal and unable to keep my balance in the black void of the room. He removes my shirt and turns his attention to my jeans, skimming his fingers down the buttons, thumbing them down my hips into a puddle at my ankles. When he turns me, I gasp, falling, then sink onto the bed on my back. He chuckles softly, tugging my jeans off my feet. He quickly removes his own clothing and kneels on the floor between my legs. I know that’s where he is only because he's shoving my knees apart, licking high on the inside of my thigh, his breath warm on my testicles.

With no other sensory input available, I relax and surrender to his mouth and hands, to the darkness that surrounds us so completely that I can almost feel its velvety weight against my skin. His tongue drops into the smooth heat of my groin, freshly shaven earlier this evening, by him. My scrotum draws tighter as he traces the dark seam from back to front with the tip of his tongue, then back down again. As he does this, my cock throbs up from my belly, aching for contact, and my hips roll with the travel of his tongue.

He sucks both balls into his mouth in one slow inhalation and stills for a moment. There is a total lack of sensation – no sight, no sound, no motion – and I hold my breath, suspended, until his mouth begins to knead my testicles in a slow undulating motion. His tongue separates them gently, rolls them from one side of his mouth to the other; he sucks them deeper, then lets them slide free, and the air feels cool after the heat of his mouth.

I feel him rise slightly on his knees, his head sideways, mouthing his way up my penis, pressing it to my stomach with just a hint of teeth cushioned by soft lips. A single finger hooks around my erection, pulling it upright, and I feel his tongue touch just the drop of precum welling out of me. How can he possibly have such precision of movement in this absolute darkness? Does he know every centimeter of my body so well?

Perhaps. I know that this is the most unusual thing he has ever done to me.

I rise up from the bed with a gasp as he takes me deeply into his throat on one long slide. The physical sensations are wonderful, but the real thrill comes from my mind, from knowing that he has completely engulfed this most sensitive part of me. I sink back down as he begins to slide his firm lips up and down me, pausing at the top of each stroke to swirl his tongue around the head of my cock. That's a wonderful sensation, one that always draws an involuntary 'ahhhh' from me. He wraps his hand around me and follows his mouth as he sucks me. The small rotations of his fist pull me up from the mattress in an attempt to prolong the motion.

By the time he leaves my erection for the darker pleasures of my ass, I am lost in the feel of him, eyes wide open to the night sky that is our bedroom ceiling. After propping me on a pillow, Alex pushes my knees back to the sides of my chest and I almost feel as though I’m going to roll completely over, but his firm grip on my hips keeps me steady.

When the tip of his tongue first touches my hole, I shudder and moan, and I think I can feel his mouth widen in a smile. That would be just like him – he enjoys knowing he’s making me lose my mind, one lick at a time. The sounds his mouth makes on me seem louder in the dark, more distinct, and I listen to them with growing arousal. It sounds wet and delicious, and I wish for a moment that our positions were reversed, that I was tasting him, instead of the other way around.

But then he nips my ass cheek firmly enough to make me jump, and I realize there’s no where else on earth I’d rather be.

When he feels I’m sufficiently primed, he nibbles his way completely up my body, stopping at my nipples for a few moments, just long enough to harden them with little flicks of his tongue. As he kisses me, he presses the head of his cock to me, rocking a half inch in either direction, just enough to tease me unbearably – is this the time he’s going to complete the stroke?

Finally, he does, sliding into me with a smooth motion, my moan rising in pitch as his depth increases. He stops then, both of us needing a minute to regroup. I can tell by his breathing that he’s very excited, that if I were to move now, I could push him over quickly; but I don’t want it to end any sooner than he does, so I hold still, waiting for him.

When he does begin to move, it is with a broken rhythm – several long strokes followed by two or three short quick ones. He varies the spacing, and the short ones always catch me off guard, making me start in surprised pleasure as the head of his cock glides across my prostate.

When he slows to kiss me, I pull him down onto me, needing his weight to hold me to the bed, to make me feel real. The utter darkness has dissolved my sense of reality, of what it was like to watch him as he made love to me; and if I can’t see him, I need to feel him. He seems to understand and slides his arms under my back, holding me tightly, kissing my face and neck.

When I loosen my hold on him a little, he pushes back up to his knees, and I know it’s time. As he runs his hand down my arm, I reach for my erection, so that by the time his fingers wrap around my fist, I’m already there, stroking myself slowly. He begins to thrust with purpose now, grunting softly as he hits bottom each time, and I synchronize my strokes to his.

Usually we watch each other to see how things are progressing, but I can’t see him, can’t watch his face tighten along with his testicles. I tune into the sounds he’s making and the movements of his body, and I find that it’s enough. I can tell exactly where he’s at, when he’s going to reach that point of no return, when ‘soon’ becomes ‘now.' And when it does, I’m there, too, matching him thrust for thrust, groan for groan.

The sensations of orgasm are different in the dark, also; more intense, more internal, as if knowing he can't see me keeps it all inside somehow, and I feel like my heart is going to burst by the time the last of my ejaculation oozes slowly over our fingers.

As we come down from one of the most interesting sexual encounters we’ve ever had, he reaches over and pulls up the shade, letting in only the faintest moon glow. It had cleared a bit since he lowered it, although how long ago that was, I have no idea. The silvery light is enough for me to see his face, his contented expression, the look in his eyes as he smiles at me.

“That was amazing,” I say quietly.

“I thought you might like the dark.”

He rolls onto his back and slides his hand down to hold mine, squeezing softly as we both drift off to sleep in the pale light of a new moon.

Copyright © 2011 Gabriel Morgan; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Years have passed, The romantic in me wants to relax and accept the happy ending. The synic, I am, is waiting for the other shoe to drop (the conflict). Either way, it is excellent work. Thanks for sharing.

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