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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.
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.
First Time - 1. Chapter 1
I leaned against the wall. I leaned because if I had not I would have fallen. My head was spinning a bit and I felt for all the world like I was going to just go to sleep right where I stood. Needless to say, I had been drinking. I had been drinking a lot. I had no idea how much I had drank, or what I had been drinking. People just kept handing me glasses and I kept drinking what was in them. I looked down the hall toward my bedroom door. It was just there, no more than 10 feet away. But it might as well have been 10 miles. No way I was going to make it to that door. So I just stood there and closed my eyes.
It had been quite a party. Mark had wanted to have a party to celebrate the new apartment. I had been living with Mark for about 6 months. I had moved in with him right after he had tried to kill himself. He had scared the hell out of me and the thought of losing him had sent me into a panic state. So I had parked myself on his doorstep once he had gotten out of the hospital and declared I was moving in and there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Mark and I had been through hell together more than once. He had been there for me when I thought my world had ended and when I had nearly ended it myself. And I was going to be there for him—to make sure his did not.
We had only just moved from his old apartment, which was small even for one person, into this apartment. And what do you do when you move into a new apartment? You have a party. Mark was really a social animal. He loved to party. He’d always been invited to every party anyone had during high school. He had more friends than he had family—and that was saying a lot. And this apartment was big enough to actually have more than one or two friends over at a time. So he made a big event out of it. Invited all of our closest friends (they were really his friends) and made sure to invite some girls he knew liked me. He hadn’t given up on getting me back into “the world” as he called it. I hadn’t really dated or anything for a long time. And I usually avoided people in general—and especially girls. Hadn’t really gotten over the thing with Linda, which made me tend to avoid girls if possible. And then the thing toward the end of the last school year still messed with my head and made be tend to avoid everyone as much as possible. But that was getting a little better. Mark’s suicide attempt had changed my focus a bit. I made a point of trying to do things with him, of trying to do things that would make him happy. And I know that it made him unhappy when I was hiding in a corner somewhere. So, despite my fairly shitty mood, really tried to make the best of Mark’s party.
There were a lot of people there. Mark had a couple of his “friends” there. By “friends” I mean gay friends. He really didn’t know many guys like that. I mean, rural New York is not exactly a hotbed of homosexuality. It had really shocked me when Mark had told me he was gay. Shocked me not because it was such a horrible thing—but because I had not known. I had known him since I was 13, but I had not known. And when he just stood up and announced it to everyone last year, after the incident, I had been more shocked than anyone. And when he had finally regained consciousness in the hospital, after wrapping his car around a tree going about 90 mph, and had told me that he had tried to kill himself because he couldn’t stand being such a disappointment to his family and to his friends, and that he loved me—in that way… It had been a lot to deal with. I had just walked away from him after he told me that last part. I had really needed to think. But Mark was my best friend. And I loved him like a brother. No way I was running out on him. So we had talked about it and agreed that we would just stay best friends forever and not mess that up with anything else. And I just got used to him having “boyfriends” instead of girlfriends. No big deal. As long as they didn’t hurt him, I didn’t give a shit.
So I just watched across the room as one guy he invited, David, hit on Mark all night. Mark was enjoying it, too. No doubt they would end up in bed together before the night was over.
Actually, I ended up spending a great deal of time talking with one of Mark’s other “friends,” Paul. He was quite a bit older than Mark and I knew they had been together more than once. He was really nice, though, easy to talk to, even for me. And that was saying something, because I really didn’t know him and I always had a hard time talking to people I didn’t know. But he was cool. We talked about a lot of things, writing mostly. It turned out he actually had some things published. Short stories in magazines, but to me that made him very cool. He handed me a few drinks throughout the night. I noticed that he kept brushing my hand as he handed them to me, but I really didn’t make anything out of it. I’ll admit I was getting very relaxed by all the drinking and was not really noticing much—and what I did notice, I really didn’t interpret. We talked a while, then I somehow ended up on the couch with one of the girls there.
She was a very pretty girl, and I had actually spoken to her a few times without feeling like I was going to have to run to the bathroom and puke. That was a good sign. Most likely, it was a sign of how very drunk I was. I ended up kissing her and making out a bit on the couch. I caught Mark’s eye over her shoulder and noticed him smile. He smiled as if he were relieved that I was having a good time—and very glad that I was finally making out with a girl. I don’t know, maybe it was that look in his eyes, but suddenly I really felt like I needed to get out of there, to lie down. I didn’t feel sick or anything, I just knew I needed to lie down. I told her that and she offered to lie down with me. She said this while trying to stick her tongue down my throat, which was a pretty impressive thing to do. I don’t remember what I said to her. But a few moments later, I was leaning against the wall in the hallway just down from my bedroom door, alone.
“Are you ok?” The voice was close, very close. I started and nearly fell. He chuckled softly as he grabbed my arm to steady me. “I saw you holding up that wall and it looked like you might be going to sleep right there.”
I opened my eyes. It was Paul, but I already knew that from his voice. “No, I just stopped to rest my head for a minute.” My words sounded a little drunk, even to me.
“I think you better rest your head on your bed.” He laughed outright as he put his arm around my shoulder and began leading me down the hall to my room. My feet were unsteady, and I was glad of his support.
He shut the door behind us, which I noticed at the time, but didn’t make anything of. He helped me to my bed and I just fell back on it. My head was spinning a bit now. I wasn’t precisely dizzy, but things were shifting around a bit. He sat down on the bed beside me. He was sitting close, so close that I could feel the heat from his leg where it brushed against mine. I tried to sit up. “No, don’t” he said softly, placing one hand on my chest. I couldn’t sit up. It wasn’t like he pushed on me and held me down. He just placed his hand lightly on my chest. But the sheer surprise of the action caught me off guard and held me firmly in place. He started rubbing my chest. I could feel the heat from his hands right through my shirt.
“Do you always wear silk shirts?” The words were very close to my ear. But I didn’t open my eyes. The feeling of his hand caressing my chest felt so relaxing…
“No.” I heard myself answer. I was wearing my black silk “dress up” shirt. I had actually spent a bit of time picking something to wear. I wanted to at least look like I wanted to be at the party. Mark’s party. “But it’s Mark’s party.” I said that simply, as though anyone hearing it would completely understand.
He chuckled softly. “I see.” And I had the distinct impression that he did see.
My eyes flew open, startled by the feeling of his warm hand on my bare skin. When had he unbuttoned my shirt? I tried to sit up again, but he smiled at me, a slightly tipped smile. I was transfixed by that smile and sighed as he continued to rub my chest.
I was startled once again by the feeling of my legs being lifted onto my bed. I tried to sit up again, but his arm across my chest stopped me. Again, it wasn’t like he was pressing down on me, holding me down. But his arm was warm against my skin and I really didn’t want to move it. “Just lie still and relax.” The words were whispered against my ear, and were accompanied by the feeling his body pressing warmly against mine. I opened my eyes and realized that somehow he had removed my clothes—and his as well.
His face was inches from mine. He was smiling at me, a gentle smile. His eyes were brown. Very brown. The dark brown of a chestnut. They were looking into mine very intently. I noticed he had fine lines around his eyes, like he had been caught smiling too long while in the sun. And the rest of his skin was very tanned, which supported that thought.
“You really do have beautiful eyes, Lucas,” he said softly, tracing around my eyes with one finger. His touch was very light, yet it felt like electricity was passing through his finger into my skin. He brushed his finger over my eye lashes. “And such long eye lashes…”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. It was a long, slow kiss. It felt tentative, his lips barely touching mine, brushing softly over my lips like the gentle caress of a butterfly’s wings. I felt his one hand caressing my chest still, while the fingers of his other hand played gently with my hair. I felt my body’s unexpected response to him—a ripple of heat that passed right through my entire body.
My lips parted slightly. He slipped his tongue in between my lips and into my mouth, sliding his tongue sensually along mine. I returned his kiss now, my lips brushing his, my tongue rubbing against his. I pulled him closer to me, my fingers tangling in his hair. I heard a soft moan of pleasure and I realized with surprise that it had come from my lips. As he felt my response to him, his kiss changed. His lips pressed harder against mine, tenderness turning to passion as he thrust his tongue hard against my tongue. It was as if he had been moving tentatively, testing to see what my response would be. Now that he had my response, he was sending a message. And that message was perfectly clear, even to me at that time. He would be gentle, tender, considerate—but he would be the one in control. I yielded to this demand instinctively. I felt my body press deeper into the comforter on the bed, felt myself drop my shoulder slightly, slipping my body slightly beneath his. Both my hands were in his hair now, my fingers getting slightly tangled in his dark brown curls. My breath was hot against his and I could feel his breathing quicken.
Then he pulled back. His lips were parted, his breath shortened. He stared down into my eyes. His eyes appeared slightly cloudy. His features appeared softer somehow, a little blurred. But that may have been my perception. My own vision felt blurry, though not from the drinking. No, it was passion that blurred my vision. And it surprised the hell out of me. I hadn’t had sex in a long time—hadn’t wanted to have sex in a long time, not with anyone. And I had never wanted to have sex with a man. But I wanted it with him. No question in my mind. I wanted this man completely. My body ached with desire for him. I felt hot—and not from the warmth of the room or from the heat from his body as it pressed against mine. I felt hot from the inside out. Desire, hot and insistent burned through my body, making me feel like I would spontaneously combust at any moment.
He tilted his head slightly to one side and smiled, a smile filled with wonder. “What girl taught you to kiss like that, boy?” He shook his head slightly, as if to emphasize the wonder in his eyes.
I felt myself smile in response, felt that smile turn into a grin. “What makes you think it isn’t just a natural instinct? And what makes you think it was a girl who taught me to kiss?” My words were slightly teasing, but mostly I just wanted to know the answer.
His smile deepened and I noticed his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was a very attractive look. “Because your kiss is very, very sensual. And your lips respond, respond very sweetly, but they don’t initiate; your tongue invites, submits, but doesn’t seek. Yet it draws from me every ounce of passion a kiss can generate. Your kiss is like that of a very experienced woman. That would not be your instinct. No, some girl had to have spent some time teaching you subtleties.”
I stared at him in astonishment. The man was truly amazing. And obviously very experienced himself.
I could see the satisfaction in his smile. It was not the satisfaction of “I told you so!” but rather the satisfaction of “Ah, so I was right.” He ran a finger along my lips, just barely touching them. I was amazed anew at how very light and gentle his touch was. “So I am right, then?”
I nodded, thinking back to the time with Linda, when she had felt to me like an angel sent from heaven. After our first kiss, which she had responded to with humiliating laughter, she had literally spent hours teaching me the subtle art of kissing. That is the one thing I would always be truly grateful to her for. And she had been a very good teacher and I a very willing student.
I ran my finger over the fine lines and creases around his eyes. His eyes flickered for a moment, and I could almost read his thoughts. He was quite a bit older than I was. And infinitely more experienced. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that that his age and experience was what I wanted—and also precisely what I needed.
He stared at me a long moment. Then shook his head slightly, as if clearing cobwebs from his thoughts. Then he leaned down and kissed my lips once more. My response to him, again, was instinctive and immediate. I pulled him closer to me, feeling the heat from his body where it touched mine. I wanted to run my hands over his body, touch his skin, feel his softness, feel his hardness… but I was too insecure, too uncertain. I had never been in this situation before. I wasn’t sure what he expected from me, what he would want from me… So I just responded to him, let my body react. “Respond but not initiate”—just like my kiss.
He kissed my lips gently, with a passion that was clearly being held back. Then he traced a line with his tongue from my lips down to my neck, just where it met my shoulder. He lingered there, sucking softly, his teeth brushing gently against my skin. He rubbed his body against mine, just slightly. It was more of a pressing against, than a rubbing against, really. But I could feel his arousal, hard and hot against my hip. I heard a groan of pleasure from his lips as he pressed against me and it held a note of urgency. But still, there was no hurry in his touch, no rush in his kiss.
As his lips moved down from my neck to my chest, his hand moved from my chest to my stomach and down to my cock. I jumped as his fingers touched me there. He raised up and smiled down at me, a very deep, genuinely amused smile. “Not expecting that, sweetheart?” I could feel my brows come together at his use of “sweetheart” as an affectionate term. He ran a finger over the crease between my brows, raising one eyebrow at me. He chuckled softly and bent to kiss that same spot between my brows. “You are so completely adorable.” He whispered the words against my skin.
I gasped as his hand stroked my cock lightly. I was already hard—had been from the moment his lips had touched mine—but I felt myself swell even more at his touch. “Mmmm” the sound was almost a sigh as it left his lips. The sound from my own was definitely a sigh as I lay back, my eyes closing. His touch was amazing. I could feel the strength in his fingers, but at the same time, they were so very gentle.
I felt his lips once more on my chest, felt his tongue running along my skin. I shivered from the sensation, yet I was anything but cold. “Oh, man… that feels so good…” I breathed the words as I arched my back s lightly, pushing into his hand. His response was to bite me lightly, nipping the skin right below my belly button. Not so that it hurt, but just hard enough to make me jump a little. He smiled against my skin. I swear I could feel his lips smile. I felt myself smile in response. I thought to myself that I was very sure I had never smiled this much during sex before.
That smile was completely wiped from my face in the next second as I gasped and exclaimed “God Almighty!” I felt as though my entire body had just been plunged into fire. His tongue licked around the base of my swollen cock, and continued licking upwards, in a spiral motion all around me. His tongue felt warm, electric. Everywhere he licked burned and throbbed. He stopped just short of the top, pausing to let his hot breath caress me. I could feel his lips almost touching me, teasing me with their closeness. I tried to push my hips upward, push my throbbing erection toward his mouth. I wanted what he was teasing me with—wanted it so bad my whole body pulsed, vibrated with the desire for it, the need for it.
“Know what you want, do you, boy?” His words were soft, whispered so close to my skin that every syllable made me twitch with desire. My response was little more than a groan as I reached for his head, my fingers tangling convulsively in the soft tendrils of his hair. His response was to run his tongue slowly over the tip of my cock, and I mean slowly. Then he slipped me into his mouth, his lips pressing firmly against my skin, so that I would feel every millimeter of their progress from the tip on down. And as he took me further into his mouth, his tongue licked around me, in that same spiral pattern that had driven me so crazy before—only this time it was reversed, spiraling downward as he drew me deeper and deeper into the liquid heat of his mouth.
He sucked rhythmically on my cock, his tongue pressing hard against my shaft. As he sucked, he took my balls in his hand and rubbed them gently then firmly, squeezing them just enough to make me gasp a little. I moaned with pleasure, I couldn’t keep the sounds inside any longer. His mouth on me was the most incredible feeling I had ever experienced. Every stroke was pure electricity. It set my senses on edge. I felt myself raising my hips, thrusting against his rhythm. He took me deeply into his mouth, permitting the tip of me to tickle the back of his throat. And as I touched the back of his throat, he would swallow and I would feel him contracting around me. And every once in a while, he would make a “mmmm” sound and the vibrations from his throat would ripple through me.
My breath was short and hot as I lost myself in the feeling. My head was swimming, though definitely not from the drinking. As I leaned my head back, I could hear the blood rushing through my head. It felt like fireworks were going off behind my eyes. His rhythm was steady and I felt my breathing matching his rhythm, as did the pulsing behind my eyes. It was like my entire body was just synchronizing itself to him.
Then he stopped. I all but whimpered as he raised his head from me. I raised myself up on my elbows, my eyes reluctantly opening. I looked down at him, my brows knit, my eyes narrowed—and my vision so blurred by this point I could barely see. He looked up at me, a soft, hazy smile on his lips. “Do you want to come, babe?” As he spoke the words, he ran one finger lightly over the tip of my cock.
“Please!” I pleaded through my gasps. Every muscle in my body was contracting with tension and anticipation. I thought I saw a little flicker of triumph in his eyes, as though he had accomplished a goal. I noticed that, even through my blurred vision. But I didn’t care. If he wanted me to beg him, if that gave him pleasure, then I would beg. I wanted it so badly. “Please, Paul… Please!”
He looked at me for a moment, that soft, hazy smile still on his lips. He ran his tongue all over my cock, his saliva glistening on my skin. Then he took me in his mouth again. Just the head this time, sucking hard on me. He wrapped one of his hands around the shaft of my cock and began stroking hard, the rhythm of his stroking matching the rhythm of his sucking. His other hand rubbed my balls, that hand moving in an opposite rhythm. “Oh God!” I exclaimed as I felt the contrast of rhythms. It was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t imagine how he could do that. But then, I couldn’t imagine anything at that moment. I watched him for a moment but that was way too much for me. I couldn’t take any visual stimulation…I could barely stand it as it was. My fingers clutched convulsively at the comforter, trying to grip it, to hold on to something. The light show behind my eyes was like the Fourth of July.
Then, just as I was certain I would just die before I came, I felt that sweet tightening of my muscles, felt that fleeting moment of pure tension—and then the incredible sensation of release. I came hard, harder than I had ever come in my life. I could feel the hot semen pumping from my burning cock. I collapsed back onto the bed, my breathing hard and fast. I just lay there, panting.
I felt him get up briefly, but I couldn’t possibly open my eyes to see where he went or what he was doing. I have no idea how much time passed before I felt him get back onto the bed and lie beside me. He took me in his arms. I could feel the sweat on his body—or was it from my body? I couldn’t tell; it didn’t matter. He brushed the hair from my eyes and kissed my forehead and then my cheek and then just under my ear, making that last kiss last a while, his lips brushing so softly over my skin, his breath hot against my neck. His hands caressed me, but with a hunger that had not been there before. As he pressed his body hard against mine, I could feel his cock against my hip. It was hard and hot.
He ran his tongue over my earlobe and his hot breath sent a chill through my body. He moved his body slightly and some how managed to turn me so that I was on my side and my back was against him. I felt him rub his cock against my ass. I could hear his breathing quicken. I could feel the heat from his body. I knew what he wanted.
He ran his hand down my side, his fingers massaging my skin as they moved slowly down to my hip. He pushed against my hip, turning me further over until I was lying on my stomach. His lips were on the back of my neck now, kissing me, sucking on my skin. One hand was on my shoulder, running down my arm, flexing his fingers in the muscles there. His other hand was now rubbing my ass, gently, really, considering I could tell he was absolutely on fire with desire at this point. He slipped his hand down between my legs, stroking the area from the base of my cock to the entrance of my ass. I gasped as his finger played at the opening. I tried to pull away from him, my breath quickening sharply as a wave of fear swept through me. He stopped instantly. He brought his hand up to my other shoulder and massaged it gently.
“I won’t hurt you, Lucas.” He whispered the words against my ear. He turned me over a little, to look in my eyes. He caressed my cheek and ran his fingers softly along my eyebrows. He tilted his head slightly and that look of wonder that had been in his eyes after our first kiss reappeared. “You are so very beautiful, you know. “ And he frowned, his brows knitting. “How anyone could ever want to hurt you is beyond imagining. But I know they did.” His words were barely more than a whisper.
He must have seen my reaction, the surprise and horror I felt at his words must have shown in my eyes. He ran a finger over my lips, then touched his lips to mine briefly, softly. “I know what happened, Lucas.” He put his finger over my lips as I started to ask him how, how he knew. My thoughts were racing. Did everyone in the world know? He seemed to read my mind and smiled very gently. “Mark told me, babe. He loves you, you know. Probably more than you realize. He told me a long time ago. Cried it all over me. But no one will hear it from me, Lucas.
“But you need to know it doesn’t have to be like that.” His expression grew very serious as he stared into my eyes. “I would never hurt you, babe.” He caressed my cheek as he shook his head slightly. “I won’t rush; I’ll take it very slowly. I want you so badly my entire body is on fire, but I promise you, I won’t do anything that won’t feel good. And if you truly don’t like what I do, I’ll stop. I won’t force anything on you. I only want to give you what you want.”
I stared up at him for a long moment. Even through the haze that clouded my senses—for they were still very cloudy, both because of the alcohol I drank and from the aftereffects of the most intense sex I had ever had—I could see that he meant what he said. His eyes stared into mine. And they drew me into his. I felt myself relaxing, noticed my breathing had almost returned to normal. I know he felt my reaction, because he smiled, and that look of wonder came into his eyes again. “So beautiful… “ I smiled back at him and sighed, a deep sigh that seemed to take the tension from my body. I turned myself back over on my stomach, resting my head on my arms. I felt suddenly very sleepy and very relaxed. I heard him catch his breath slightly before kissing the back of my neck once again.
He rubbed his hand over my back, slowly, his fingers kneading slightly. And wherever his hands touched his lips followed, light, soft kisses, warm, soft lips on my skin. I sighed as I felt myself drifting into a very hazy world. I could feel his hands on my skin, feel the warmth from his body. His touch was so light, almost not there. I started a bit as I felt him move, felt him kneel over me, straddle me. My tensing was instinctive and I felt almost embarrassed by it. I didn’t want to tense. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid. I wanted him to know that I wanted him, wanted whatever he wanted to do.
He felt my reaction and put both his hands on my shoulders, massaging them slowly, deeply. He bent down and kissed the back of my neck again, lightly, this time rubbing his cheek softly against my skin. As he bent down I could feel his hardness pressing against me, rubbing between the cheeks of my ass. I gasped a little, but did not shrink away as I had before. He kept rubbing my shoulders, his hands working a steady rhythm, massaging my muscles deeply. I felt the tension leaving my body, even as I felt him rubbing his cock against me. He moaned softly as he moved over me.
He moved his hands slowly down my back, keeping the pressure firm but gentle, working the tension from every muscle he touched. He paused his progress for a moment at my lower back, at the base of my spine. He placed the palms of both of his hands on that spot and rubbed outward, his fingers kneading into my sides. I soft groan of pleasure slipped through my lips. I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being. The heat from his hands, the rhythm of his hands—and the alcohol, no doubt—put me even deeper into that hazy world. I knew it would be very easy for me to just go to sleep—except for the fact that I did not want to go to sleep. I did not want to stop feeling his touch.
As he rubbed back and forth, he would let his hands occasionally slip down, brushing over my ass, lightly at first, then with more pressure, more contact, until he was just rubbing my ass, nothing else. He stopped for a moment, his hands going to my thighs, pushing them apart slightly as he moved himself to kneel between my legs. I felt myself tense involuntarily. His hands instantly moved back to the base of my spine, repeating that gentle back and forth motion that had lulled me into such a calm, quiet place. Patiently—incredibly patiently—he repeated his previous motions, until his hands were once again just rubbing my ass. While one hand continued to massage me gently, his other hand teased at the entrance to my body. His fingers just brushed the edges, not even trying to penetrate, as if he just wanted me to get use to the feeling of being touched there. He paused a moment and I felt a little sound leave my lips, a little murmur that clearly told him I did not want him to stop. I thought I heard him laugh a little at that sound.
I jumped a little when he touched me again. But it wasn’t from tension, just a reaction to the feeling of “cold” that was suddenly on his fingertips. He knew that, and I definitely heard him laugh a little that time. He rubbed the cold gel around my entrance, the slow, gentleness of his fingers warming the gel, forcing heat into my skin. I could feel my muscles relax even further at the warmth. And when he paused another moment and resumed touching me, even the coldness of the gel did not make me tense. Nor, surprisingly, did the feeling of his finger as it penetrated me.
I took a short breath as he moved his finger inside me, and I could feel my body squirm a little, but I wasn’t tensing, wasn’t pulling away from his touch. He continued to move his finger inside me, very gently probing just a little deeper… He would pause briefly from time to time and would resume, more of that cold gel—which had actually begun to feel good, soothing—on his finger—or by this time fingers, for he had two of them inside me from what I could tell. And I couldn’t tell much, because the feelings he was giving me were starting to take my thoughts away. He was moving his fingers deeper within me, thrusting slightly, not hard, but firmly. I moaned with pleasure at each of his thrusts, my body feeling incredibly tingly where he touched. I groaned in displeasure as he removed his fingers from me. I felt myself raising myself up a little, as if reaching for him, wanting his fingers back where they had been. I could feel him moving around, heard the sounds of a condom wrapper. I tensed a little, involuntarily. My breath quickened, but it wasn’t with fear, but with anticipation. The moment was here… and I wanted it, I knew that without any hesitation. My own cock had already grown hard, had responded to the stimulation from behind. And I knew his had been hard for a long time… I shivered a little at that thought, at the thought of all the restrained passion that had been building in him. He noticed, I knew he did—he paid very close attention to my reactions, didn’t miss a twitch. He placed one warm hand on me, caressing me slightly, acknowledging that shiver.
I could feel the shift in his body as he leaned a little forward, allowing just the tip of his cock to touch my ass, allowing it to rest lightly against my opening. My breath quickened even more. And perhaps there was just a little fear mixing with the anticipation. And he knew this also, for his hands rubbed me gently, massaging my ass, working loose any tension. As soon as my breathing began to slow a little, telling him I was relaxing again, he pushed the tip of his cock inside me—just a little, couldn’t have been more than just the very end, not even the whole head. I gasped a bit, but I didn’t pull away. But I did tense, that I knew. And if I hadn’t known, I would have been able to tell from his sudden gasp as my muscles closed around him. His own breathing quickened, and I could hear him struggling to get his own body to relax. I could feel that he wanted to be inside me, to thrust himself all the way in, to the hilt… But I could also feel that he was not going to do that, not yet. He would keep his promise to me; he would not rush.
He held there for a few moments, his hands gently massaging my ass, rubbing in a rhythmic up and down motion, kneading into my muscles. I could hear him calming, hear his own breathing slowing again, as I felt mine do the same. As soon as he felt that change in me, he pushed himself a little further inside me. He moaned as he did so, it was a sound that was almost anguish. I moaned with him, both from the pain and the pleasure that accompanied his push. Once again, my breath quickened and my muscles tensed and closed tightly around him. “Oh God!” the words seemed ripped from him, breathless. I had no idea how far inside me he was. I couldn’t tell, I couldn’t feel that—all I could feel was that burning, tingling mixture of pain and pleasure as he filled me with his cock.
This time he pulled back slightly, just a very slight bit, then pushed himself back in—not penetrating any deeper, just going to that spot he had already reached. He repeated these small, gentle thrusts and I could hear his breathing, short and hot, could feel the tension in his body as he fought to restrain himself. I was nearly beside my self at this point. My breathing was in time with his movements. I could feel my body warring with itself as I both wanted to pull away from the pain of his penetration while at the same time I wanted to push back against him, to take him deeper within me.
Either he sensed my reaction, or he could restrain himself no more. With a groan that seemed to come from the very depth of him, he pushed himself all the way inside me. I cried out in pain and I felt him stop, felt him about to pull back, to ease the pain he knew I felt. He had said he would stop if I didn’t like what he was doing. I felt a swift wave of fear sweep over me. No! I didn’t want him to stop! “No, dont!” I cried as I reached around behind him, my hand clutching at his ass, keeping him from pulling back, ending up by pulling him closer, further into me.
“God, Luc!” he gasped as I grabbed at him. He repeated the words several times as he pulled back and pushed forward, thrusting as gently as he could—I could still feel him holding back, being as gentle as possible with me. I moaned with each thrust, still not sure whether I wanted to pull a way or push into him. I felt like every nerve ending in my ass were on fire—but it was a fire that burned good, so hot and so good. I felt myself moving against him, matching his rhythm, but in opposite time. As he thrust forward, I pushed back against him, begging his cock to touch just a little deeper inside me each time. My own cock was throbbing now, and the mixture of stimulation was overwhelming. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I was just a throbbing mass of arousal. I could feel sounds coming from my mouth, feeling the air, feeling the vibration in my throat—but my ears had stopped hearing, the blood rush in my head making me all but deaf.
His thrusts quickened, his hands gripped my hips now, holding me firmly against him, helping me keep my rhythm. I was vaguely aware that his fingers were digging into my skin, vaguely aware of that pain, of that slight distraction. But only vaguely. I could hear my voice now, even over the rushing in my ears, I was crying out to him, begging him for more, pleading with him to go deeper, harder, faster… I had completely abandoned myself to him. I wanted all of him, I wanted him to be in my body, to be part of my body. My own fingers were clutching the comforter so tightly I could feel my nails digging into the fabric, nearly ripping the threads from the force. My body was all but convulsing from the shock waves of heat that rippled through every nerve. And I could feel his body tensing, feel the pressure in him building. Then I felt his body release, the tension flowing from him as I felt him convulse within me, felt him shudder as he pumped his hot fluid into me.
He all but collapsed on top of me, still inside me. He lay there gasping, panting, yet all the while kissing the back of my neck, whispering my name hotly against my skin. He pulled himself from me and moved off of me and I felt cold, empty. An involuntary whimper passed my lips. I wanted him back, wanted the heat from his body against me. I felt him get off the bed. I lay there, my breath little more than sharp pants, the muscles in my body contracting convulsively. It seemed like he was gone forever, but I knew it had to be less than a minute, because my breath had still not calmed, was still coming from me in short pants, though my body had stopped convulsing. I rolled over onto my back as I felt him get on the bed beside me. My hand reached down and I realized with a bit of a shock that I had come as well. The entire feeling had been so intense, so overpowering that I had not even noticed that part of it. I felt like my entire body had come—not just that part. I looked up at him with wonder. How had that man done that to me?
He gently wiped the come from my stomach and from the bed a towel (apparently he had found the bathroom that connected Mark’s room to mine). He lay beside me, propped up on his elbow. He smiled into my eyes as he ran his fingers softly across my chest. He brushed the hair from my eyes tenderly. His fingers seemed to linger over my skin. He bent and kissed me, softly, tenderly, his lips brushing over mine with the lightness of a butterfly’s wings. I put my arms around him, wanting him close. His skin was moist with sweat, as was my own. I returned his kiss, my lips parting, inviting his tongue to dance with mine. The intimacy of this kiss was beyond words. His tongue tangled with mine tenderly, touching me, tasting me. He pulled back after a long, lingering while and smiled down at me. “Remind me, sweetheart, to buy that girl who taught you how to kiss something very nice, will you?”
I grinned at him and he grinned back, kissing the tip of my nose lightly. I laughed. “You know, I really have to pee!” He laughed outright as I tried to manage a “cool” walk to the bathroom—and ended up nearly tripping over my own shoes. Remember, I had been drinking earlier (though THAT was all but worn off by now) and truly I wasvery unsteady right now.
When I walked back into the room, Paul was lying on the bed, stretched out, looking so completely comfortable and at home on my bed that my insides just fluttered. I stood there for a moment looking at him. He was truly a fine looking man. I looked at him as I had not looked at him before. Before he had just been either Mark’s friend, or a nice guy to talk to. But now… he was someone that had just awakened something in me that I didn’t knew existed. With one kiss he had changed my life.
He raised one eyebrow and smiled, that slightly tipped smile that made my breath catch in my throat. He didn’t say anything, just patted the bed beside him. I got into bed beside him--actually, I nearly fell into bed beside him, the entire evening was catching up to me. The rush of adrenaline that had shot through my veins as we had made love had held the effects of the alcohol at bay. But that surge was slipping away now, being replaced by a slow spread of warmth through my body, warmth and heaviness. He pulled me close to him and pulled the comforter over both of us. I laid my head on his chest and rubbed my cheek against his skin. He felt so warm. He put his arms around me. He felt so safe. I felt his lips brush my hair, heard him whisper my name as I drifted away into a world of peace I had thought I would never find again.
Copyright © 2011 Luc; All Rights Reserved.
It had been quite a party. Mark had wanted to have a party to celebrate the new apartment. I had been living with Mark for about 6 months. I had moved in with him right after he had tried to kill himself. He had scared the hell out of me and the thought of losing him had sent me into a panic state. So I had parked myself on his doorstep once he had gotten out of the hospital and declared I was moving in and there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Mark and I had been through hell together more than once. He had been there for me when I thought my world had ended and when I had nearly ended it myself. And I was going to be there for him—to make sure his did not.
We had only just moved from his old apartment, which was small even for one person, into this apartment. And what do you do when you move into a new apartment? You have a party. Mark was really a social animal. He loved to party. He’d always been invited to every party anyone had during high school. He had more friends than he had family—and that was saying a lot. And this apartment was big enough to actually have more than one or two friends over at a time. So he made a big event out of it. Invited all of our closest friends (they were really his friends) and made sure to invite some girls he knew liked me. He hadn’t given up on getting me back into “the world” as he called it. I hadn’t really dated or anything for a long time. And I usually avoided people in general—and especially girls. Hadn’t really gotten over the thing with Linda, which made me tend to avoid girls if possible. And then the thing toward the end of the last school year still messed with my head and made be tend to avoid everyone as much as possible. But that was getting a little better. Mark’s suicide attempt had changed my focus a bit. I made a point of trying to do things with him, of trying to do things that would make him happy. And I know that it made him unhappy when I was hiding in a corner somewhere. So, despite my fairly shitty mood, really tried to make the best of Mark’s party.
There were a lot of people there. Mark had a couple of his “friends” there. By “friends” I mean gay friends. He really didn’t know many guys like that. I mean, rural New York is not exactly a hotbed of homosexuality. It had really shocked me when Mark had told me he was gay. Shocked me not because it was such a horrible thing—but because I had not known. I had known him since I was 13, but I had not known. And when he just stood up and announced it to everyone last year, after the incident, I had been more shocked than anyone. And when he had finally regained consciousness in the hospital, after wrapping his car around a tree going about 90 mph, and had told me that he had tried to kill himself because he couldn’t stand being such a disappointment to his family and to his friends, and that he loved me—in that way… It had been a lot to deal with. I had just walked away from him after he told me that last part. I had really needed to think. But Mark was my best friend. And I loved him like a brother. No way I was running out on him. So we had talked about it and agreed that we would just stay best friends forever and not mess that up with anything else. And I just got used to him having “boyfriends” instead of girlfriends. No big deal. As long as they didn’t hurt him, I didn’t give a shit.
So I just watched across the room as one guy he invited, David, hit on Mark all night. Mark was enjoying it, too. No doubt they would end up in bed together before the night was over.
Actually, I ended up spending a great deal of time talking with one of Mark’s other “friends,” Paul. He was quite a bit older than Mark and I knew they had been together more than once. He was really nice, though, easy to talk to, even for me. And that was saying something, because I really didn’t know him and I always had a hard time talking to people I didn’t know. But he was cool. We talked about a lot of things, writing mostly. It turned out he actually had some things published. Short stories in magazines, but to me that made him very cool. He handed me a few drinks throughout the night. I noticed that he kept brushing my hand as he handed them to me, but I really didn’t make anything out of it. I’ll admit I was getting very relaxed by all the drinking and was not really noticing much—and what I did notice, I really didn’t interpret. We talked a while, then I somehow ended up on the couch with one of the girls there.
She was a very pretty girl, and I had actually spoken to her a few times without feeling like I was going to have to run to the bathroom and puke. That was a good sign. Most likely, it was a sign of how very drunk I was. I ended up kissing her and making out a bit on the couch. I caught Mark’s eye over her shoulder and noticed him smile. He smiled as if he were relieved that I was having a good time—and very glad that I was finally making out with a girl. I don’t know, maybe it was that look in his eyes, but suddenly I really felt like I needed to get out of there, to lie down. I didn’t feel sick or anything, I just knew I needed to lie down. I told her that and she offered to lie down with me. She said this while trying to stick her tongue down my throat, which was a pretty impressive thing to do. I don’t remember what I said to her. But a few moments later, I was leaning against the wall in the hallway just down from my bedroom door, alone.
“Are you ok?” The voice was close, very close. I started and nearly fell. He chuckled softly as he grabbed my arm to steady me. “I saw you holding up that wall and it looked like you might be going to sleep right there.”
I opened my eyes. It was Paul, but I already knew that from his voice. “No, I just stopped to rest my head for a minute.” My words sounded a little drunk, even to me.
“I think you better rest your head on your bed.” He laughed outright as he put his arm around my shoulder and began leading me down the hall to my room. My feet were unsteady, and I was glad of his support.
He shut the door behind us, which I noticed at the time, but didn’t make anything of. He helped me to my bed and I just fell back on it. My head was spinning a bit now. I wasn’t precisely dizzy, but things were shifting around a bit. He sat down on the bed beside me. He was sitting close, so close that I could feel the heat from his leg where it brushed against mine. I tried to sit up. “No, don’t” he said softly, placing one hand on my chest. I couldn’t sit up. It wasn’t like he pushed on me and held me down. He just placed his hand lightly on my chest. But the sheer surprise of the action caught me off guard and held me firmly in place. He started rubbing my chest. I could feel the heat from his hands right through my shirt.
“Do you always wear silk shirts?” The words were very close to my ear. But I didn’t open my eyes. The feeling of his hand caressing my chest felt so relaxing…
“No.” I heard myself answer. I was wearing my black silk “dress up” shirt. I had actually spent a bit of time picking something to wear. I wanted to at least look like I wanted to be at the party. Mark’s party. “But it’s Mark’s party.” I said that simply, as though anyone hearing it would completely understand.
He chuckled softly. “I see.” And I had the distinct impression that he did see.
My eyes flew open, startled by the feeling of his warm hand on my bare skin. When had he unbuttoned my shirt? I tried to sit up again, but he smiled at me, a slightly tipped smile. I was transfixed by that smile and sighed as he continued to rub my chest.
I was startled once again by the feeling of my legs being lifted onto my bed. I tried to sit up again, but his arm across my chest stopped me. Again, it wasn’t like he was pressing down on me, holding me down. But his arm was warm against my skin and I really didn’t want to move it. “Just lie still and relax.” The words were whispered against my ear, and were accompanied by the feeling his body pressing warmly against mine. I opened my eyes and realized that somehow he had removed my clothes—and his as well.
His face was inches from mine. He was smiling at me, a gentle smile. His eyes were brown. Very brown. The dark brown of a chestnut. They were looking into mine very intently. I noticed he had fine lines around his eyes, like he had been caught smiling too long while in the sun. And the rest of his skin was very tanned, which supported that thought.
“You really do have beautiful eyes, Lucas,” he said softly, tracing around my eyes with one finger. His touch was very light, yet it felt like electricity was passing through his finger into my skin. He brushed his finger over my eye lashes. “And such long eye lashes…”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. It was a long, slow kiss. It felt tentative, his lips barely touching mine, brushing softly over my lips like the gentle caress of a butterfly’s wings. I felt his one hand caressing my chest still, while the fingers of his other hand played gently with my hair. I felt my body’s unexpected response to him—a ripple of heat that passed right through my entire body.
My lips parted slightly. He slipped his tongue in between my lips and into my mouth, sliding his tongue sensually along mine. I returned his kiss now, my lips brushing his, my tongue rubbing against his. I pulled him closer to me, my fingers tangling in his hair. I heard a soft moan of pleasure and I realized with surprise that it had come from my lips. As he felt my response to him, his kiss changed. His lips pressed harder against mine, tenderness turning to passion as he thrust his tongue hard against my tongue. It was as if he had been moving tentatively, testing to see what my response would be. Now that he had my response, he was sending a message. And that message was perfectly clear, even to me at that time. He would be gentle, tender, considerate—but he would be the one in control. I yielded to this demand instinctively. I felt my body press deeper into the comforter on the bed, felt myself drop my shoulder slightly, slipping my body slightly beneath his. Both my hands were in his hair now, my fingers getting slightly tangled in his dark brown curls. My breath was hot against his and I could feel his breathing quicken.
Then he pulled back. His lips were parted, his breath shortened. He stared down into my eyes. His eyes appeared slightly cloudy. His features appeared softer somehow, a little blurred. But that may have been my perception. My own vision felt blurry, though not from the drinking. No, it was passion that blurred my vision. And it surprised the hell out of me. I hadn’t had sex in a long time—hadn’t wanted to have sex in a long time, not with anyone. And I had never wanted to have sex with a man. But I wanted it with him. No question in my mind. I wanted this man completely. My body ached with desire for him. I felt hot—and not from the warmth of the room or from the heat from his body as it pressed against mine. I felt hot from the inside out. Desire, hot and insistent burned through my body, making me feel like I would spontaneously combust at any moment.
He tilted his head slightly to one side and smiled, a smile filled with wonder. “What girl taught you to kiss like that, boy?” He shook his head slightly, as if to emphasize the wonder in his eyes.
I felt myself smile in response, felt that smile turn into a grin. “What makes you think it isn’t just a natural instinct? And what makes you think it was a girl who taught me to kiss?” My words were slightly teasing, but mostly I just wanted to know the answer.
His smile deepened and I noticed his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was a very attractive look. “Because your kiss is very, very sensual. And your lips respond, respond very sweetly, but they don’t initiate; your tongue invites, submits, but doesn’t seek. Yet it draws from me every ounce of passion a kiss can generate. Your kiss is like that of a very experienced woman. That would not be your instinct. No, some girl had to have spent some time teaching you subtleties.”
I stared at him in astonishment. The man was truly amazing. And obviously very experienced himself.
I could see the satisfaction in his smile. It was not the satisfaction of “I told you so!” but rather the satisfaction of “Ah, so I was right.” He ran a finger along my lips, just barely touching them. I was amazed anew at how very light and gentle his touch was. “So I am right, then?”
I nodded, thinking back to the time with Linda, when she had felt to me like an angel sent from heaven. After our first kiss, which she had responded to with humiliating laughter, she had literally spent hours teaching me the subtle art of kissing. That is the one thing I would always be truly grateful to her for. And she had been a very good teacher and I a very willing student.
I ran my finger over the fine lines and creases around his eyes. His eyes flickered for a moment, and I could almost read his thoughts. He was quite a bit older than I was. And infinitely more experienced. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that that his age and experience was what I wanted—and also precisely what I needed.
He stared at me a long moment. Then shook his head slightly, as if clearing cobwebs from his thoughts. Then he leaned down and kissed my lips once more. My response to him, again, was instinctive and immediate. I pulled him closer to me, feeling the heat from his body where it touched mine. I wanted to run my hands over his body, touch his skin, feel his softness, feel his hardness… but I was too insecure, too uncertain. I had never been in this situation before. I wasn’t sure what he expected from me, what he would want from me… So I just responded to him, let my body react. “Respond but not initiate”—just like my kiss.
He kissed my lips gently, with a passion that was clearly being held back. Then he traced a line with his tongue from my lips down to my neck, just where it met my shoulder. He lingered there, sucking softly, his teeth brushing gently against my skin. He rubbed his body against mine, just slightly. It was more of a pressing against, than a rubbing against, really. But I could feel his arousal, hard and hot against my hip. I heard a groan of pleasure from his lips as he pressed against me and it held a note of urgency. But still, there was no hurry in his touch, no rush in his kiss.
As his lips moved down from my neck to my chest, his hand moved from my chest to my stomach and down to my cock. I jumped as his fingers touched me there. He raised up and smiled down at me, a very deep, genuinely amused smile. “Not expecting that, sweetheart?” I could feel my brows come together at his use of “sweetheart” as an affectionate term. He ran a finger over the crease between my brows, raising one eyebrow at me. He chuckled softly and bent to kiss that same spot between my brows. “You are so completely adorable.” He whispered the words against my skin.
I gasped as his hand stroked my cock lightly. I was already hard—had been from the moment his lips had touched mine—but I felt myself swell even more at his touch. “Mmmm” the sound was almost a sigh as it left his lips. The sound from my own was definitely a sigh as I lay back, my eyes closing. His touch was amazing. I could feel the strength in his fingers, but at the same time, they were so very gentle.
I felt his lips once more on my chest, felt his tongue running along my skin. I shivered from the sensation, yet I was anything but cold. “Oh, man… that feels so good…” I breathed the words as I arched my back s lightly, pushing into his hand. His response was to bite me lightly, nipping the skin right below my belly button. Not so that it hurt, but just hard enough to make me jump a little. He smiled against my skin. I swear I could feel his lips smile. I felt myself smile in response. I thought to myself that I was very sure I had never smiled this much during sex before.
That smile was completely wiped from my face in the next second as I gasped and exclaimed “God Almighty!” I felt as though my entire body had just been plunged into fire. His tongue licked around the base of my swollen cock, and continued licking upwards, in a spiral motion all around me. His tongue felt warm, electric. Everywhere he licked burned and throbbed. He stopped just short of the top, pausing to let his hot breath caress me. I could feel his lips almost touching me, teasing me with their closeness. I tried to push my hips upward, push my throbbing erection toward his mouth. I wanted what he was teasing me with—wanted it so bad my whole body pulsed, vibrated with the desire for it, the need for it.
“Know what you want, do you, boy?” His words were soft, whispered so close to my skin that every syllable made me twitch with desire. My response was little more than a groan as I reached for his head, my fingers tangling convulsively in the soft tendrils of his hair. His response was to run his tongue slowly over the tip of my cock, and I mean slowly. Then he slipped me into his mouth, his lips pressing firmly against my skin, so that I would feel every millimeter of their progress from the tip on down. And as he took me further into his mouth, his tongue licked around me, in that same spiral pattern that had driven me so crazy before—only this time it was reversed, spiraling downward as he drew me deeper and deeper into the liquid heat of his mouth.
He sucked rhythmically on my cock, his tongue pressing hard against my shaft. As he sucked, he took my balls in his hand and rubbed them gently then firmly, squeezing them just enough to make me gasp a little. I moaned with pleasure, I couldn’t keep the sounds inside any longer. His mouth on me was the most incredible feeling I had ever experienced. Every stroke was pure electricity. It set my senses on edge. I felt myself raising my hips, thrusting against his rhythm. He took me deeply into his mouth, permitting the tip of me to tickle the back of his throat. And as I touched the back of his throat, he would swallow and I would feel him contracting around me. And every once in a while, he would make a “mmmm” sound and the vibrations from his throat would ripple through me.
My breath was short and hot as I lost myself in the feeling. My head was swimming, though definitely not from the drinking. As I leaned my head back, I could hear the blood rushing through my head. It felt like fireworks were going off behind my eyes. His rhythm was steady and I felt my breathing matching his rhythm, as did the pulsing behind my eyes. It was like my entire body was just synchronizing itself to him.
Then he stopped. I all but whimpered as he raised his head from me. I raised myself up on my elbows, my eyes reluctantly opening. I looked down at him, my brows knit, my eyes narrowed—and my vision so blurred by this point I could barely see. He looked up at me, a soft, hazy smile on his lips. “Do you want to come, babe?” As he spoke the words, he ran one finger lightly over the tip of my cock.
“Please!” I pleaded through my gasps. Every muscle in my body was contracting with tension and anticipation. I thought I saw a little flicker of triumph in his eyes, as though he had accomplished a goal. I noticed that, even through my blurred vision. But I didn’t care. If he wanted me to beg him, if that gave him pleasure, then I would beg. I wanted it so badly. “Please, Paul… Please!”
He looked at me for a moment, that soft, hazy smile still on his lips. He ran his tongue all over my cock, his saliva glistening on my skin. Then he took me in his mouth again. Just the head this time, sucking hard on me. He wrapped one of his hands around the shaft of my cock and began stroking hard, the rhythm of his stroking matching the rhythm of his sucking. His other hand rubbed my balls, that hand moving in an opposite rhythm. “Oh God!” I exclaimed as I felt the contrast of rhythms. It was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t imagine how he could do that. But then, I couldn’t imagine anything at that moment. I watched him for a moment but that was way too much for me. I couldn’t take any visual stimulation…I could barely stand it as it was. My fingers clutched convulsively at the comforter, trying to grip it, to hold on to something. The light show behind my eyes was like the Fourth of July.
Then, just as I was certain I would just die before I came, I felt that sweet tightening of my muscles, felt that fleeting moment of pure tension—and then the incredible sensation of release. I came hard, harder than I had ever come in my life. I could feel the hot semen pumping from my burning cock. I collapsed back onto the bed, my breathing hard and fast. I just lay there, panting.
I felt him get up briefly, but I couldn’t possibly open my eyes to see where he went or what he was doing. I have no idea how much time passed before I felt him get back onto the bed and lie beside me. He took me in his arms. I could feel the sweat on his body—or was it from my body? I couldn’t tell; it didn’t matter. He brushed the hair from my eyes and kissed my forehead and then my cheek and then just under my ear, making that last kiss last a while, his lips brushing so softly over my skin, his breath hot against my neck. His hands caressed me, but with a hunger that had not been there before. As he pressed his body hard against mine, I could feel his cock against my hip. It was hard and hot.
He ran his tongue over my earlobe and his hot breath sent a chill through my body. He moved his body slightly and some how managed to turn me so that I was on my side and my back was against him. I felt him rub his cock against my ass. I could hear his breathing quicken. I could feel the heat from his body. I knew what he wanted.
He ran his hand down my side, his fingers massaging my skin as they moved slowly down to my hip. He pushed against my hip, turning me further over until I was lying on my stomach. His lips were on the back of my neck now, kissing me, sucking on my skin. One hand was on my shoulder, running down my arm, flexing his fingers in the muscles there. His other hand was now rubbing my ass, gently, really, considering I could tell he was absolutely on fire with desire at this point. He slipped his hand down between my legs, stroking the area from the base of my cock to the entrance of my ass. I gasped as his finger played at the opening. I tried to pull away from him, my breath quickening sharply as a wave of fear swept through me. He stopped instantly. He brought his hand up to my other shoulder and massaged it gently.
“I won’t hurt you, Lucas.” He whispered the words against my ear. He turned me over a little, to look in my eyes. He caressed my cheek and ran his fingers softly along my eyebrows. He tilted his head slightly and that look of wonder that had been in his eyes after our first kiss reappeared. “You are so very beautiful, you know. “ And he frowned, his brows knitting. “How anyone could ever want to hurt you is beyond imagining. But I know they did.” His words were barely more than a whisper.
He must have seen my reaction, the surprise and horror I felt at his words must have shown in my eyes. He ran a finger over my lips, then touched his lips to mine briefly, softly. “I know what happened, Lucas.” He put his finger over my lips as I started to ask him how, how he knew. My thoughts were racing. Did everyone in the world know? He seemed to read my mind and smiled very gently. “Mark told me, babe. He loves you, you know. Probably more than you realize. He told me a long time ago. Cried it all over me. But no one will hear it from me, Lucas.
“But you need to know it doesn’t have to be like that.” His expression grew very serious as he stared into my eyes. “I would never hurt you, babe.” He caressed my cheek as he shook his head slightly. “I won’t rush; I’ll take it very slowly. I want you so badly my entire body is on fire, but I promise you, I won’t do anything that won’t feel good. And if you truly don’t like what I do, I’ll stop. I won’t force anything on you. I only want to give you what you want.”
I stared up at him for a long moment. Even through the haze that clouded my senses—for they were still very cloudy, both because of the alcohol I drank and from the aftereffects of the most intense sex I had ever had—I could see that he meant what he said. His eyes stared into mine. And they drew me into his. I felt myself relaxing, noticed my breathing had almost returned to normal. I know he felt my reaction, because he smiled, and that look of wonder came into his eyes again. “So beautiful… “ I smiled back at him and sighed, a deep sigh that seemed to take the tension from my body. I turned myself back over on my stomach, resting my head on my arms. I felt suddenly very sleepy and very relaxed. I heard him catch his breath slightly before kissing the back of my neck once again.
He rubbed his hand over my back, slowly, his fingers kneading slightly. And wherever his hands touched his lips followed, light, soft kisses, warm, soft lips on my skin. I sighed as I felt myself drifting into a very hazy world. I could feel his hands on my skin, feel the warmth from his body. His touch was so light, almost not there. I started a bit as I felt him move, felt him kneel over me, straddle me. My tensing was instinctive and I felt almost embarrassed by it. I didn’t want to tense. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid. I wanted him to know that I wanted him, wanted whatever he wanted to do.
He felt my reaction and put both his hands on my shoulders, massaging them slowly, deeply. He bent down and kissed the back of my neck again, lightly, this time rubbing his cheek softly against my skin. As he bent down I could feel his hardness pressing against me, rubbing between the cheeks of my ass. I gasped a little, but did not shrink away as I had before. He kept rubbing my shoulders, his hands working a steady rhythm, massaging my muscles deeply. I felt the tension leaving my body, even as I felt him rubbing his cock against me. He moaned softly as he moved over me.
He moved his hands slowly down my back, keeping the pressure firm but gentle, working the tension from every muscle he touched. He paused his progress for a moment at my lower back, at the base of my spine. He placed the palms of both of his hands on that spot and rubbed outward, his fingers kneading into my sides. I soft groan of pleasure slipped through my lips. I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being. The heat from his hands, the rhythm of his hands—and the alcohol, no doubt—put me even deeper into that hazy world. I knew it would be very easy for me to just go to sleep—except for the fact that I did not want to go to sleep. I did not want to stop feeling his touch.
As he rubbed back and forth, he would let his hands occasionally slip down, brushing over my ass, lightly at first, then with more pressure, more contact, until he was just rubbing my ass, nothing else. He stopped for a moment, his hands going to my thighs, pushing them apart slightly as he moved himself to kneel between my legs. I felt myself tense involuntarily. His hands instantly moved back to the base of my spine, repeating that gentle back and forth motion that had lulled me into such a calm, quiet place. Patiently—incredibly patiently—he repeated his previous motions, until his hands were once again just rubbing my ass. While one hand continued to massage me gently, his other hand teased at the entrance to my body. His fingers just brushed the edges, not even trying to penetrate, as if he just wanted me to get use to the feeling of being touched there. He paused a moment and I felt a little sound leave my lips, a little murmur that clearly told him I did not want him to stop. I thought I heard him laugh a little at that sound.
I jumped a little when he touched me again. But it wasn’t from tension, just a reaction to the feeling of “cold” that was suddenly on his fingertips. He knew that, and I definitely heard him laugh a little that time. He rubbed the cold gel around my entrance, the slow, gentleness of his fingers warming the gel, forcing heat into my skin. I could feel my muscles relax even further at the warmth. And when he paused another moment and resumed touching me, even the coldness of the gel did not make me tense. Nor, surprisingly, did the feeling of his finger as it penetrated me.
I took a short breath as he moved his finger inside me, and I could feel my body squirm a little, but I wasn’t tensing, wasn’t pulling away from his touch. He continued to move his finger inside me, very gently probing just a little deeper… He would pause briefly from time to time and would resume, more of that cold gel—which had actually begun to feel good, soothing—on his finger—or by this time fingers, for he had two of them inside me from what I could tell. And I couldn’t tell much, because the feelings he was giving me were starting to take my thoughts away. He was moving his fingers deeper within me, thrusting slightly, not hard, but firmly. I moaned with pleasure at each of his thrusts, my body feeling incredibly tingly where he touched. I groaned in displeasure as he removed his fingers from me. I felt myself raising myself up a little, as if reaching for him, wanting his fingers back where they had been. I could feel him moving around, heard the sounds of a condom wrapper. I tensed a little, involuntarily. My breath quickened, but it wasn’t with fear, but with anticipation. The moment was here… and I wanted it, I knew that without any hesitation. My own cock had already grown hard, had responded to the stimulation from behind. And I knew his had been hard for a long time… I shivered a little at that thought, at the thought of all the restrained passion that had been building in him. He noticed, I knew he did—he paid very close attention to my reactions, didn’t miss a twitch. He placed one warm hand on me, caressing me slightly, acknowledging that shiver.
I could feel the shift in his body as he leaned a little forward, allowing just the tip of his cock to touch my ass, allowing it to rest lightly against my opening. My breath quickened even more. And perhaps there was just a little fear mixing with the anticipation. And he knew this also, for his hands rubbed me gently, massaging my ass, working loose any tension. As soon as my breathing began to slow a little, telling him I was relaxing again, he pushed the tip of his cock inside me—just a little, couldn’t have been more than just the very end, not even the whole head. I gasped a bit, but I didn’t pull away. But I did tense, that I knew. And if I hadn’t known, I would have been able to tell from his sudden gasp as my muscles closed around him. His own breathing quickened, and I could hear him struggling to get his own body to relax. I could feel that he wanted to be inside me, to thrust himself all the way in, to the hilt… But I could also feel that he was not going to do that, not yet. He would keep his promise to me; he would not rush.
He held there for a few moments, his hands gently massaging my ass, rubbing in a rhythmic up and down motion, kneading into my muscles. I could hear him calming, hear his own breathing slowing again, as I felt mine do the same. As soon as he felt that change in me, he pushed himself a little further inside me. He moaned as he did so, it was a sound that was almost anguish. I moaned with him, both from the pain and the pleasure that accompanied his push. Once again, my breath quickened and my muscles tensed and closed tightly around him. “Oh God!” the words seemed ripped from him, breathless. I had no idea how far inside me he was. I couldn’t tell, I couldn’t feel that—all I could feel was that burning, tingling mixture of pain and pleasure as he filled me with his cock.
This time he pulled back slightly, just a very slight bit, then pushed himself back in—not penetrating any deeper, just going to that spot he had already reached. He repeated these small, gentle thrusts and I could hear his breathing, short and hot, could feel the tension in his body as he fought to restrain himself. I was nearly beside my self at this point. My breathing was in time with his movements. I could feel my body warring with itself as I both wanted to pull away from the pain of his penetration while at the same time I wanted to push back against him, to take him deeper within me.
Either he sensed my reaction, or he could restrain himself no more. With a groan that seemed to come from the very depth of him, he pushed himself all the way inside me. I cried out in pain and I felt him stop, felt him about to pull back, to ease the pain he knew I felt. He had said he would stop if I didn’t like what he was doing. I felt a swift wave of fear sweep over me. No! I didn’t want him to stop! “No, dont!” I cried as I reached around behind him, my hand clutching at his ass, keeping him from pulling back, ending up by pulling him closer, further into me.
“God, Luc!” he gasped as I grabbed at him. He repeated the words several times as he pulled back and pushed forward, thrusting as gently as he could—I could still feel him holding back, being as gentle as possible with me. I moaned with each thrust, still not sure whether I wanted to pull a way or push into him. I felt like every nerve ending in my ass were on fire—but it was a fire that burned good, so hot and so good. I felt myself moving against him, matching his rhythm, but in opposite time. As he thrust forward, I pushed back against him, begging his cock to touch just a little deeper inside me each time. My own cock was throbbing now, and the mixture of stimulation was overwhelming. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I was just a throbbing mass of arousal. I could feel sounds coming from my mouth, feeling the air, feeling the vibration in my throat—but my ears had stopped hearing, the blood rush in my head making me all but deaf.
His thrusts quickened, his hands gripped my hips now, holding me firmly against him, helping me keep my rhythm. I was vaguely aware that his fingers were digging into my skin, vaguely aware of that pain, of that slight distraction. But only vaguely. I could hear my voice now, even over the rushing in my ears, I was crying out to him, begging him for more, pleading with him to go deeper, harder, faster… I had completely abandoned myself to him. I wanted all of him, I wanted him to be in my body, to be part of my body. My own fingers were clutching the comforter so tightly I could feel my nails digging into the fabric, nearly ripping the threads from the force. My body was all but convulsing from the shock waves of heat that rippled through every nerve. And I could feel his body tensing, feel the pressure in him building. Then I felt his body release, the tension flowing from him as I felt him convulse within me, felt him shudder as he pumped his hot fluid into me.
He all but collapsed on top of me, still inside me. He lay there gasping, panting, yet all the while kissing the back of my neck, whispering my name hotly against my skin. He pulled himself from me and moved off of me and I felt cold, empty. An involuntary whimper passed my lips. I wanted him back, wanted the heat from his body against me. I felt him get off the bed. I lay there, my breath little more than sharp pants, the muscles in my body contracting convulsively. It seemed like he was gone forever, but I knew it had to be less than a minute, because my breath had still not calmed, was still coming from me in short pants, though my body had stopped convulsing. I rolled over onto my back as I felt him get on the bed beside me. My hand reached down and I realized with a bit of a shock that I had come as well. The entire feeling had been so intense, so overpowering that I had not even noticed that part of it. I felt like my entire body had come—not just that part. I looked up at him with wonder. How had that man done that to me?
He gently wiped the come from my stomach and from the bed a towel (apparently he had found the bathroom that connected Mark’s room to mine). He lay beside me, propped up on his elbow. He smiled into my eyes as he ran his fingers softly across my chest. He brushed the hair from my eyes tenderly. His fingers seemed to linger over my skin. He bent and kissed me, softly, tenderly, his lips brushing over mine with the lightness of a butterfly’s wings. I put my arms around him, wanting him close. His skin was moist with sweat, as was my own. I returned his kiss, my lips parting, inviting his tongue to dance with mine. The intimacy of this kiss was beyond words. His tongue tangled with mine tenderly, touching me, tasting me. He pulled back after a long, lingering while and smiled down at me. “Remind me, sweetheart, to buy that girl who taught you how to kiss something very nice, will you?”
I grinned at him and he grinned back, kissing the tip of my nose lightly. I laughed. “You know, I really have to pee!” He laughed outright as I tried to manage a “cool” walk to the bathroom—and ended up nearly tripping over my own shoes. Remember, I had been drinking earlier (though THAT was all but worn off by now) and truly I wasvery unsteady right now.
When I walked back into the room, Paul was lying on the bed, stretched out, looking so completely comfortable and at home on my bed that my insides just fluttered. I stood there for a moment looking at him. He was truly a fine looking man. I looked at him as I had not looked at him before. Before he had just been either Mark’s friend, or a nice guy to talk to. But now… he was someone that had just awakened something in me that I didn’t knew existed. With one kiss he had changed my life.
He raised one eyebrow and smiled, that slightly tipped smile that made my breath catch in my throat. He didn’t say anything, just patted the bed beside him. I got into bed beside him--actually, I nearly fell into bed beside him, the entire evening was catching up to me. The rush of adrenaline that had shot through my veins as we had made love had held the effects of the alcohol at bay. But that surge was slipping away now, being replaced by a slow spread of warmth through my body, warmth and heaviness. He pulled me close to him and pulled the comforter over both of us. I laid my head on his chest and rubbed my cheek against his skin. He felt so warm. He put his arms around me. He felt so safe. I felt his lips brush my hair, heard him whisper my name as I drifted away into a world of peace I had thought I would never find again.
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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.
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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