2004-02-09
4:13 p.m.

*bed inspection*

It was a Saturday afternoon and school was on break. We were bombing around town running errands and such. I was driving, he rested his hand on my thigh. Not groping, just casual like. We hadn't noticed so much, but being friends and fuck-buddies was growing into something else, like my driving with his hand resting on my thigh. I'm fooling around, he's petrified someone will know he's got a male lover. I have a house, he's a senior in college. We don't get a lot of chances to hook up. And now his hand is resting on my thigh. It used to go in that neighborhood only to feel me up. I'm not waiting for him to start groping me this time. I am, however, loving the feel of his touch. OK, so I'm chubbing up a little down there and starting to leak a little pre-cum. I fear I'm falling in love with him. He's been in love with me long enough. I'm starting to understand why our 'hooking up' isn't sex. Too much eye contact, caressing, sensuous touching and passion in the kisses. Lust? Not so much.

On our ride we get near the college. He asks if we can stop so he can get something out of his dorm room. Fine.

We get there and he says "Be right back!" Since it's break and no one's around, I ask if I can come in and see it. He's says sure. Since his roommate, who usually sticks around during breaks has gone camping for the weekend, no prob. So we go in. It's two rooms. One's a sort of sitting room thing with their desks, tv, a couch. And then there's the bedroom, with their two beds. Long and narrow beds. (Well, he's long and narrow too, actually.)

It's kind of dark in there. No window. Only the light coming through the door. I can tell immediately which bed is his. One side of the room is a wreck with clothes all over, the other side is neat, bed made, the whole nine yards. That's his side. More than by those clues I can tell by his scent. I love the way he smells. It captures me everytime. I can't get enough!

Standing there in the semi-dark, I'm staring at his little bed, visualizing all the random pussy he's picked up and and eaten out and fucked there. My little stud! I wish I could have watched. I wish I could have joined in! So I sit down on it. He's talking about something, but I'm not hearing him. I'm too busy imagining his hot little hairy ass thrusting away, pile driving some stray cunt he lured into this lair. My jeans are getting tight and a wet spot is growing.

I find myself stroking the blanket, comparing its roughness to the roughness of his hairy legs when I stroke them. Still paying no attention to him I lie down, hoping he'll join me, or better yet, mount me. I want him to take me right here right now. I want to wrap my legs around his back and get into that fantastic rhythm he and I find so natural to us, clothes or no clothes. Feeling his body flush against mine, our movements, the way we kiss and fall deep into each other's eyes. "Hell," I realize, "We don't fuck. We never have. That's what 'making love' is!"

That realization made me dig out his pillow so I could bury my face in it to drink up his scent. I wanted him. I wanted all of him.

He got irritated that I messed his bed up. As I sat up and swung my legs around to the floor, I said, "I'll take care of it, but I need to take care of something else first." With that I reached out, grabbed his hips, pulled his crotch to my face, and started gnawing through the denim. To absolutely no surprise of mine he was already hard. It only ever took my slightest touch to get that guy up!

Before I had the chance to do it myself, he unzipped and my best friend sprang out the boxers fly, out the zipper, and down my throat in an instant. No effort, no aiming, it came to me (so to speak) all on its own. And I gorged on it like never before. My hands held one cheek each and he held my head and played with my hair so lovingly. He fucked my face, but 'fuck' isn't the right word. It was so smooth, so gentle, so goddamned sensuous I can't describe it.

With gasps he came and I sucked and swallowed every drop of cum he had to offer. And then some. I was reeling in some heaven when he said, "Stand up." I didn't hear him. I was still fixated by the taste of his cum, of him! He hoisted me up to my feet, got on his knees, opened my pants, snapped my cock out of my boxers, and went down on me in a heartbeat. I was really gooey with pre-cum at that point, but he liked to lap, lick, and suck it off and out of me, so I wasn't too concerned.

Now you gotta know that this young man is an awfully good and eager cocksucker. WAY good! Certainly for a dude that professes to the world that he's straight. Nonetheless, all I could think about was how bad I wanted to lie back down on that bed and feel his cock moving inside me. For him to make love to someone he loved, not just be nailing an available snatch. Loving someone, loving me, was a first for him. For some reason I wanted to re-inaugurate that bed. It was that, despite his ministrations, that got me off. And man did I shoot hard! He, like the 'straight' champ he is, didn't miss a drop. Even refused to snowball me. "It's mine!" he said. "You're mine!"

My heart melted, and even if we didn't get to fuck on his bed, that holy altar for me, a turning point had certainly been confirmed.

He's gone now, but that fantasy -- his taking me on his bed with his utter, total, absolute, never to be equalled scent totally surrounding me -- will never fade. I don't know if it ever will. I miss and love the guy like crazy.

There are emotionally charged moments and there are sexually charged moments. Rare are the times that they are one and the same. This was one of them, the only one I've known.

Oh. For epilogue, we zipped up and left, came back to my house. His roommate, my husband all know one another, so his being here wasn't odd. The phone rang. It was his roommate with some inane question. The important thing, important for this story anyway, is that his roommate hadn't gone camping. While we were there he had just gone to the store!

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encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02

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