The usual disclaimer applies... if you're old enough to be reading this, then duh, don't read it. This is only part one, even though it doesn't really have a continuance point at the end... I didn't wanna saturate it with anything other than the sex, for this time, heh. Next time (part two) probably will go more in depth to explain the story. You can consider this the prologue, I guess.
"Look me in the eyes when you suck my cock," whispers Angel, staring down at the femme boy sitting between his knees, who has Angel's cock in his tightly gripped hands. The boy is wearing purple lipstick, but it has smudged all over his face, as has his mascara and black eyeliner, which streaks down his paper-white cheeks, ending abruptly at his chin, where a wetness clings to the bottom, not quite falling but barely hanging on. His name is Stephen. Angel's hand grips his burgundy hair and he admires the image of it, his white fingers tangled in the deep reddish-purple mess. He pulls Stephen's face back to his member and feels the familiar warmth engorge him once more.
Stephen's eyes look up now, his beautiful baby blue eyes, into Angel's gaze and he cannot help but whimper. He does not know he sits here with this divine creature's face buried in his lap, but it is happening nevertheless, like a dream come true. Stephen sinks lower, engulfing more of Angel's eight-inch cock - he is down to seven or so inches. One more and he'll have taken it all. He feels Stephen's velvety smooth hands wrapped around his balls and the base of his cock, rubbing, touching. Electricity seems to pulsate through him because of this touch; he has never felt something so wonderful, something so absolutely breathtaking.
Reaching down, he rubs his fingers over Stephen's cheek, relishing the touch, the silky smoothness of it. His hands trail back to the boy's hair, which he begins to play with. "You're so pretty," he whispers, stroking the boy's hair. Angel's face is powder-less, but he wears silver lipstick and black eye-make-up. His hair is spiky and black, and all of this stands out against his naturally pale complexion - his skin is the color of ivory, and his eyes the color of copper. He is wearing no shirt, but leather pants, which are halfway down to his knees. This is in contrast to Stephen, who is wearing deep red vinyl pants and a black long-sleeve dress shirt, which clings tightly to his skin.
Angel pulls Stephen's face away from his lap and then slides his fingers into the boy's mouth. He runs them over the tongue, under it, across the teeth and into the back of his throat - his mouth feels like silk, like velvet - his velvet goldmine. He pulls Stephen close to him, running his hands over the boy's back, caressing it through the black shirt, before his hands reach up underneath and run over Stephen's chest, feeling him, touching him. Angel gives him a light kiss on the side of the lips, then on the eyelid, leaving a barely noticeable silver print with each touch of his mouth.
Stephen begins his physical worship of Angel's perfect body, kissing the chest, his nipples, playing with his cock. He licks and bites the white skin, still looking up into Angel's eyes, who can no longer take the delirium of waiting madness. He pulls Stephen to his face and kisses him passionately, sliding his tongue into his partner's mouth, sucking on his lips as his hand trails to the boy's still buttoned pants. He undoes them, slides them slowly off while running his hand over Stephen's smooth thigh. As they finally come off, he sits Stephen in his lap, now completely naked, and continues to make out with him.
"Three and Nine" by Roxy Music plays in the background softly, enhancing the sensual experience, Brian Ferry's soft and haunting voice echoing "three and nine could show you any fantasy", the mellow country-life riffs and saxophone flooding the shaded room.
Stephen slides off of Angel's lap and falls back to his knees. He begins to slide Angel's leather pants off and leaves them in a pile on the floor. Tossing his lover a gaze, he slides back onto the red carpeted floor and begins to slide away, still gazing wantingly at Angel. He curls up into himself, rubbing his hands over his chest, and Angel slides off of the chair, now completely naked as well, and crawls to his lover. He reaches Stephen's face and nuzzles it with his own, before embracing him. He holds him gently, rocking him, kissing him, stroking him. Stephen whimpers in ecstasy as Angel slowly licks his throat, begins to softly bite it. He is completely hard, and seven and a half inches jut into Angel's bent leg.
"You are such a pretty lovely boy, my pretty doll," says Angel, half whispering and half crying. Over the two has coming an overwhelming, encompassing joy, an ecstasy unfelt by either until this moment. Angel's hand moves to the base of Stephen's member and begins to squeeze it softly. His head moves to it and begins to lightly lick it, staring at Stephen's beautiful face, with his closed eyes, his mouth quivering in both ecstasy and the effect of the lipstick on it. He kisses the head of Stephen's cock wetly, and moves up and down the shaft tenderly, his hand now on the upper half of it. He takes it into his mouth, holding the boy's testicles in his other hand, stroking them as well.
He closes his eyes, tasting his lover, when he feels a wetness engorge his own cock again, and he opens them once more to see Stephen sucking him again. He moves his free hand to the boy's face, feeling it's softness, it's simple beauty. He can no longer take it, and he ejaculates, erupting in Stephen's mouth. At this moment, Stephen begins to move quickly in and out of Angel's mouth, and concurrently erupts, spewing streams of white semen into his lover's mouth, who swallows it greedily. They both feel something immensely sensual in this, incredibly intimate.
Pulling away from Stephen's face, Angel slides on the carpet to meet his eyes, and wraps his strong arms around the fragile femme boy. Stephen begins to whimper and suddenly tears are streaming from his eyes. Angel does not have to ask why. He knows why.
They lie like that, Stephen holding himself and being held by Angel, for nearly an hour, naked on the floor. But hours end, and so must their moment, much to the reluctance of each. It's the cold that gets them, that makes them move, that makes them re-clothe. Their few moments of happiness are gone.
Eh, there's more, if I get enough feedback. Angelgoneheathen@hotmail.com