Metron Ariston Part III: Proterastia
"Remember when you were more easily led Behind the cricket pavillion and the bicycle shed Trembling as your dreams came true You looked right into those blue eyes and knew..."
-Pet Shop Boys, "Can You Forgive Her?"
I didn't know why I had said it; what part of me didn't want to be by myself, wanted to be with this guy. This man, Randy. This vulnerable human being.
He was gazing into me. His frighteningly blue eyes were doing odd things to me, and I knew just by knowing that something similar was going on on his end. I reached out to touch him.
Without anything seeming to happen in between, we were embracing, I sprawling backward on the sofa, he on top of me. There seemed to be a great energy blowing through us, spinning and rendering insane. Our whole bodies were pressed together; so were our minds. I couldn't understand it, couldn't put it into words. It was as though we were occupying the same point in space.
He was breathing heavily, and I could feel what he needed. I grabbed his head and brought his lips onto mine. We kissed; it was the frenzied abandonment that comes after tentative explorations and cautious investigation of some new joy. It was wild.
I was kissing this person, and feeling closer to him than to any human being since I left home. I'd known him for two days and he met me by beating me up. It was unprocessable by any standard of rational thought, and therefore it was a good thing that my rational faculties seemed to be taking a coffee break.
"Bed?" I suggested creatively. He agreed with another deep kiss.
I got up and half-pulled him by the hand to my modest sleeping quarters. Kissing him again, I fell backwards onto my bed, wriggling up it until I was all the way on, then gave him what I hoped was a sultry look. He grinned and launched himself on top of me. His great hot bulk landed on me and warmed me all the way down into the mattress.
We started kissing again as my wandering hands began to stroke his back and caress his wonderful ass. I was worried he'd get strange about me touching his butt, but he didn't even notice and just kept kissing me. With great dispatch I pushed his open shirt off his arms, then reached down and pulled his tee-shirt out of his jeans. Interrupting the kiss only momentarily to pull the tee-shirt over his head, I flung it to one side. His chest was bare now. He was somewhat hairy, hairier than me at any rate, and stocky and muscular. He had the most fascinating nipples, which I decided to test for speed.
I decided to find his comfort level, starting low and building. I licked over his left nipple, and he gasped. "God, Denis! That's great! Do that again, please..." I kept going, putting my whole mouth to use on his tit. I saw that his inhibitions were at least for the moment rolled back. I began to nibble at his tit, just to see if he'd go for it. He moaned and shivered. I licked across his firm, hair-traced chest to his right nipple and bathed it too. Now he was lying back on the bed, moaning and tense. He was putty in my hands.
I kneeled straddling over him and stroked his chest delicately with my hands. He was almost weeping with the intensity of it, but he brought his hands up and began to touch me too. Sinuously, I peeled off my t-shirt and let him stroke my bare chest. He played with my nipples a little bit, then arched his back up to taste one. I lay down beside him and let him roll over and lick it. His inexpert tongue was nonetheless wonderful on my nipple, and I moaned to let him show I appreciated it. He lay down on top of me and I began to kiss him again, letting him feel the unique comforting warmth of two male chests together. He stroked my back and rubbed his hairier chest against my smooth one.
As we kissed I felt his hardness pressing down into my own. I rolled us over so I was on top of him, then ground down against him and elicited a gasp. His mouth was parted, his eyes languorous.
I slid my hand down and lay it experimentally on the crotch of his jeans, feeling his well-formed cock. He paused for a second and I sensed that I might have made an error. "If you'd rather not..." I said.
He appeared to be weighing the question. He shut his eyes and lay his head back, breathing in deeply through his nose, then whispered, "Yesss..."
"It's night; let's make love And we can talk about it when the morning comes..." -Kate and Anna McGarrigle, "Talk About It"
I lay down beside him and kissed him again, as I slowly undid his belt buckle and opened it, then undid the top button of his jeans. I was focusing on being very slow and soothing. If this was going to be his first same-sex experience I wanted it to be one he could look back on with satisfaction.
I found the zipper and slowly undid it, allowing his hardening cock to slowly rise out of the front opening of his black boxers. It was of average length, decent thickness, and an appetizing shade of pink. Its purple head poked out of a foreskin which was retracting slowly. I felt envious. My parents had had me mutilated at birth, then wondered why I was obsessed with sharp instruments later on.
I looked into his eyes. His head was raised and he was completely fixated on the unfolding drama, but he looked away from it and met my eyes too. I smiled slowly. "It's lovely," I whispered. It was; I should know.
"Can I touch it?" I asked him, still wanting to go slowly. He nodded, with a lust that approached pain in his eyes.
I reached down and grasped his cock in my right hand, feeling the warm, smooth flesh in my palm. He breathed out heavily and let his head drop into the pillow. Slowly, I began to jack him off, listening to his raspy breathing and feeling the solid presence of his cock in my palm. It felt delicious. I lay beside him and began to suck his right nipple as well. He was having a great time. He wasn't doing anything to me - he was much too distracted by my hand on his dick and my mouth on his tit - but I didn't mind. I didn't want him to worry about getting me off yet. I wanted to do this for him, which surprised me.
I gently kept going, watching as his eyes glazed over with the unfamiliar sensations. Gradually, then more and more, he began to thrust into my fist as I jacked him. I could tell he wanted more. After about ten minutes of this, I decided he was ready.
"Do you want me to suck you?" I whispered into his ear as I kept stroking him.
He looked hectically at me, mouth open. His pleasure-fogged brain whirred for a minute, then his eyes shut again. "Oh, Denis, please...." he pled in a whisper.
We kissed again deeply; I escaped from the kiss and began to lick his jaw, then traced a line down his throat and chest. I followed the line of his muscle to his navel, then paused for a minute to stimulate that. He seemed to enjoy that a lot, by which I mean he moaned and his cock twitched, so I stayed there a while, feeling the soft and firm flesh of his abdomen against my cheeks. Finally, when I was ready, I moved down and hovered over his cock. A bead of precum had welled up and I flicked it off with my tongue. Then I pulled back his foreskin and licked the front of his cock head in a swift swipe.
He gasped, so I did it again, eliciting another gasp. I began to lick around the rim of his cockhead, the most sensitive part of a man's prick. As he lay back on the bed in unfamiliar delight, I engulfed him in my mouth.
Still playing my tongue along his shaft and cockhead, I began to blow him slowly, folding my lips back over my teeth, caressing his cock up and down with my mouth while slowly jacking it with my fist. I raised up my eyes and watched him. His chest was heaving as he struggled to take in the sensation. Unconsciously he began to thrust into my fist and mouth. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye and ran down the side of his face. A streetlight cast a soft glow through the window onto his body. He was incredibly beautiful in the light and darkness.
I kept sucking and jacking him. His breath was coming in slight whistles; every muscle in his body seemed to be tense. Finally, I felt his cock expand in my hand. "I'm going to - !" he gasped.
I took my mouth off his cock and jacked him rapidly, and he shot onto his chest. I could see tears running down his cheeks and glistening in the light. I slid up beside him and kissed him softly on the cheek as he caught his breath. "I'll get you a washcloth," I whispered, then got up and fetched one from the bathroom.
When I got back, I was startled to see him sitting up in bed, with his seed still on his chest, his face in his hands. He was weeping.