The other night last week with Patrick was only our third night together, but it felt so natural that it could have been our thirteenth or thirtieth night. We have a connection that just makes it so easy to hang out. I don’t feel the need to pretend to be someone else or to fake it in any way. It just is what it is, and we are who we are. What could be more simple and good?
He made me another amazing dinner, lasagna and a killer tossed salad. After dinner I confessed to him that I wasn’t feeling very sexy or sexual that night (or so I thought). I talked to him about the scruffy face issue, that I wasn’t so into it, so he leaned over to brush his face against my lips, “what about now?” he asked. He had done an exquisite job shaving, and I was surprised to find his face really quite soft and smooth.
“Much better,” I sighed with a smile, giving in to a passionate kiss. Wasn’t I going to try to keep my hands off of him? Shit. Well, maybe it’s true, “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
I told him about how I didn’t know why, but I liked playing with his cock better when it’s soft, that I’m intimidated by it somehow when it’s hard. That it’s more of a Funky Elephant crush for me at the moment. I don’t know how, but he seemed to understand. If a woman had ever told me that my cock intimidated her, the sexual beast in me would stroll up to the podium in my head and declare, “Fuck. Her. Now.” Because I know what it’s like to be a man, I immediately recognized and respected his ability to show a little restraint.
We talked for about an hour, about all kinds of stuff, whatever came to mind. Of course the conversation steered towards sex, because that seems to always come to mind. And then all of a sudden, Patrick was sucking my cock. Gentle, gentle, gentle, not so rough. I don’t want to be consumed tonight, merely teased. Keep the Electrolux unplugged for now, I’m content to fuck only the off switch tonight.
I just wanted to dabble anytime he was soft, but mostly I kept him out of my mouth for the night. We made out and played around with each others cocks on and off for hours like the other nights. Edging he calls it. Just playing a bit, backing off, playing a bit, backing off. I didn’t know it had a name, I had done it sometimes masturbating when I had the time to jerk off all day, or when I wanted to dump a really huge cumload.
The sex that night was different, detached, more play than passion. Somehow Patrick seemed to be satisfied just worshiping my body, jerking off onto me while I laid back on couch. I’m impressed that he doesn’t seem to have the need to penetrate to get off. As if I’m living pornography for him to speckle with cum splotches. The voyeur/exhibitionist aspect of it is kinda kinky, a real turn on for me.
This time when he jerked off over me, his cumload was the most I’d ever seen him do. I used his cum to lubricate my cock and masturbate. I tried to cum, but I couldn’t. Sigh.
Since I was a total mess, I went to the shower to clean off, and there I kind of started to trip out. “Is my man-crush over? Why can’t I cum? Why do I keep wishing he had a cunt? Why can’t I cum? Is this the bisexual dilemma? What the fuck? Why can’t I cum?”
I fixed something on his computer for him, got his msn email to sound a new email alert – which is very easy to do, I am not bragging about computer skills here ;) - and of course being impressed with my familiarity around the OS, Patrick quickly had his hands all over my body. When he’s touching me, our affections have few limits. So naturally, soon we were both naked again, and he was straddled over me, our balls touching, our dicks entwined as we made out.
He slid down my body and gently took my balls into his mouth, which had always had hurt before, but tonight it felt divine. He carefully sucked my tender balls while I jerked off and came closer and closer to climax. Then he stood up, leaned into me and I pumped our cocks side by side with my knuckles together and finally came, spurting out onto our chests. Patrick collapsed on me, both of us breathing heavily. It was another night to remember.
He made me another amazing dinner, lasagna and a killer tossed salad. After dinner I confessed to him that I wasn’t feeling very sexy or sexual that night (or so I thought). I talked to him about the scruffy face issue, that I wasn’t so into it, so he leaned over to brush his face against my lips, “what about now?” he asked. He had done an exquisite job shaving, and I was surprised to find his face really quite soft and smooth.
“Much better,” I sighed with a smile, giving in to a passionate kiss. Wasn’t I going to try to keep my hands off of him? Shit. Well, maybe it’s true, “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
I told him about how I didn’t know why, but I liked playing with his cock better when it’s soft, that I’m intimidated by it somehow when it’s hard. That it’s more of a Funky Elephant crush for me at the moment. I don’t know how, but he seemed to understand. If a woman had ever told me that my cock intimidated her, the sexual beast in me would stroll up to the podium in my head and declare, “Fuck. Her. Now.” Because I know what it’s like to be a man, I immediately recognized and respected his ability to show a little restraint.
We talked for about an hour, about all kinds of stuff, whatever came to mind. Of course the conversation steered towards sex, because that seems to always come to mind. And then all of a sudden, Patrick was sucking my cock. Gentle, gentle, gentle, not so rough. I don’t want to be consumed tonight, merely teased. Keep the Electrolux unplugged for now, I’m content to fuck only the off switch tonight.
I just wanted to dabble anytime he was soft, but mostly I kept him out of my mouth for the night. We made out and played around with each others cocks on and off for hours like the other nights. Edging he calls it. Just playing a bit, backing off, playing a bit, backing off. I didn’t know it had a name, I had done it sometimes masturbating when I had the time to jerk off all day, or when I wanted to dump a really huge cumload.
The sex that night was different, detached, more play than passion. Somehow Patrick seemed to be satisfied just worshiping my body, jerking off onto me while I laid back on couch. I’m impressed that he doesn’t seem to have the need to penetrate to get off. As if I’m living pornography for him to speckle with cum splotches. The voyeur/exhibitionist aspect of it is kinda kinky, a real turn on for me.
This time when he jerked off over me, his cumload was the most I’d ever seen him do. I used his cum to lubricate my cock and masturbate. I tried to cum, but I couldn’t. Sigh.
Since I was a total mess, I went to the shower to clean off, and there I kind of started to trip out. “Is my man-crush over? Why can’t I cum? Why do I keep wishing he had a cunt? Why can’t I cum? Is this the bisexual dilemma? What the fuck? Why can’t I cum?”
I fixed something on his computer for him, got his msn email to sound a new email alert – which is very easy to do, I am not bragging about computer skills here ;) - and of course being impressed with my familiarity around the OS, Patrick quickly had his hands all over my body. When he’s touching me, our affections have few limits. So naturally, soon we were both naked again, and he was straddled over me, our balls touching, our dicks entwined as we made out.
He slid down my body and gently took my balls into his mouth, which had always had hurt before, but tonight it felt divine. He carefully sucked my tender balls while I jerked off and came closer and closer to climax. Then he stood up, leaned into me and I pumped our cocks side by side with my knuckles together and finally came, spurting out onto our chests. Patrick collapsed on me, both of us breathing heavily. It was another night to remember.
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1 comment:
gotta hear more. pics of patrick too would be welcome
hornymarriedboy
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