Brian and Justin’s POV
Brian comes home from work early to find Justin there as well and they um…have
a little fun.
Rated NC 17
Spoilers: I would put this about mid-season two, but refers to nothing in the
plotline directly.
Author’s note: The italicized sentences are from “Your Body is a Wonderland”
by John Mayer.
Brian
I slide the door open, immediately ridding myself of my briefcase and jacket.
Work was so shitty I had to leave early. I never leave early. Hell, I always
stay late. I arrive early, but never leave early. I just had this headache,
this horrible fucking headache. I stayed out last night, fucking late…well until
just before 3am of course. When I got home, slightly tweaked, he was asleep.
I didn’t fuck anyone while I was out, and all I wanted to do was go home and
fuck him. I didn't wake him, I mean I usually do, it’s just…well, he just looked
so damn peaceful.
When I finally got home, I found him all wrapped up on his side of the bed.
I couldn't help picturing his beautiful body, tucked naked within the twisting,
turning sea of blue linen. He was snoring, just a tiny bit, the way he does
when he’s totally relaxed and sleeping deeply. I just watched him while I undressed
and I watched him while I got into bed and then I lay down next to him and watched
him some more. I hated myself this morning for spending so much fucking time
just watching this kid breathe. It kept me up until 5 in the fucking morning
and now I have a fucking headache.
Just as I’m wondering whether a handful of aspirin and a shot of Jim Beam will
put me to sleep, I hear it – a little voice coming from the other side of the
loft. I turn abruptly, to assess the previously ignored side of the loft and
there he sits. Headphones on, back towards me, paint palette in his left hand
and brush in his right. Justin has his easel out and a large canvas propped
on it. He’s painting the view of the city through the bank of windows on the
west side of the loft as the sun sets in the late afternoon sky.
What’s he doing here? He has class all day on Thursday and doesn't get home
until well after I do - usually after 8pm. I start to walk over and bitch at
him for ditching class, but I stop to watch him paint. I see the brush gliding
across the smooth white canvas, guided by the light touch of his hand, creating
breathtaking shades of orange and gold and red. He’s capturing the afternoon
sky with a perfection I’ll never know. In that instant, I'm floored by the realization
that I have no skill that compares to his ability to create a work of art. I’ve
seen him draw and paint and work on his new computer thousands of times, but
something about it still gets me in the gut. I would say it was jealousy, but
really it feels more like pride.
Justin
When I got to Life Drawing II this afternoon, there was a note on the door from
our professor reading: “Family Emergency: Class Cancelled. See you next week.”
At first I was pissed, because I was already on campus and didn’t want to wait
around for three hours for my next class. Then I had a brainstorm: I decided
that because I’d never missed my Pop Art class it was high time I acted like
an average college student and skipped out. Going to PIFA I rarely have the
inclination or opportunity to behave like a “normal” college student. My classes
are so engaging and demanding that I never miss a day, regardless of the circumstances.
So this afternoon I decided to catch the bus back to the loft and catch up on
a little solitude.
After 30 minutes of sitting on the couch watching cable reruns of 90210, I got
the itch to start painting. Maybe it was because I skipped class or maybe the
view through the bank of windows beside me was just too gorgeous to pass up,
but I found myself dragging my easel out of the storage closet. I set up all
of my supplies and then ran down the street to the newly opened art supply store
(what luck!) to grab a fresh canvas.
I got a big one, hoping to fully capture a realistic view of the late afternoon
sky over Pittsburgh. The light today has been incredible. As I paint, the sky
changes constantly, adding new dimensions to my creation as I go along. I drag
my brushes through reds and oranges and yellows, creating deep, warm golden
hues. I think as far as art is concerned I’m much better at drawing than painting;
my strong suit is capturing the human form, but I love to pick up brushes every
once in a while to explore the color spectrum.
Brian
After watching Justin color the canvas for more moments than I care to admit,
I finish my walk across the room towards him. Suddenly I couldn’t give a shit
why he’s here, I’m just glad he is.
I think about just running my hands over his body and kissing the back of his
neck, but I realize it will probably startle him too much. Standing close behind
him I say his name, “Justin” and wait. When he doesn’t respond I say it louder,
this time reaching out to touch his shoulder.
He jumps, throwing the palette down and gripping his brush, ready to use it
as a weapon. As he turns, he knocks his Discman to the floor, which in turn
rips the headphones from his ears. By the time he sees me, he's covered in paint,
and his heart is racing a million miles a minute.
Wiping a blob of red paint from the bridge of my nose, I laugh and hold my hands
out in front of me, pretending to guard myself.
“Jesus! Brian! You scared the living shit out of me!
I nod and try not to laugh. “I called to you, you just weren’t listening.”
“I had my headset on,” He says exasperatedly as he motions to his Discman, now
face down on the floor. It’s probably broken. Great, one more thing I get to
spend money on this week.
“Yeah, I was actually trying not to scare you.”
His breathing finally back to normal, and his anger at the situation dissipated
by the sweetest look I can muster, he turns to assess the damage.
”Shit! There’s paint on the floor.” There was, but not much. Almost all of it
had landed on Justin or on the drop cloth, save for a few drops on my face and
pants.
“Not
much, it’s fine.” I reach out to grab his waist, suddenly remembering what it
was I doing.
His upturned face conveys a look of defeat and apology. I just smile and lean
down to kiss him. “We’ll clean it up later.” And that must be enough for him.
He starts to return my kiss in earnest, his tongue slipping between my lips and
tracing the contours of my mouth as I salivate just thinking about him. I feel
him reach behind his back to put his paintbrush in the tall jar of water. I
open my eyes just enough to take a closer look at his painting as I pull him
closer and remember how good he tastes.
Justin
I thought Brian was going to be so pissed that I’d gotten the brightly colored
paint all over the place. There’s some on the floor, a little on his pants.
Fuck, I can’t believe I jumped like that. It was his fault though; that must be
why he’s being so forgiving. I can’t believe he isn’t running all over the
place, trying to clean it all up. He must really be preoccupied.
When his tongue begins charting paths within my mouth, slowly playing against
every soft surface inside, I realize that I'm his preoccupation. Or at least
sex, in which it appears I’ll have a starring role this afternoon.
I sigh into him, letting his body take me. When we're still clothed, and he’s
touching me all over like this, I like to move my hips against his and grind our
covered cocks together.
I want this to last, so I pull back. “What are you doing home?” I ask him
innocently.
He shakes his head, “What are you doing home?” As if that's the better
question.
“Class was cancelled.” I say flatly; it’s the truth, just not the whole truth.
He holds my gaze for a moment as if checking my eyes for lies. I’m a horrible
liar; he can usually tell when I’m trying. When I my eyes widen to gaze at him
unflinchingly, he realizes I’m telling the truth, most of it anyway.
“I had a killer headache,” he finally answers. I stand up on my toes a little,
kiss his temples and then flutter light, soft kisses down each side of his
face, taking special care to lick the edges of his ears, which he loves. He
gasps a little, he can probably tell by now that I’m not only horny, but I’m in
a romantic mood. That generally means there are good things to come for him. A
deep massage, an exquisitely long rim job, a deep-throat blow job that lasts
until he screams loud enough to shake the building. We can fuck anytime, and we
do, but this afternoon I want to make love to Brian.
“I can think of a few things that might make it go away.” I say devilishly.
We’ve got the afternoon
One thing I've left to do
Discover me
Discovering you
My mind reeling with ideas, I go back to kissing him for a little while. I let
him run his hands all over my clothed body, but stop him when he tries to
discard my t-shirt and unzip my jeans. We’re never both home during the week,
in the middle of the afternoon, and I’m taking full advantage of the time we
have.
Suddenly I'm seized by a great idea, and I tear my mouth away from his. First I
focus on how red and swollen his lips are - how they stay parted, glistening
with saliva, as he waits to see what my next move is. I raise my eyebrow, “Hang
on a sec?” I ask to be sure he’ll let me put my plan into action.
He groans a little and then nods. I turn around and start moving my easel and
paint supplies out of our way.
Brian
Removing my suit jacket, I turn it as I check for paint stains. I look at the
few specks of crimson goo already drying on the left thigh of my
charcoal-colored pants. I shake my head, I have a million suits just like this
one, but it’s still one of my favorites. Maybe that little whiz kid at the dry
cleaner can get it out for me. You should see some of the stains he’s removed.
Putting my jacket aside, I turn to watch Justin. I have to smile as he works
quickly, moving his easel, paints, and canvas to the other side of the loft. I
notice he leaves his paint palette, its colors now swirled together from its
earlier fall, and a paintbrush on the drop cloth on the floor.
When he’s finally done, he walks up and starts kissing me again without
warning. The heat is building between us and I know he won’t be able to
maintain this slow romantic bullshit much longer. He wants me to fuck him as
much as I want to fuck him. He’s usually begging for my cock long before I hit
point break. That’s what’s great about Justin: he wants it just as much, just
as bad, just as fast and just as hard as I do…only he wants it five minutes
ago. And he’s always ready to go one more round. If I were honest with myself -
which I’m generally not - I’d admit that this kid had me beat in the stamina
department. Somehow though, I always manage to make it seem like he's the one
who wants to stop, knowing full well it’s always me who’s worn out.
He starts to undress me, still going pretty slowly. I move my hands to
reciprocate, but he stops me. “Just you,” he whispers. Justin’s games are
usually fun, so I’ll go along. Far be it from me to put a stop to any kink he
might have in mind.
Sliding his hands down my waist as he rids me of my pants and underwear, he
smiles up at me, “You actually wore some today,” he motions to the gray boxer
briefs I’m stepping out of.
I roll my eyes at him. “These pants make my dick itch if I don’t.” It’s true,
they do.
He stands up, raising the hem of my dress shirt just a little so he can peek at
my now rock hard cock. After staring for a minute, he drops the shirt, licking
his lips as he looks up at me. My balls tighten in anticipation; he has such a
fucking gorgeous mouth. One I’d like to see wrapped around my dick right now.
He
loosens my tie, guides it over my head then undoes each button on my shirt,
placing kisses down my chest as he goes. I let myself relax under his gentle
touch, finally moaning when he takes my right nipple between his lips. I stand
there and take this torture, this beautiful torture, until he uses his teeth on
my left nipple. Then I decide I’ve had enough.
Grabbing him by the waist I practically shove him to the floor. Halfway there,
he regains his balance and fights me to stand again. “Wait, wait, wait,” he
chuckles and I know he’s not angry.
Smiling that classic Sunshine smile at me he says, “Let me do this. I’ll help
you relax. You could use a little of that.” I sigh and nod, resigning myself to
the kid’s torturous activities. I’ll let him do what he wants. I doubt I’ll
regret it.
Justin
I finally get Brian to fucking settle down and let me act out my little
fantasy. It wasn’t easy at first. I was undressing him and he was grabbing at
my dick. I was kissing him and he had his hands down the back of my pants. But
I told him I wanted to help him relax and he sort of agreed to let me do what I
wanted.
Taking in his naked body standing tall in front of me, dick fully erect, I lick
my lips and then suck them into my mouth. I bite them as I realize this is
going to be harder than I thought. I already want to bend over and let Brian
slide inside. I crave his cock all the fucking time.
But, even more than that I really do want him to relax. And I want to know I
can still surprise him.
I walk him to the paint-spattered drop cloth positioned in the center of the
room, “Lie down,” I instruct.
“What? There’s paint all over that fucking thing.” He’s not really mad, but his
voice is a little loud.
I nod, “Exactly.” I smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat, letting him know that’s
part of the plan. He looks at me, very unsure of what he’s about to do, and
then finally lies down.
An odd look crosses his face but then he relaxes on the cloth. “Okay?” I ask,
starting to step out of my own clothes.
I stand above Brian as I slowly undress. I pull my shirt over my head and pinch
my nipples as I run my tongue over my lips. His face doesn’t show interest, but
his quivering dick tells me otherwise.
I slide my pants onto the floor and kick them out of my way. I turn a few full
circles, shaking my underwear-clad ass in Brian’s face. He lays still,
expressionless, but once again his dick lets me know that he likes this. I slip
my underwear down over most of my ass and slide a finger across the crack. A
glance over my shoulder confirms that he's still watching me.
I push them down the rest of the way, step out of them, and kick them in
Brian’s direction. Without moving an inch he reaches out, grabs them from the
air, and dropping them to his face, he inhales deeply. I blush, he’s never done
that before. It’s really dirty, but in a really sexy way. I have to concentrate
on what I was doing so I'm not sidetracked by the small gesture.
I slowly circle my hips and squat a little to expose my perfect pink pucker to
him. His low bass rumble tells me he wants so badly to reach up and grab my
ass, make it his. But not yet, I still have plans for Brian this afternoon.
Brian
Little fucker is shaking that fine ass right in my face, bending over and
teasing me with his tight hole. I so want to reach up and grab him, impale him
on my dick and make him beg until I let him ride me. But, I said I’d follow his
instructions and I will. I lie still, watching his twisted strip tease until he
finally walks over to the drop cloth, straddles my thighs and sits down on me.
“Do you feel the paint?” He whispers, and though it’s a completely innocent
string of words, it sounds really sexy.
I nod, “Yeah, the shit is getting all over my back.”
“Good” he replies very simply.
Now firmly seated, he moves into a position of dominance. Our years of bed play
have taught Justin when, where and how to take control. He’s not seated in a
predatory position. He takes my arms and places them at my sides, his eyes
telling me not to move them. We’ve played this type of game before, but I’m
usually the one giving orders.
He reaches over my head and pulls a paintbrush out of the murky water, shakes
it out and dips it in purplish-black paint. He brings it close to my face; the
paint clinging precariously to the edge of the brush. Then he takes it and with
a long, quick stroke, makes a thick dark line down the center of my chest.
I inhale quickly and breathlessly await his next move. He lowers the paintbrush
to each nipple, outlining it with a dark, thinner line. Before I know what’s
happening, Justin is moving at an intense pace, using my skin as a canvas.
Justin
After I make the first stroke, I’m hesitant. I watch his eyes after I’ve left a
deep purple streak down the center of his chest. He sucks in a deep breath and
holds it; I know it means he’s waiting for my next move. Since I don’t hear a
complaint I continue. After two slow circles around his nipples and a couple of
shorter lines near his ribcage I decide that he isn’t going to protest. It
would appear he’s going to let me paint him, or rather on him.
Picking up different colors of paint from my palette, well the ones that are
still distinguishable, I start to create a myriad of lines and shapes on
Brian’s torso, losing myself in the feeling of the brush gliding over his skin.
I get high on the sight of his body covered in the marks I’m making. His eyes
start to flutter and I feel his dick throbbing and leaking beneath me. I’m
barely touching him, but it’s driving him mad.
One mile to every inch of
Your skin like porcelain
Once I’ve covered his chest with lines I go to work on his arms. I take what’s
left of the red and create muscles over his biceps; it looks like his outer
skin has been stripped away. I trace the brush down his forearm and out to his
hand where I line each finger with a different color. I want to cover every
inch of Brian’s body in paint, I want him to become a living work of art. With
a body chiseled in the vein of Michelangelo, Brian is a work of art when he's
nude, but when I add my paint, my…mark, it’s like I had a hand in creating the
work, the beauty. It nearly takes my breath away.
I move to the empty space in the center of his torso, which I’ve deliberately
left blank for my signature. I start to form the “J” in Justin when I think
better of it. Turning the “J” into an “I”, I hesitate and then add “love,” -
looking up at Brian, I wait for him to acknowledge what I’m doing. He finally
looks at the words and then at me and then watches as I add the “you.” Brian
knows I love him, and I’ve told him so. But, due to our arrangement and the
fact that he’s never going to be able to give those words back to me, I rarely
have a chance to utter them. I realize that maybe what Brian needs is someone
to tell him more often that they feel that very specific, very amazing emotion
of love towards him. So I write it on his body, where anyone could see it, but
only he and I will.
He looks at the words, imprinting their image into his mind, and then finally
he looks up at me. I see gratitude written all over his face and suddenly I am
very happy that I marked him. No regrets…
Slowly moving my hips over his, I work our cocks together in a barely
noticeable rhythm. I can feel him trying to arch beneath me as his eyes follow
each move I make. Fortunately, I’m heavy enough to keep his advances under
control.
“Justin,” he says in a low rumble. I look at him, stopping my brush for a
moment. I blink innocently and lower my mouth to his, unable to resist his
perfect lips, practically purple with lust, for one more second.
One pair of candy lips and
Your bubble gum tongue
As I lean in to explore his mouth for seemingly the millionth time, I get a
head rush as I inhale the scent of the paint covering his body. Moving his arms
around my waist, he touches me for the first time, drawing me in, pulling me
closer. The still damp paint on his chest slides between us, making an imprint
of the design on Brian’s chest. I lean up and he looks at me. We both smile,
realizing that we’ve inadvertently created a mirror image.
We stare for a long while before I finally put the brush down and move the
palette away from Brian’s head, kissing down his body as I do so. My lips touch
so many different colors of paint that I'm sure I look like a color-blind drag
queen. When I get to his dick, standing at full attention, I pause to take in
its length and width and scent. I’ve done this at least a thousand times
before, but it never gets old. As an artist I want to draw the things I see, I
want to pick up a pencil and a sketchpad and let my creativity guide me to a
place where nothing else matters but my subject and the drawing. When I look at
Brian’s cock I have to fight with myself not to run and grab a pad and pencil.
Of course I want to touch it, taste it, suck it, make love to it…but I also
really, really want to draw it, immortalize it.
Tracing the tip with my tongue, I flick the slit and make him gasp. He bucks
his hips, something he never does. The foreplay’s gone on so long that he’s
desperate. For the first time I catch site of my own dick: deep red, nearly
purple, arched so hard that it's practically touching my belly. I’d been so
lost in the painting and thinking about Brian’s cock that I nearly forgot how
horny I was.
I lower my mouth onto his dick, slowly engulfing it until it taps the back of
my throat. I couldn't take all of him for the longest time, but Brian never
complained. Showing amazing patience, he'd tried teaching me by example:
sucking me off, the tip of my dick pressing hard and fast against the back of
his throat. At first I'd nearly puke whenever I'd try to reciprocate, but
practice makes perfect. Now I can take it like a pro.
Brian starts to moan and writhe under me as I deep-throat him, bringing his
cock all the way into my mouth and then all the way out, giving it hard, long
sucks that leave him breathless. I keep going, despite his gasps, despite his
efforts to escape the pleasure-pain: that good pain that makes you want to let
go and hold on simultaneously. He probably wants to flip me over and finish
this inside of me, but I have other plans.
And if you want love,
We'll make it
Swimming a deep sea
Of blankets
Take all your big plans
And break 'em
I slow down the sucking, making him curse and moan a string of indecipherable
curses, surely damning the day I was born. But, of course, I know he loves
every fucking second of this.
I slide my hands under his ass as he raises his hips. Brian’s usually pretty
skittish about this one part of his body. He lets me rim him, even lets me
finger-fuck him, but it takes a lot of finessing. I’m pretty sure I’ve paid my
dues today.
His
legs rise up a little, to give me better access to his absolutely fine rear
end. I run feather-light touches up and down each asscheek, continuing to
slowly, very slowly, suck his cock.
I taste his precum as it leaks into my mouth. I swirl it around on my tongue
and run it over his dick before swallowing. I let my index finger tease his
hole gently, preparing him for the intrusion.
This is bound to be a while
Your body is a wonderland
In a quick movement, I bring two fingers to my mouth, replacing his dick with
my digits for just a second. As Brian's momentarily neglected dick pulses in
the cool air, I wet my fingers as much as I can. He's practically begging for
my touch by the time they make their way back to his now spastic hole. When I
touch him, his groan conveys his gratitude for the renewed attention.
Your body is a wonder
I’ll use my hands
I slide my wet index finger into his ass, just up to the second knuckle, and
wait for his body to adjust. He’s already so hard and so ready that I can feel
his pulse throb around my finger. I swirl my finger and watch his body
react...violently. His back arches, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are
closed while his hands struggle to grasp and direct my head as I continue
blowing him. From my limited vantage point, I can only see his paint covered
torso and the underside of his chin, a bizarrely beautiful sight.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He mutters as my sexual prowess continues to drive
him right to the edge and then yank him back. I know he won’t take too much
more of this, but I do want to try something.
With my free hand, I reach for the paintbrush that I used to color Brian all
the shades of the afternoon sky. Contemplating its girth, I smile to myself as
I run my hand over its smoothly rounded, slickly lacquered wooden shaft. I
suddenly recall the motto of one of my favorite art teachers: "Always be
sure to use the right tool for the job."
Taking my fingers out of his hot little hole, I quickly replace them with the
slender, cool paintbrush handle. It can reach further than my fingers and can
touch his prostate in ways that I can’t. Not to mention the fact that working
my favorite paintbrush into Brian’s ass is hot as hell.
Startled by the change in instruments, he rears his head. As he peers down at
me to see what I've done, his legs fall apart, which in turn pulls his dick
from my mouth. I pull the the brush from his snug ass to show him what I’m
using.
“Relax,” I say in a low, husky, totally unidentifiable voice. I don’t think
I’ve ever been so fucking turned on.
He sees the look in my eyes, hears the sound of my voice and knows that I
really want to do this and that he’s safe with me. He quickly resigns himself
to the paintbrush and settles back onto the drop cloth. For the first time in a
while I have a rational thought: 'we should wash the paint off before it dries
too much on his skin.' My thoughts become more focused when Brian’s hands grasp
my hair as he guides my mouth back to his dick.
Tongue torturing his balls and paintbrush easing into his hole, I run my hand
up his slender torso, tracing the fine patch of hairs that extend from his
navel to the top of his pubes. I wonder why it's called a happy trail? Well, I
guess its because it leads to a place that makes you pretty fucking happy.
Brian
Jesus Christ! This kid has me locked up like a set of Chinese finger cuffs. My
dick at the mercy of his tongue and my ass the mercy of his paintbrush. Wow,
that’s an unexpected thought.
Fuck me, but it feels really fucking good. I think the main reason that I don't
generally relinquish my ass to anyone, let alone Justin, is that when I do it’s
something different…something…well I don’t want to use the word special, but
that’s what it is. Like now, Justin’s fucking torturing me with a paintbrush
handle and I’m about to erupt like Mount Vesuvius.
I try not to fuck myself on the ridiculous paintbrush because I don’t want him
to have any fucking clue how much I’m enjoying this. I can usually keep myself
from coming for as long as I need to - years of practice have taught me
world-class restraint - but right now I actually think I might pass out if I
don’t come soon.
The handle in my ass moves more swiftly, brushing my prostate with greater
force each time it enters. Justin’s mouth moves more quickly and his free hand
starts to jack the bottom of my dick. God how is he so good at this? How does
he always know what I need? How does some fucking kid understand me better than
I understand myself? It blows my fucking….oh Godfuckingdamn….
I come in hot, sharp waves that make me completely lose control of my body. I’m
jerking and bucking and I know that crazy, loud things pour out of my lips and
into the air, but beats the fuck out of me what they might be. I shoot and
shoot and feel my balls empty all over Justin’s face and down his throat. I
feel my ass clench that damn handle, simultaneously trying to pull it deeper
and expel it.
I lie very still as he slowly removes it and finishes licking the come from the
tip of my dick. With one hand on the side of his face and the other resting
across my paint-covered stomach, I look down at my body and have to
laugh. The way he’s smiling, like the fucking cat who ate the canary, warms me.
I love that he makes me feel that way, and hate it just as much. He’s so
innocent and beautiful and happy to please me. I know I don’t deserve him.
But you look so good it hurts sometimes.
Justin
Brian comes, loud and hard and fast. I know it was good, really good. He’s
panting like a fucking bitch in heat and he has this lazy smile on his face
when it’s over, like I just gave him a fucking present. And I did. But now it’s
his turn to give me one.
As I slide up his body to lie on top of him, I can feel the rough patches all
over his chest and stomach from my drying masterpiece. I kiss him, deeper and
deeper until I can feel his dick stirring again. Mine is still rock fucking
hard and though I think I might come just from touching him right now, I have
another little plan in mind to relieve myself of this particular hard on.
He reaches between us and grabs my dick - he’s ready to get me off. Brian
always reciprocates in kind, so I know he’ll want my orgasm to be really good.
“Let me fuck you.” I whisper quietly into his ear, so that only he can hear
what I’m asking. No one will have to know what he’s agreeing to.
He immediately starts to answer but stops himself. I don’t know if that’s a
good sign or not. Before he has a chance to respond, I sit up and look at his
stomach, tracing the lines that form the words “I love you” on his skin. After
I look at the words, I smile at him. I just smile, nothing else. I won’t push
him or beg him. If he wants me to fuck him then he’ll say yes.
Pulling on the back of my neck he brings my face closer to his. I think he’s
going to kiss me, but his lips bypass mine and head for my ear instead. “Okay…”
he whispers. to me. I think to myself, what a grand secret this is to have.
I’ve tamed a wild beast and no one will ever know, but the satisfaction of
doing it far surpasses my need to share that information with the world.
My stomach tenses in anticipation as I retrieve a condom and lube from the
bedroom. He rolls over onto his stomach, revealing the random paint splatters
smeared on its surface.
I watch his muscles tense as I prepare myself. I lower my body to his and guide
my dick to his hole. Before I enter I lean down, pressing the side of my face
against his and say, “I love you Brian. If you forget just remember that it’s
written all over your body.”
I slide inside in one easy, fluid stroke and let Brian take me to a place that
I can only imagine is better than heaven…
Your body is a wonderland
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