11. The Perfect Moment #5
I can hear him grunting, thrusting. Then one prolonged thrust, and another, way deep into my guts, his, my muscles tensing.
Then one prolonged thrust, longer, deeper than those before, and the release.
Flooding into me. The warmth of it spreading through me.
Surrendering to it. Surrendering to the moment.
Me, surrendering to him. Body and soul, surrendering, yielding myself to him.
And I can feel him yielding, surrendering to what was happening between us, the very essence of himself being transferred from him to me.
I feel it. His living matter. Deep within my belly.
A fusion of himself with myself, radiating through me, then flipping, positive for negative, negative for positive, in cosmic wave after cosmic wave.
A shudder, surging through both of us.
Then him, expelling his breath, muscle after muscle relaxing, his whole being dispelling the last of its energies.
“Holy fuck,” he said, “Ho-ly fuck!”
“Ho-ly fuck!” I repeated after him.
We were wrapped around each other, legs intertwined with legs, arms holding us together, belly to belly. Him in my belly.
“Holy fuck,” he said again, “Ho-ly fuck!”
And I repeated after him, “Ho-ly fuck!”
Him in me. The whole length and breadth of him.
And for how much it might have started out hurting, out of the pain, pleasure.
Pure, undeniable pleasure. And deep inside, way deep inside my primal folds, accepting the living matter he had shot into me, the his essential self, him within me.
And knowing it was there. Holy fuck. Joy, indescribable joy. Ecstasy.
Then his lips are on mine, pressing him to me, holding him to me.
When we broke, he was looking into my eyes, me into his, wordless.
Between our bellies, I was hard. Hurting hard. With a load wanting somewhere to go.
He burrowed his hand between us, and took hold of it. “Mmmm,” I reacted.
“You’re close?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s not going to take much.”
“I want it,” he said. He reared back. Again the searing pain, his withdrawal the reverse of his penetration.
Like he was stretching me beyond what I could endure as he withdrew.
‘Easy’, I thought, ‘easy’. Then, just as I felt I could take it no more, and wanting him to stop where he was, he was out of me. I felt suddenly empty, a void.
But high up, deep in my guts, warm still, him still, there.
He flipped onto his back. He reached up and spat in his hand, then worked it between his legs.
“You,” he said, holding out his hand to my mouth. I spat a wad into in, and he brought it down to between his legs.
My asshole still pulsing from him pulling out of me, I reached between his legs and found his asshole, now wet, and fingered it.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Whew,” he said.
“Tender,” I asked.
“You better believe it!”
“You’re sure you want this?
He flung his arms around me, pulled me in tight, and said, “If it kills me!”
I spat a wad in my hand and lathered it between his legs. He twitched every time I hit his asshole. I spat another wad, and spread it around my dick, praying, ‘Not yet. Not yet.’
“Okay, look at me,” I said.
“Whaat?”
“I want to be looking at you, and I want you to be looking at me.”
I touched my cock to his hole. I saw flickers of hurt, then anticipation, then wincing to the hurt when I pushed against it.
He sucked in a deep breath, holding it, then another. Eyes opening wide, surrendering to the hurting, when I entered him.
“Just keep it there,” he said. I did. And I could feel his ring of muscle striving to open and pull me in. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, I was coming into him. More and more. Still more. And then I felt the sphincter to his anus, now familiar.
“Oh, man, you’re big,” he said, “So fucking big.”
“That the way you like it?” I teased, “Big?”
” Yeah. You,” he said, “Oh, yeah.”
We were working now to penetrate his rectum. Another deep breath. Then opening. Then penetration. Long. Slow. Tortured. Until, “there,” he said, “just keep it there. I want to feel what it is like there.”
We lay together, treasuring our intimacy.
Then I slowly began thrusting. And slowly increasing the intensity.
Then I pulled back, and thrust again, going deep.
Pulled back, and going deep again, I hit his prostate.
Chaos. The muscles in his belly jerking, abs in full flexion.
His hips bucking, slamming up into mine.
I pulled back, thrust, and hit it again. Again chaos. Pushing to expel me, and the same time they were pulling me further and further into him.
His mouth now on my mouth. Hungry, Greedy.
His tongue working mine. His hips thrusting up into my pelvis, my pelvis responding to grind into his hips, driving me deeper into him.
Then, quick, strong thrusts. Out of control, driving, hard.
Hard. And harder. We were close to the point of no return and getting closer.
“Grab my dick,” he said. “I want to come with you.”
Between our bellies he was rock hard. I grabbed onto it. Now he was arching his back as he drove his hips up to me. I was driving my dick just as hard.
Then, at the last second, I said, “Look at me.” I was exploding into him, my loins shooting into his.
In his eyes, a sudden look of surprise, then wider and wider, and a look of sheer pleasure and of satisfaction, deep, deep, within him.
The essence of my being, from deep within me, to deep within him.
Then, knowing I was filling him, again it was like he was filling me, every cell in my body jangling.
Heady. Like the moment between lifter and spotter, when mind and muscle triumph over gravity, the metal at full extension with the last expenditure of energy before exhaustion.
Or, crossing the finish line, touching the tile, breaking out of the water, victory and hearing the roar of the crowd.
Yes. Then the burn, spreading from head to toe. Vital. Alive.
“Mmmmm,” he was saying. He brought his legs up to wrap around me, holding me in him. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me, feeling every one of his muscles that I was filling. Bliss. This was pure bliss.
“This is good. This is too good,” I kept saying to myself.
“Mmmmm, mmmm,” I could hear him moaning. Not in hurt. Pleasure. Pure pleasure.
“Holy fuck,” I heard him say. “Too fucking much. Too fucking much.”
We held each other, body to body, sensing, muscle into muscle, sinew into sinew, soul into soul, our bodies, our selves, melding into each other. Ecstasy. Rapture.
Then, coming down, neither of us moving, neither of us saying anything, still in the moment.
Until, untangling, arms and legs, stretching out, continuing to savour what had happened between us. The afterglow. Warm, intimate, sublime. Him stretched out beside me. Me stretched out beside him. Somewhere in space, way out beyond the stratosphere.
We lay there for a long time, saying nothing, feeling each other’s presence.
He began nuzzling my ear. It felt good. Then he lifted his nose and lips away and asked, “So, mate, what do you say for yourself?
“Mmmmm. Mmmm. What do I say for myself? … Fucked,” I said, “Fucked and fucked good. Buggered. Had. Spent. Done. Two up, three down. Knackered. You?”
“That pretty well covers it,” he chuckled. “Fucked. Well and truly fucked.”
We continued to lay there. My shoulder touching his.
His thigh against my thigh. I put my head on his chest. Muscled, strangely familiar, now strangely new against my cheek.
Sweaty, his scent tantalizing, musky, slightly pungent, manly, him.
I could feel the rise and fall of his chest. My breathing was coming into sync with his.
And in his chest, I could feel and hear his heart beating.
And my heartbeat likewise coming into sync with his.
He said nothing, and I said nothing.
Then he asked, “You cool?”
“I’m cool,” I replied.
I put my hand on his belly. Deep inside him, I knew that I, what of myself that I had ejaculated into him, was there. Then I put my hand to my belly, knowing that deep inside what he had ejaculated of himself into me was there.
I felt his arm now under my shoulder, cradling me, his hand on my head, fingers running through my hair.
It all felt good. Right, somehow.
I heard him say, “I kinda think we’ve let a genie out of the bottle.”
‘I kinda think we have,’ I replied, ‘And I kinda think there sure ain’t no putting him back.’
My hand was on his belly. It was sticky with what he had ejaculated, and what was on his belly was liquefying.
I began rubbing my hand in it, then round his belly, his abs, feeling them firm, then up and around his pecs, likewise firm, his shoulders, likewise hard to my touch.
Then he rubbed his belly, and likewise rubbed mine, my chest and shoulders.
Then he took my hand and licked my fingers, and continued holding my fingers to his mouth.
We laid there, content, my hand on his belly.
And then I was asleep.
Waking, I was aware of daylight. I heard him come out of the bathroom and opened my eyes.
There he was, standing, his ass to me. His ass, his back, shoulders, thighs, legs, all beautiful muscle, alive.
He turned. Magnificent. Beautiful. Chest, abs, belly.
Ripped and cut, clean-shaven head to toe.
The bodybuilder. The full monte. His cock, long, thick, veined, the ripe chestnut of the head just emerging from his foreskin, more than magnificent.
Him and that cock I had seen how many times in the showers at the gym, but it was like I was seeing it like I had never seen it before. And remembering where it had so recently been. And me sucking it. And wanting it.
‘Once you’ve tasted cock …,’ somebody, somewhere had said …
Twenty four hours ago, hell, twelve hours ago, no way, not in a million years … Now my guts were in revolt from last night’s pounding, and I am thinking it’s gotta happen again, and sooner rather than later.