They were kissing; kissing as only two men could, their bodies hard and tight against each other, the pressure of the kiss painful, even punishing. Simon could feel Patrick's arousal in the bulge that nudged against his thigh; knew that Patrick was equally aware of his own erection. Slowly he undressed Patrick, peeling his shirt off tenderly, sliding his trousers and pants down over his hips so that Patrick had just to step out of them. Then, his partner naked, Simon shrugged off his own clothes and pulled Patrick to the floor.
Simon laid his naked body gently over Patrick's, so they were touching from ankle to head. Then slowly, slowly, he began to move. Patrick made a noise, hastily bitten off, as they rubbed against each other. There was no possibility of chafing with both men already slick with sweat. Simon probed gently at Patrick's anus, and this time Patrick made no attempt to hide his groaning need. Simon muttered a spell and his fingers were slippery wet and suggestive.
"Patrick, Patrick!" And Simon's private vows of gentleness were undone in a moment as he passed the point when any logical intent was valid. Patrick panted beneath him, and he could feel his lover thrusting up against him, and...and that was it, the feeling that Patrick could resist this no more than himself. He clenched his fist hard around Patrick's cock as he pushed into him -- once, twice, three, four times, each more deeply than the last -- and as Patrick twitched and came in his hand, Simon felt his own orgasm rip through his lover's body.
Patrick gave a wordless moan, more sensual than any speech, and Simon was jolting uncontrollably, each breath torn from him, his forehead damp on Patrick's shoulder as he retrieved some sense of self. It was over -- it was over, yet Simon thought that somehow it had only just begun.
©2009 by Penelope Friday
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Penelope Friday writes gay, lesbian, heterosexual, and menage erotica. For more information see her Web site.
