It’s been a rushed few months for me. The holidays usually are. Between work, cramming for tests, and rushing to get a short story published by Christmas it has been a busy few months. So I wanted to drop in to say I haven’t forgotten about you few loyal readers who grace my little blog, and wanted to leave you something that will leave you feeling full until next month when I give you a little snippet of my new short story. Until then, happy holidays!
Face to Face
R. F. Lange
Is there a better way for two men to bond?
Face to face, sitting in two opposite chairs so close our splayed knees touch, our hairy male genitals on display for the other to see?
I can feel you examining my maleness and I chance a look between your legs, too. What I see shoots straight to my already erect penis and makes me masturbate faster. You are already hard, your thick column of vascular flesh with its pronounced mushroom cap leaking fluids like honey from a comb. Your testes hang like ripened fruits that bounce against the ring of your hairy anus with each stroke of your pumping fist.
Another part of your anatomy that fuels my cock.
I lean forward and stroke the puckered flesh beneath your balls with a single finger. You say nothing even as that private patch of male flesh responds to my touch. You are the man I’ve ever felt comfortable to touch this way, yet another way for us to bond.
I am suddenly kneeling in front of you. I don’t remember moving, and yet there I am, eyes transfixed on your penis as I stimulate the most intimate part of your body. My face is so close I can smell the male musk clinging to you. I know you are watching me, eyes riveted, awaiting my next move. You know what I want, what I need when we are together like this—separated from the rest of the world by a slab of wood and a deadbolt. You are always willing to accommodate those private urges of mine. As if anticipating them, your legs spread and I watch as your male trench opens to give me more intimate access to you.
There is something about the secrecy of our relationship, the closeness of it all that makes me feel closer to you than any other person in my life, including my wife. Ours is a bond that surpasses most peoples’ understanding, which is why it remains between just us to. Two heterosexual men lost in each other, celebrating male need. It is the reason I say little and do so much, my friend…because what I need is you.
I feel the shudder that races through your body when my nose teases your sphincter. My tongue darts out to taste you, stroking wet bursts of pleasure into you anus. Your fist, like my own pumping hand, never stops stroking as you watch me lick your clean hole from the inside out, giving it deep, wet kisses like it’s your mouth.
You say nothing when you feel my pronounced tip at your tight opening. You understand what I need. You need it too. For you, your anus acts as another sexual organ to be stimulated, much the way you are stimulating your cock now. I still remember the way you drenched us in male fluids the first night our bodies locked together, coming without ever touching yourself as my penis stroked you from the inside out. You still get that same look on your face whenever I am about to penetrate you. Your eyes lose focus. Your mouth grows slack. It’s as if your entire consciousness is consumed by the maleness filling your body.
You tense when I press myself into you, my engorged head stretching the ring of your anus around its pronounced ridge, making your own penis spit up a fresh puddle of fluid on the flat of your belly. I lean forward, tongue dipping into your shallow navel to taste the salty syrup I’ve just caused you to produce. Your taste surges through me, makes me throb inside of you.
My face looms over yours and I dip my tongue between your sweet, cherry lips, offering you a taste of your own body.
It is all so very…natural.
I feel you relax beneath my masculine weight and I gather you in my strong arms, easing myself into you inch by agonizing, erect inch until all you can feel is the fullness inside you. Your legs—so strong, so masculine—wrap around my waist as if you cannot fathom the idea of my sex ever leaving your body. I feel your heartbeat against my chest as if it was my own heart pounding out my need. Our eyes meet and I cannot help but kiss you again, invading your lips, suckling your wet tongue, tasting you. No female has ever kissed me with so much passion.
You moan into my mouth as our hips begin to rock in tandem with one another. Your hole is so wet, like a woman’s cunt, stroking smoothly up and down my thick shaft. I pull away from our male kiss to look into your eyes…that beautiful face.
You have barely touched yourself since I entered you, and yet your cock feels wet as it wedges between our sweaty bodies. Your hole flexes like a puckered little mouth sucking at me.
You are close.
You don’t have to say it. In fact, we exchange precious few words when we are together this way. It’s as if our proximity to one another speaks the volumes we never feel like we can say out loud. But I know you and you know me and our bodies just respond to each other. I can feel the muscle in your thighs trembling as they clamp around my waist, pulling me deeper inside of you. My big hands slip to the small of your back as it arches off the chair, my cock stroking sharp breaths from your lips that lick at my face like the heat of a fire.
You come without touching yourself, flooding our chests with your warm seed. Your hole twitches and convulses around my cock as you begin slamming it around me, milking me, throwing me over the edge. My mouth crushes to yours, pulling your bottom lip between my teeth as an animalistic growl erupts from my throat. My cock swells and pulses inside you, your hole working each spurt of my semen out of me and into you.
We lay there a long while in sweat and cum, the hairy erection still locked inside you unwilling to let you go. You stroke my back softly, kissing my shoulder, rocking yourself gently back and forth on me.
I love you.
We never say it, at least not out loud, but I know we both feel it. How could we not? My lips close over yours, pulling you into my mouth again, feeling the way your anus responds around my cock. I have to go but I don’t want to. Not yet. Life could wait as long as we were locked within these four walls.
“One more time?” you breathe, the words hot against my face.
You look utterly spent, and yet I recognize that need in your eyes. I smile, kissing you roughly as I feel your fingers curl into the mounds of my ass, and I begin to stimulate myself all over again with your male body.
Is there any other way to bond?