vaneramos | White hot

Eramosa River from the bridge at Eden Mills

Under white hillsides crowded with bare, grey maples, a small flock of geese yodelled from a steel pond to a winter sun.

In a high closed room, a single finger of light pushed past the blind.

He bit my nipples and slapped my thighs. Moving lower, he swallowed my erection then started bobbing insistently. I asked him to slow and tease the head. Then he lapped at my balls while I stroked. At the last moment he seized control again, while I bucked and groaned in the pale morning. I subsided with a sigh as he enfolded me. I rubbed my beard in the short hair of his head, marvelling at its softness. I relaxed, but he turned me to rest my tailbone against his belly. Reaching around and grasping my wrists, he forced my hands together as in prayer. His cock squirmed against the hot backs of my thighs, slick with sweat, and pressed upwards.

The sun nudged higher and a white eye peered through the crack, tracing the hairs of our arms with gold and silver. It caught my retina and stared. I squeezed my lids shut, but the point of white fire still blazed through, splitting darkness.