Rite of spring

[vaneramos]

I used to go into his bar sometimes, on afternoons whenever I visited the city, and watch him serve with the grace and quickness of a cat, admire his friendly repartee with patrons. He wasn't classically handsome, but easy on the eyes, nicely put together with a slight beer belly that suited him, boyish face and sweet smile complementing his roughish rocker garb. I used to wonder what it would be like to get close to a man like that, so much younger and different from me.

Eventually his older, bolder partner provided the catalyst, but that story is complicated, and they have since split up. I still see him sometimes when life allows, probably less often than either of us wish.

This time he is more anxious to get me alone, home and upstairs. He lives consciously in a culture teetering on the brink of addiction. Most of the other times we've gotten together I've been drunk or high, but this time I'm clearer. He craves someone to love him fiercely and protectively, but isn't quite over the last one, whom he still lives with. Beneath the rocker exterior he is tender and affectionate. I measure the depths with kisses and strong embraces before moving to different body arrangements.

Many men have trouble taking my girth, and I'm afraid of hurting, usually disinclined to fuck. On the other hand I am happy to get fucked, well aware of what I can handle. He has fucked me once before in a flash of inspiration, so the question of how this night will turn out holds mystique for both of us. He has spent the day preparing himself to receive me, and I'm turned on by the idea so I offer to let him ride me (this is usually the best way to start). He is eager. Basking in his pleasure, I enjoy the few minutes he spends taking me into him. Then we're connected, rocking, bending and kissing, moving together.

I roll him on his back. My erection starts to balk at this position of power, but soon finds a reinforcing rhythm. I spare him nothing, filling him with long, slow thrusts.

"I'm going to come quickly if you keep that up," he warns.

But that's what I want, he is so lovely in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. We both bring an essential shyness to this playing field, so our eyes only meet briefly, but warmly, a flicker of gentle camaraderie. His are brown. His chest hair is like a painting. I play with his pierced nipples.

"Squeeze them harder," he says.

With me deep inside, he soon shoots all over himself. His beauty is all I need at that moment, so I lower my weight gently onto him and hold him tightly.

I awake late morning to the sound of rain drumming on the roof. It reminds me of the cottage, so I let it take me there, to a Sunday morning with nothing to do or worry about. I roll on my side to watch him sleeping, all buried in blankets except for one foot and the top of his face, the ring in his eyebrow. I savour his nearness and manliness for a half hour or so.

Finally I have to slip to the bathroom, and when I sneak back, he stirs and rolls his face into my shoulder like a child for a few minutes. Then he turns to let me spoon him. He has an unusual, adorable cluster of fur below the nape of his neck. I press my lips there.

He drifts back to sleep in my arms, snoring softly. My erection waxes and wanes comfortably against the small of his back. For the next 20 minutes, I embrace spring, soaking as much of his youth into me as I can hold until next time.

Comments

[wonderboynj.livejournal.com]

This brought back some nice memories, thank you :)

xoxo

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Always pleased to evoke.
Hugs,
Van

[eloquentwthrage.livejournal.com]

Such a romantic...

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I'm afraid so, although I'm probably better at expressing it in writing.

[vaysha.livejournal.com]

so beautifully written Van, romantic and idyllic.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I always think of you when I post about sex here, knowing that you'll appreciate my way of expressing. Thank you.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

[art-thirst.livejournal.com]

Mercy. That was enjoyable. I like the way you put words together. :-)

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I suppose one of my life's chief pleasures—almost as good as memorable sex itself—is putting these sublime moments into words. This weekend I happened to meet an ex, who I am still fond of, and he suggested I could try writing porn. However, it's doubtful I would much enjoy making these stories up. I don't mind using a little artistic license, but prefer to base sex stories in reality.

I'm also aware that you (among others) appreciate these writings, which encourages me to share them.

If my libido continues its trend these stories seem destined to become rarer, but who's to say they won't also get better?

[bearfinch.livejournal.com]

Beautiful. It puts me in mind a bit of that afternoon we spent together last spring... *grin*

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Thank you. How time has flown!

[osodecanela.livejournal.com]

Van, thank you for the gift of sharing the beauty of this tryst, in words that I think do the experience justice.

A rite of Spring? Of course! No surprise as Beltane nears. The glory of bringing your partner to explosion, followed by savoring him as he sleeps trustingly, in your arms. Sheer carnal beauty.

I envy his good fortune.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

A rite of spring, also because I can feel how the shift in my own chemistry roused me to bring about this liaison, after a relatively dry sexual period. I have no doubt my testosterone level is linked to other seasonal changes. I might not mark Beltane religiously, but feel it in my blood.

[osodecanela.livejournal.com]

And to feel it in your blood and act upon it, is to take the carnal to the spiritual. To sate that other person, and craddle them thereafter is to see a part of that of the Divine in another. That is the spiritual side of Beltane.

[twillhead.livejournal.com]

Holy cow... this was a wonderful entry, but certainly one I should have avoided at work! I am keeping very close to my desk for the next several minutes until the swelling goes down! ;-) Thanks for sharing this beautifully written, intimate moment.