[Continuing on from "Epiphany"]
My resolve to lighten up a little - go with the flow and drift for a while - had led me to Steve's place and the most unusual orgasm I had ever experienced.
Never before had I experienced sex without moving at all. Even on the receiving end of a blow-job, I still do a bit of thrusting and squirming around. Even with the lady on top, I still thrust upwards to meet her as she thrusts downward. Today, however, flat on my back and with my cock lodged inside him to its hilt, Steve virtually hypnotised me into lying perfectly still. I lay there and felt each ripple inside him, every rhythmic squeeze of his sphincter. I could almost sense his heartbeat against the head of my cock. And, when Steve finally erupted all over me, his tight contractions were as insistent as any milking machine. Without once having moved, I felt my cock twitch, nod and then deliver an exquisite torrent of cum.
After disengaging, Steve lay beside me and swirled his left index finger through the flecks of cum on my chest, neck and face. Even though I felt as though I'd just completed a marathon, my breathing was even and I wore no sheen of perspiration. My heartbeat seemed normal too. And yet I was enervated, drained beyond belief. Steve was also breathing normally and seemed unnaturally calm, tranquil ... almost serene. When at last I spoke, it was as if I had never in my life spoken before - I was surprised that I could make sounds at all.
"What the hell happened there?" I asked. "That was bloody amazing!"
"Shh" Steve said, and placed his cum-sticky forefinger against my lips. I obeyed and lay there while he used a nearby pair of underpants to wipe away the cum-splashes with which he had decorated me. He nestled into me, head under my chin and resting on my chest, and began to speak of meditation, Tantric sex and mesmerism.
I know I claim to be a good listener, but I must admit that certain subjects lead me to press a mute button in my head. I neither drink nor smoke and I exercise regularly, but I have some inbuilt disdain for a great many things that strike me as faddish. At the mere mention of things like yoga, vegetarianism, meditation, transcendentalism, egg-white omelettes, diet plans and mantras, I simply go to another place because my mind refuses to entertain any more health options than the ones already lodged there. I can't fit anything more into my head - I've endured enough, coped with enough and accommodated as much as I can stand. I am not interested in hopping on the latest bandwagon, no matter how many benefits it allegedly delivers. It's like playing Scrabble for twenty years and then, suddenly, all the rules are changed. I like Scrabble the way it is. I even like my life the way it is - well, more or less - and I'm not about to reconfigure my wiring to embrace egg-white omelettes or transcendentalism at this late stage.
So I drifted off while Steve spoke. He eventually realised that my silence was not due to rapt attention. He lifted his head, saw the glaze across my eyeballs and laughingly accused me of not having heard a word he'd said. And he was right. I apologised and confessed that Tantric sex was way beyond my ken, way beyond the bounds of my blinkered outlook on life. He was not offended but looked amused at what he obviously perceives to be naivety on my part.
"Did you happen to notice anything different?" Steve asked.
"No, of course not" I replied. "I can cum without moving almost any time I feel like it! Of course I noticed a difference. That was the most incredible sensation. That squeezing, that keeping perfectly still was
absolutely mind-blowing."
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it" he said. "I did too, but that's not what I meant. You don't seem to have noticed that we didn't use a condom."
Now that did give me pause. Even our hasty coupling earlier in the week had been done "safely". Now I was lying alongside an ex-drug addict, an ex-rent boy who'd been so desperate for money that he'd had unprotected sex with the punters, and we had just screwed each other bare-back! My future flashed before me. I saw myself a miserable bag of bones, covered in sores and rotting away in some joyless hospice, unloved and unlovable.
"I'm teasing you" Steve said, and he rose to fetch an envelope from his dresser drawer. He handed it to me to read. Inside were pathology results dated just one week ago. They confirmed that Steve does not have hepatitis, syphilis or gonorrhoea. Nor is he HIV positive. The tests covered the entire spectrum really. To my surprise, even his liver function test results are okay. To my chagrin, his cholesterol levels are not merely good; they are marginally better than my own! I had fleeting thoughts of re-examining my views on vegetarianism.
"What prompted you to do this?" I asked, handing the papers back to him.
"Because I love you and I trust you and I want you to love and trust me. I've felt like this for weeks now and I wanted you to know that caution is not necessary with me. There is no one else. Every time we use a condom I feel desolate because I want to have your cum inside me. That's why I got a new set of tests done. I wanted you to have up-to-date results."
I was deeply humbled by this. Not just the effort he'd made to give me medical re-assurance, though that was humbling enough. What affected me more were the words "I love you". I had not heard those words from anyone other than my own children for more than eight years. As for the words "I trust you" - they made me appreciate how arrogant it is to simply assume that others believe you to be trustworthy. I had to confess to myself that I move through this world taking it for granted that people will trust me.
We were back in each other's arms again and I felt I needed to say something about my own feelings. As I went to speak, however, Steve again placed a finger to my lips and told me he didn't want me to say anything until the time was right; and by right he meant a time of my own choosing, a time when I was clearer about my feelings - not a time when I might feel obliged to prevaricate in order to spare his feelings. I could not argue with this so I simply drew him closer and kissed him tenderly.
"I'm supposed to be providing lunch" Steve murmured.
"Stuff lunch" I replied, moving down the length of his body. "I'm just going to nibble on you for a while."
Although I have always enjoyed going down on a woman and exploring every nook and cranny both inside and out, only once before have I done so with a guy. Today it felt right and, after some prolonged sucking and tonguing, Steve got up on all fours and I fucked his saliva-drenched arse doggy-style. There was no subtlety. This was a deep and vigorous coupling and I could almost hear the wind whistle each time I withdrew completely and then plunged into Steve again; I could hear my balls slapping against his thighs; and there was sweat and there was panting and there was moaning as, once again, I enjoyed the exquisite sensation of juices spurting out of me and into his innermost recesses.
We never did have lunch. We sauntered through the rest of the afternoon, with more intimate chat and one more lingering farewell fuck. Then I showered and rushed to pick the kids up on time.
As usual, I asked my son and daughter how their day had been. As usual it didn't occur to them to ask how my day had been. Just as well, really. I had no desire to make my day sound as ho-hum as any other respectable Dad's day. But I smiled as I drove home and told myself that I am still a respectable Dad - one who is allowing himself to drift for a while and just go with the flow.
It's late now and I sit here feeling smooth and light and beautiful. Tonight I am driftwood - I am no longer the gnarled and scuffed branch that was carried out to sea. I am now happy with the waters that shaped me and carried me to an unexpected shore.
My resolve to lighten up a little - go with the flow and drift for a while - had led me to Steve's place and the most unusual orgasm I had ever experienced.
Never before had I experienced sex without moving at all. Even on the receiving end of a blow-job, I still do a bit of thrusting and squirming around. Even with the lady on top, I still thrust upwards to meet her as she thrusts downward. Today, however, flat on my back and with my cock lodged inside him to its hilt, Steve virtually hypnotised me into lying perfectly still. I lay there and felt each ripple inside him, every rhythmic squeeze of his sphincter. I could almost sense his heartbeat against the head of my cock. And, when Steve finally erupted all over me, his tight contractions were as insistent as any milking machine. Without once having moved, I felt my cock twitch, nod and then deliver an exquisite torrent of cum.
After disengaging, Steve lay beside me and swirled his left index finger through the flecks of cum on my chest, neck and face. Even though I felt as though I'd just completed a marathon, my breathing was even and I wore no sheen of perspiration. My heartbeat seemed normal too. And yet I was enervated, drained beyond belief. Steve was also breathing normally and seemed unnaturally calm, tranquil ... almost serene. When at last I spoke, it was as if I had never in my life spoken before - I was surprised that I could make sounds at all.
"What the hell happened there?" I asked. "That was bloody amazing!"
"Shh" Steve said, and placed his cum-sticky forefinger against my lips. I obeyed and lay there while he used a nearby pair of underpants to wipe away the cum-splashes with which he had decorated me. He nestled into me, head under my chin and resting on my chest, and began to speak of meditation, Tantric sex and mesmerism.
I know I claim to be a good listener, but I must admit that certain subjects lead me to press a mute button in my head. I neither drink nor smoke and I exercise regularly, but I have some inbuilt disdain for a great many things that strike me as faddish. At the mere mention of things like yoga, vegetarianism, meditation, transcendentalism, egg-white omelettes, diet plans and mantras, I simply go to another place because my mind refuses to entertain any more health options than the ones already lodged there. I can't fit anything more into my head - I've endured enough, coped with enough and accommodated as much as I can stand. I am not interested in hopping on the latest bandwagon, no matter how many benefits it allegedly delivers. It's like playing Scrabble for twenty years and then, suddenly, all the rules are changed. I like Scrabble the way it is. I even like my life the way it is - well, more or less - and I'm not about to reconfigure my wiring to embrace egg-white omelettes or transcendentalism at this late stage.
So I drifted off while Steve spoke. He eventually realised that my silence was not due to rapt attention. He lifted his head, saw the glaze across my eyeballs and laughingly accused me of not having heard a word he'd said. And he was right. I apologised and confessed that Tantric sex was way beyond my ken, way beyond the bounds of my blinkered outlook on life. He was not offended but looked amused at what he obviously perceives to be naivety on my part.
"Did you happen to notice anything different?" Steve asked.
"No, of course not" I replied. "I can cum without moving almost any time I feel like it! Of course I noticed a difference. That was the most incredible sensation. That squeezing, that keeping perfectly still was
absolutely mind-blowing."
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it" he said. "I did too, but that's not what I meant. You don't seem to have noticed that we didn't use a condom."
Now that did give me pause. Even our hasty coupling earlier in the week had been done "safely". Now I was lying alongside an ex-drug addict, an ex-rent boy who'd been so desperate for money that he'd had unprotected sex with the punters, and we had just screwed each other bare-back! My future flashed before me. I saw myself a miserable bag of bones, covered in sores and rotting away in some joyless hospice, unloved and unlovable.
"I'm teasing you" Steve said, and he rose to fetch an envelope from his dresser drawer. He handed it to me to read. Inside were pathology results dated just one week ago. They confirmed that Steve does not have hepatitis, syphilis or gonorrhoea. Nor is he HIV positive. The tests covered the entire spectrum really. To my surprise, even his liver function test results are okay. To my chagrin, his cholesterol levels are not merely good; they are marginally better than my own! I had fleeting thoughts of re-examining my views on vegetarianism.
"What prompted you to do this?" I asked, handing the papers back to him.
"Because I love you and I trust you and I want you to love and trust me. I've felt like this for weeks now and I wanted you to know that caution is not necessary with me. There is no one else. Every time we use a condom I feel desolate because I want to have your cum inside me. That's why I got a new set of tests done. I wanted you to have up-to-date results."
I was deeply humbled by this. Not just the effort he'd made to give me medical re-assurance, though that was humbling enough. What affected me more were the words "I love you". I had not heard those words from anyone other than my own children for more than eight years. As for the words "I trust you" - they made me appreciate how arrogant it is to simply assume that others believe you to be trustworthy. I had to confess to myself that I move through this world taking it for granted that people will trust me.
We were back in each other's arms again and I felt I needed to say something about my own feelings. As I went to speak, however, Steve again placed a finger to my lips and told me he didn't want me to say anything until the time was right; and by right he meant a time of my own choosing, a time when I was clearer about my feelings - not a time when I might feel obliged to prevaricate in order to spare his feelings. I could not argue with this so I simply drew him closer and kissed him tenderly.
"I'm supposed to be providing lunch" Steve murmured.
"Stuff lunch" I replied, moving down the length of his body. "I'm just going to nibble on you for a while."
Although I have always enjoyed going down on a woman and exploring every nook and cranny both inside and out, only once before have I done so with a guy. Today it felt right and, after some prolonged sucking and tonguing, Steve got up on all fours and I fucked his saliva-drenched arse doggy-style. There was no subtlety. This was a deep and vigorous coupling and I could almost hear the wind whistle each time I withdrew completely and then plunged into Steve again; I could hear my balls slapping against his thighs; and there was sweat and there was panting and there was moaning as, once again, I enjoyed the exquisite sensation of juices spurting out of me and into his innermost recesses.
We never did have lunch. We sauntered through the rest of the afternoon, with more intimate chat and one more lingering farewell fuck. Then I showered and rushed to pick the kids up on time.
As usual, I asked my son and daughter how their day had been. As usual it didn't occur to them to ask how my day had been. Just as well, really. I had no desire to make my day sound as ho-hum as any other respectable Dad's day. But I smiled as I drove home and told myself that I am still a respectable Dad - one who is allowing himself to drift for a while and just go with the flow.
It's late now and I sit here feeling smooth and light and beautiful. Tonight I am driftwood - I am no longer the gnarled and scuffed branch that was carried out to sea. I am now happy with the waters that shaped me and carried me to an unexpected shore.