Sebastian's ghost (gay story)

Discussion in 'Fictitious Stories' started by Jack Horner, Oct 15, 2009.

  1. Jack Horner

    Jack Horner New Member

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    Hey guys,
    so this is actually my first time posting. I joined years ago and actually just used the site to get off... Yup, I'm a creeper! Eheh... But anyway, my roommate challenged me to smut off, and I'm not sure at all about mine. I've never written or really read smut... So let me know what you think. I'm afraid it's too sentimental or something... I know hers is going to be really hot.
    The premise that I was starting is that the main character is a pragmatic person who wound up completely in love with this dynamic person who goes in and out of his life like a flash flood. The the dynamic person, Sebastian, is a traveler and dies relatively suddenly, haven't decided if from AIDS or what yet. Main character is consumed by the memory of his lover, and has erotic flashbacks regularly. Haven't decided what to do with the story yet.





    “Always”.


    “You promise?”


    “I promise.”


    My face was wet with our saliva. Sebastian leaned me back onto the bed, unbuttoning my flannel shirt. My memory flashed to a defintion he had told me once. Formication: the sensation of ants crawling over your skin. Something he had thought funny becuase of how closely it sounded to fornication. He had always been the one with a sense of humour, I dull and passive in life by comparison. He lit me up as though I were a stark but well written newpaper and he were a voracious flame, nothing but appetite and raw beauty.
    Formication, I felt now, for his fingers were as light as ants, tender as dogs, passionate as lions and strong as my need to feel him inside of me as he brushed against my collar. His lust for life invited a lust in me to be freed like no other could draw out. With Sebastian, I was as alight as he and my dry, papery life before no more than a memory.
    The heat of his breath on my neck. The graze of his dark stubble. My blood awoke in hisses at the lightest of his touches. We were wolverines, and as our tongues sought to meet, our bodies sought to devour one another in totality.
    He reached behind and up under my shirt and felt the small of my back, making my arch from the tingling sensation as his fingers made their way higher.
    I was so hard it was beginning to hurt pressed against my jean. The stiffness of my ever ready twenty year old cock pressed against the noticeable bulge in his own ever stiffening jeans, rubbing denim against denim. He opened his mouth into a little ‘o’ in ecstasy- he wanted my touch as much as I wanted his.
    I offered a small smile in return for the diamond twinkling in his dark eye and Sebastian’s hand moved further up pulling my left arm out of the shirt. He grabbed hold of my hand, clasping it tightly above my head, his fingers interlocked with mine as closely as our lives. This moment was my life: there was no moment beyond Sebastian heating my body with his in our bed and making me his.
    Blackness filled my window and nothing existed outside this room, except maybe somewhere, more Sebastian- Montreal was gone and we were in another place entirely, where people fought for each other, spoke to unicorns, and could transport one another to the bedroom simply by staring at you with their eyes using the look-words that say ‘fuck me’. My desire was his desire- my want was his duty, my night was his home and my journey was his story.
    His only story, now.
    I winced. My arm was beginning to hurt, but Sebastian held it tighter behind me, lifting his chest for a thirsty breath and diving in more voraciously to my open lips. Inky black hair curtained my vision and our eyes locked. I commanded him again in their secret language, “fuck me”.
    The bedroom blurred like time lapse photography and we were both naked and slick with sweat. Sebastian looked at me with that coy way of his, lifting the corner of his mouth into a coquettish smile as he took spit from his mouth and started jerking his erect dick. He rubbed more saliva against my ass, up and down, sliding it between my ass cheeks slowly. I pushed him up and back onto his knees. His cock would be mine before he breaded my ass with it.
    I salivated before my mouth even reached his pumping tool. I licked the tip, and then swirled my tongue around the head. He had the perfect cock, and I told him so. He laughed a little. Sebastian always was modest. When we first started out, complimenting his body or his performance would throw him off completely.
    I gave him one flat-tongued lap from base to tip, thinning my tongue as I passed over the tight line of skin where his shaft met his head before taking his balls in my mouth.
    His balls were smooth and I sucked them for minutes, my tongue darting out to tickle the base of his cock below them. I gripped his legs as if clutching a support beam on a roller-coaster, the soft down of his hair rough against the palms of my hands. Sebastian’s halting breath was the iron on iron of the cart’s wheels. If we were a roller-coaster ride, it was one of those authentic old wooden ones, the kind you can smell the sweet, cedary musk of care on. Sebastian threw his head back as I came up from his balls to take his cock down my throat. I swallowed it way past my tonsils uncomfortably at first, then readjusted myself so that I took it sideways, an angle from which I could deep-throat it easily, over and over again, always.
    I fucked his whole cock with my throat for several breathless reps, all nine or something inches, before coming up gasping. I had him wetter than a glass of water and leaking pre-cum although he was circumsized. I slid my hand up and down as I licked the top, catching my breath. He was a lot to take.
    I didn’t wait long before diving in again, smothering his member with kisses strokes from my tongue. Sebastian could have been hyperventilating, by the sounds of it. He gripped my sandy hair with his fists and pulled me up off his dick. He might have come, but then the moment that was his life would end, and then it would all end. No, we would be here always.
    I held the back of his head and our lips met again. It was flat- he told me once that all Polish boys have flat heads. Like the landscape of a home I couldn’t remember, had no desire to remember, no memory to know. Flat, like the landscape that should have lay under the stars outside our window, where instead the blackness waited.
    Kissing my neck. Kissing my collarbone. Licking my nipple and biting his way down to my waist, down where he spat on both his cock and mine, erect and pressed hard against each other, his dark and head like a mushroom, mine the same colour as my skin and somewhat smaller. The patch of thick black hair between his legs exuded a heady must and humidity, drawing me in with the same dark contrast as his hair, chest, and eyes. Sebastian looked up at me again; transmuted again was he, again: he was a panther.
    I said something unrecognizable. I was no longer able to understand the language Sebastian and I were speaking when he began to rub his dick against my ass again. It was so much, but I had taken it before. He pushed inside me and my body felt bigger and bigger, like he was making me into a titan with him, and he were mighty Atlas and I were Prometheus, unbound by his love.
    He pulled in and out once before everything went dark, and I felt every groove and vein of his penis inside of me, and I wanted more. I wanted all of him, every part of him, to be physically inside my body in the way the this part of him was able to enter me now. This couldn't be it, I wanted him to make mincemeat out of my hungry hole, fuck me every way imagineable for eight sweet hours. I wanted him to make a sea of sweat and desire of my bed, I wanted him to be a great clap of thunder and a crashing ocean every time he ram my ass with such force and his low hanging balls slapped against my smooth white ass. I wanted to be with him absolutely, he inside me and me inside him, overlapping as though we were the earth and sky at the beginning of the world, but as the world around me shredded into darkness like soaked cereal, I knew the moment was over.
    He was left.


    Sebastian was always left and leaving, for when we was not left, he was leaving, and were he not leaving, he'd already left. I sat up at my kitchen table in my shitty apartment. My face was no longer wet with saliva, but tears.








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