Date: Tue, 26 Nov 2013 00:11:13 -0600
From: Tradd St. Croix <liferaftorshark@hotmail.com>
Subject: LIFE RAFT OR SHARK

LIFE RAFT OR SHARK

DISCLAIMERS, CONTEXT, AND GOAL:

This story involves sex between two consenting male adults. If you are not
at least 18 years of age or if this material is illegal where you live; do
not proceed. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people
is coincidental and unintentional. The author reserves all rights to this
content. This story involves unprotected sex between HIV positive men who
are mutually aware of their status. The author in no way advocates any
practice that might endanger your health. The story is meant to get you
off, but it is also meant to explore the dynamic between identity and
desire and how both are complicated when HIV is thrown in the mix. The
story neither glamorizes nor condemns HIV infection, but rather treats it
as a fact of life. Society often sweeps HIV under the rug, and to a certain
degree erotica has as well. This is demonstrated by how few stories weave
it into the plot in any sort of meaningful way. One of the goals of this
story is to demonstrate that people with HIV are not outside the realm of
erotica. Enjoy, and feel free to send your comments.


PART 1: ONE THING IN COMMON


A week ago, I went out to dinner with my neighbor Kirk. Against all odds we
were seated at a table right next to Kirk's brother James and their
parents. James was no stranger to me. I had met him several times before at
parties over at Kirk's house. But I hadn't seen him in a while, and I did a
double take when I saw him that night. He had packed on some major muscle,
but the biggest change was his new, full, neatly trimmed blonde beard. He
had started buzzing his hair so it was actually shorter than the
beard. Somehow the combination with his tan skin and blue eyes just turned
my crank. He looked good and the picture of health. We pushed our tables
together. James was at the other end, so we didn't get to talk too much.
When he and the parents got up to leave, he bypassed my outstretched hand
and reached around to give me a hug. He whispered, "Hey, let's get together
for lunch sometime." I immediately agreed.

Last year I found out I was positive. Shortly after absorbing the news, I
told Kirk one night when we were out having a drink. Kirk shared with me
that his little brother James was poz as well. I was a bit shocked because
I had always assumed James was straight. Had I known otherwise, I would
have pressed for a setup. Kirk saw the wheels turning in my head and added,
"And he's straight. So it makes dating very difficult." I didn't say
anything, but I was like, "No shit!" Being poz is no walk in the park, but
at least in the gay world there is a lot of company. Kirk saw the doubt on
my face about the poz "straight" brother and gave me the whole story. I was
sharing my situation, so he opened up about how HIV had affected his
family. As the story goes, James caught it while he was in the Marine Corps
from some hooker while he was overseas. I guess that's believable. Foreign
hookers are not the most regulated industry in the world. I didn't even
know James had been in the military. Kirk told me he was busted for pot and
was dishonorably discharged. When he got out, he didn't know he had it.
Sometime later, he ended up in the hospital, and by the time they thought
to run an HIV test on a white, straight, former Marine, his T cells were
down to single digits, and he was on the verge of death. He was brought
back from the brink, and the last I knew he had a girlfriend, she knew his
status, and it was working out fine.

On the way home from dinner, I asked Kirk how James was doing health-wise.
He said it was up and down. You don't get that far gone and just bounce
back without complications. I asked how the girlfriend was dealing with it
and was told she had left the scene a while back. So James was single,
looking hot, momentarily healthy, and wanting to go to lunch...with me.

A few days later, my phone rang, and it was James. I guess he got my number
from his brother. As he suggested, we set up lunch for Wednesday. I was 42.
He was 30. I was gay. He was straight. I had two degrees and a prestigious
job. He was an unemployed Marine Corps dropout. Besides knowing his
brother, the one thing we had in common was HIV. Even our HIV experiences
couldn't have been any more different. My mind ran wild, and I had to keep
my thoughts in check.

When I arrived at the restaurant, he was already seated and drinking a
beer. I was in a suit and had just come from work. Booze was off the menu
for me. I could tell he was nervous. As the conversation progressed, it
became apparent that behind the carefree smile and fun-loving demeanor,
James was profoundly unhappy. We shared our stories about our commonality.
As I suspected, the real story never involved a hooker. The truth involved
hunky Marines that had a taste for blonde furry ass; James' in particular.
The part about being discharged for pot was true. When he was sick in the
hospital, he never really thought about the possibility of his military
flings having any connection to his illness. After his discharge, he had
gone back to sex with women and just wrote off the sex with guys as boys
being boys when pussy was not around. He said he enjoyed the sex with
Marines and that it was actually a bonding sort of thing. But he never
thought of it as something that defined him. He just saw it as convenient
to the circumstances at hand.

He still saw himself as straight, but said he had not had unprotected sex
or a decent blow job since his diagnosis. He said chicks were totally
freaked out by this. He had had just one relationship, and she eventually
grew weary of the stress of catching it and dumped him. Mostly, I just
listened. My heart broke for him, but my dick was having a totally
different reaction.


PART 2: MORE THAN JUST NAKED


We agreed to meet at his place after I finished work. I went to the copier
to pick up the MapQuest directions, said goodbye to my staff, and slipped
out of the office as close to 5:00 as I could get away with. His place
wasn't hard to find, and it was all I could do to not run up the stairs to
knock on the door. He opened the door in long white nylon basketball shorts
and from what I could tell nothing else. The blonde coat of chest hair
nearly sent me over the edge before I even crossed the threshold. He
offered me a beer, but I declined assuring him I would take him up on the
offer later. He seemed relieved to have avoided a potential delay and was
clearly in no mood for small talk. "So what should we do first?" I replied
that I needed a shower and suggested we start there. He turned towards what
I assumed was the way to the bathroom, and I followed like a lemming in
heat. He reached into the shower and cranked the water. He locked eyes with
me and with the flip of two thumbs dropped his shorts to the floor in one
swift move. Needing no further provocation, I removed my tie and unbuttoned
my shirt in record time. He stood still and silent; never taking his eyes
off me. It was obvious he was on display, and he didn't seem the least bit
disturbed by his exposed condition. My efforts to equalize the situation
must have pleased him because his dick was swelling at a rapid rate. By the
time my socks were off, we were both rock hard.

We were more than just naked. Our clothes were gone. Secrets were gone.
Guilt about the disease we shared was gone. Obligations for love,
commitment, or really anything else were totally stripped away. It was a
sensation of freedom one rarely experiences. All we had was this moment,
our bodies, our pleasure, our mutual ability to just suck and fuck. No
fear, no condom, no requirement for explanation or justification.

He was a sight to behold. I had seen glimpses of his body hair before. Arm
hair, facial hair, chest hair coming out of his shirt, his exposed chest at
the door, but seeing the whole package all at once was beautiful. It was
that dark blonde that is brown enough to stand out, but just light enough
that it glistens in the light. I reached out fingers spread wide and ran
them up through the thick coat. By the time I reached his beard, he had
lost his serious composure and melted into an "aw shucks" smile. He opened
the glass shower door and motioned me in very gentlemanly.

He opened a bottle of shower gel and squeezed a big glop onto a scrub. He
started rubbing my chest in large circular motions. It wasn't a huge
shower, and our faces were only inches apart. He just stared at me without
flinching. With any gay man, we would have locked lips a long time ago. But
that clearly wasn't on the agenda. However, it didn't mean the sexual
tension wasn't going through the fuckin' roof. My reflex was to drop to my
knees and start sucking him right then and there. But I was kinda enjoying
the buildup, and it was clear neither one of us was going to chicken out or
lose interest. So why not stretch the experience? I turned around, and he
scrubbed my back and eventually got bold enough to run a finger along my
ass crack. I pushed back and moaned to lend encouragement without directly
giving orders. After soaping every inch of my body, we traded places so I
could rinse off.

After drying off, he led me to the bedroom, dropped his towel on the floor,
and laid face up in the middle of the bed. I crawled on top of him;
straddling him. His blue eyes were locked in silent dialogue with me, and
the closed caption of his mind seemed to read, "Go for it. Blow my fucking
mind!" Bypassing the kiss on the lips, I traveled down to his left nipple
and started flicking it with the tip of my tongue. His dick had an
immediate reflex, and I could feel the head thump against my stomach. His
moan seemed to green-light further investigation into this erogenous
zone. I advanced to a nibble, and he exhaled and let out an audible "Oh
Gawd!" I worked his tits until I couldn't stand not having his dick in
eyesight anymore. Moving downward, I bypassed the big prize and started
licking his balls. It's rare that a straight guy shaves his sack, and James
was no exception. They were like sucking on a Brillo pad, but I didn't
care. I took one completely in my mouth rolling it around, gently at first
and eventually with enough suction to elicit a slight "ooh" of pain. Having
found the threshold of his pleasure, I moved to the twin orb and gave it
the same tour of my mouth. I detoured to the ticklish zone in the crevice
of his upper thigh, and he squirmed with delight.

I rolled him over and straddled him again licking and nuzzling the hairs on
the nape of his neck. I tugged on his left earlobe with my teeth and he
rolled his head just enough to signal a desire for more of that. I started
moving down his spine and would lick all the way back up to his head in
long continuous strokes, each time starting from a lower point as if daring
myself to go deeper. My palms pressed against his ass cheeks and spread
them apart exposing his asshole surrounded by hair that was still wet from
the shower. I dove in and munched that blonde furry ass like there was no
tomorrow. Up to this point, James had barely said a word, but a tongue in
the hole got him cheering me on. I pressed deeper; grinding my beard into
the area around his hole. The scratchy sensation left no doubt that this
pleasure was being brought to him by a man. I spit on his hole and rubbed
it around with my index finger. He opened up just enough for me to slip it
in. His hips bucked with the shock of the sensation, but he didn't signal
any reservations about what I was doing.

I flipped him over, spit on my finger, reinserted it, and turned it upward
to massage his prostate. He let out a big "ooh," and I pressed harder. A
clear drop of precum oozed out, and I could not resist any longer. I licked
it up, and after a moment of savoring the salty taste, I engulfed his dick
with my mouth. I scooted up to get a better angle and dove 8 inches down to
the base of his cock in one fluid motion. Remembering to breath, I managed
to avoid gagging and just hung out with my nose in his pubes allowing him
to flip through the Rolodex of women who had tried this before and
failed. As seconds went by, I gloated in my victory of swallowing the whole
thing. Finally coming up for air, I flicked my tongue on the head and
slowly rubbed it in a circular motion with my beard hoping he would
remember to return the favor with his own.

I dove down again and started a piston-like motion that threatened to send
him over the edge. I slowed down and gripped the base of his cock to stem
the tide of his impending orgasm. With a finger pressed on his prostate,
the other hand magnifying the sensation of my mouth, and the double whammy
of my tongue passing over the sensitive underside of his dickhead quickly
followed by the rough texture of my palm, I sucked, stroked, and finger
fucked him into a convulsing state. He was screaming with the pain of
sensory overload. I sped up, pressed harder, increased the suction, and
added a twist of the palm as it passed his head. He stopped screaming, but
started breathing in and out rapidly as if he needed more oxygen to survive
the pleasure. Years of sucking cock came down to this moment, and I gave
him everything I had. He obviously needed relief, and I wanted to throw him
over the edge. I clamped down just enough to give him the slightest teeth
scrape and sure enough his ass clenched down on my finger like he meant to
bite it off with his sphincter. Thick shots hit the back of my throat. I
pulled up just enough to not gag and swallowed every rope of cum he had to
offer. He instinctively grabbed the back of my head to stop the motion and
froze his own thrust as if to isolate the throbbing of his cock hidden deep
in my mouth. I gulped the last bit, and he slowly slid out of my mouth.

He sighed and laid his head back with his arms outstretched to his sides. I
placed my head in between his chest and armpit and just silently bobbed up
and down with his exhalations. My own cock was still hard as a rock, but my
own needs were temporarily displaced by my pride in giving him what seemed
like the blow job of his life. Time froze and the heaving of his chest
slowed. My hypnotic state was broken by his voice, "Will you fuck me?"


PART 3: PILE DRIVING


I quickly moved beyond the shock of the request and hid my crazy eagerness
with a nonchalant, "Sure." He said, "There's lube on the table, and I'm
going to need a lot of it. I haven't been fucked in a long time, and if
this works, it will be the first time I've been fucked when I wasn't
high. So go easy on me." I assured him, "I'll be gentle." To which he
immediately interrupted, "Well that may be necessary at first, but if my
memory serves me correctly, there's nothing like being mercilessly pile
driven." He broke into a devious smirk and promptly rolled over on his
stomach. I fumbled for the lube and wasted no time liberally applying it to
his hole and digging in with a finger to make sure it was penetrating deep
inside of him. I straddled him and just took in the site. His muscled back,
his fury bubble butt, and the recent memory of how good that hole felt to
my finger.

I pushed down on my cock to get it lined up and slowly pushed in. He wasn't
fighting it, but he was really tight and even with all the lube, this was
not going to be an effortless penetration. With slow, deliberate strokes I
was finally all the way in. My 6 ½ inch cock was not an enormous
challenge. The head is proportional, not a big mushroom top, and the shaft
is an average thickness. But it does get hard as marble statuary, and it
stays that way without any fluffing or blue pills. Fully entrenched, I laid
down flat against his back and looped my arms under his pits. I licked the
back of his neck, which was salty with sweat. Locked together with maximum
skin-to-skin contact, the embrace alone was a sexual experience to
behold. I started to rock back and forth in tiny oscillations. My dick had
reached a level of homeostasis that relieved the threat of unintentional
firing.

The tone of his moans signaled that I could shift into pile-driving mode. I
slowly ramped up; confident I could fuck him longer than his
out-of-practice ass could take. Being competitive, I wanted to take him to
the same edge I did with my mouth and fuck him right up to the point where
he was begging for relief. The oscillations got to the point that to go any
further, I would need a longer dick. I rose up on my knees and used the bed
to spring load the penetrations. The intensity was signaled by the smacking
sound of the impact of my body on his ass cheeks. He augmented the
soundtrack with guttural chants of "Fuck me. Fuck that ass." I slowed down
and leaned close to his head and asked "Do you think you could cum again?"
He responded, "Fuck yeah!" I pulled out and barked, "Roll over." He quickly
complied as if he didn't want to skip a beat. I grabbed his ankles and
pushed back. His hole had dilated, and my dick easily slipped back in. The
angle gave me a perfect set up to deeply penetrate him, and the extra depth
reignited the intensity of the fuck.

What surprised me was that he stared directly in my eyes and never let go
of his gaze. I was fucking his ass with my dick, but he was fucking my mind
with his eyes. Normally when "straight" men have "gay" sex, there is a
shame factor that precludes this level of unabated acknowledgment of what's
happening. He wanted to soak up every bit of what was going on. He wasn't
playing straight porn on the inside of his eyelids. He was locked onto me
unflinchingly acknowledging me and my maleness. This turned me on and made
me want to fuck him even longer. I stared back closing the loop that had
developed between us from my eyes to my mind to my dick to his ass to his
mind to his eyes and traversing the space between them with a surety of
connection that was as tangible as the velvet inside of his ass gripping
the head of my dick.

He reached down and grabbed his cock and started jacking at the same pace I
was fucking him. I smiled, knowing he was in range of orgasm number
two. His breathing signaled his altitude above the runway and let me know
he had put the wheels down for landing. I picked up the pace and slammed
his hole as hard as I could. His breathing turned into screaming and he
held his hand still and shot three ropes of cum almost in perfect sync with
my dick slamming into his ass. It didn't look like cum but more like
someone had stomped on a bottle of Elmer's Glue. It was the first time I
had lost contact with his eyes, and my amazement at the volume and
thickness of his gleaming white blasts of cum almost distracted me from the
task at hand. My dick was on autopilot, but my mind had certainly shifted
its focus to one of the most amazing ejaculations I had ever witnessed. I
looked in his eyes and froze. My dick was throbbing inside of him, filling
him with an orgasm that had been building since lunch. His eyes showed no
regret or fear of being filled with my seed. As bad as HIV is, the ability
to connect skin to skin, to ingest the essence of another without
containment, and to fear nothing from the positive side of infection was an
ironic bonus for which we had both just cashed in.

The desire to kiss him was overwhelming, but I knew that was off the
table. To my surprise, he lifted off the bed and kissed me softly, gently,
and without a trace of hesitation. As he laid back down, our lips parted
and the thick ropes of cum were still floating on top of the mat of chest
hair in the perfectly straight rows in which they were shot. The spell was
broken by the proclamation, "It's time for a beer."


PART 4: HUNKY MARINES


We moved to the living room and before long two Shiner Bock bottles were
being clinked together. He toasted, "To round two." We sat back on the
couch both exhausted and satiated by the experience. I asked, "So when was
the last time you got fucked up the ass?" He didn't even have to think
about it and answered, "Oh, not since I was in the Marines." To which I
responded, "Yeah, you talked about that at lunch, but it was the edited
version. I want details. Spill it." He took a huge swig of beer and began a
trip down a bitter and enticing trail. He said, "Well there were four of us
that used to hang out a lot. Three of us were on base; me, Tom, and
Kyle. And one guy, Jeff, lived in an apartment off base. Most of the time,
we hung out at Jeff's place. The normal routine was to drink a bunch of
beer and smoke a little pot. Hardly smart. I got busted on a random test
and shown the door. Typically we watched a ball game or whatever was on
TV. Jeff didn't have cable, so the choices were limited. I was the scrawny
one in the bunch. The other three were all built like brick
shithouses. When you think of a Marine, these are the guys you think of;
tall, thick, ripped, "guns" for arms...the whole package. I was in pretty
good shape; muscular and lean. But I was short and thin; 165 at my
best. They were all easily over 200."

"One day we were at Jeff's getting drunk and high as always. Tom was
messing around with the remote and somehow flipped it to the DVD mode and
some kinky ass shit was suddenly filling the room. Jeff pretended to be
embarrassed, but in reality, none of us saw any shame in watching porn. Tom
made no attempt to change what was on the screen, and it didn't take much
for our stoned, horny minds to be transfixed by what we saw. I guess it was
straight porn. There were two women and a guy. But the guy was in the
middle fuckin' one chick and getting plowed with a strap-on by the
other. The three of us sat there transfixed, and Jeff just shrugged and
said something about how hot the chicks were on the cover. We couldn't stop
watching, and before long, we all had our dicks out and were jacking
off. Jeff reached into a drawer and passed a bottle of lube around. Seeing
each other naked wasn't weird, but seeing each other erect and jacking off
was a first. On the dick front, I wasn't the scrawny one as you well
know. Jeff's was about the same length as mine, maybe a little longer, but
it was literally as thick as a beer can. I couldn't wrap my fingers around
it. It was a monster. It was at least 8" long but looked disproportionately
short due to its girth. Tom and Kyle had decent, average sized dicks that
looked small just because of the enormity of their frames.

I was sitting on the couch with Jeff and I'm not sure what came over me,
but I leaned over and started sucking his gigantic cock. He was surprised
but hardly upset. He leaned back, spread his knees apart, and let me have
full access to his dick. Eventually, I swung around and knelled on the
ottoman in front of him to get a better angle. Tom and Kyle were giggling
the way stoned people do. I guess I should have known I was asking for
it. I was crouched down on the ottoman, bent over sucking Jeff's dick, and
my ass was straight up in the air rocking back and forth waving for
attention. Before long, I could feel lube being worked into my ass with a
finger, shortly followed by Tom's dick head pressing against my asshole. I
had never been fucked, and I certainly didn't wake up that day thinking I
was going to get my ass cheery popped. But there was something about that
day; the pot, the beer, seeing the porn, seeing Jeff's baby-arm dick. I
just didn't fight back and actually pushed into it a bit to let him know he
had permission. Tom fucked me and came up my ass. Kyle followed suit, and
Jeff came down my throat."

"I've since learned that there is a term for that...cumwhore. To my
surprise, it didn't really cause an awkward situation and in fact, we all
enjoyed it so much that we did it repeatedly. None of the three of them
ever bottomed, so I was the designated cum bucket. Eventually, I got to the
point that I could take getting fucked by Jeff. There was even one time
when I was riding Jeff and Kyle pushed me forward inserting his dick on top
of Jeff's. I was getting fucked by two huge Marines at once, and I can't
deny that I enjoyed it. I replay that day over and over when I jack off. I
can only assume one of them gave it to me, and at least one of them wasn't
as straight as we all thought. For all I know, we had so much sex, they
could all be positive. It never occurred to me that a straight Marine could
give me HIV and eventually land me in the hospital with full-blown
AIDS. After getting kicked out, I came back home and a similar situation
never materialized and being straight myself, I never sought it out. I had
unprotected sex with women and never even thought that I might be infecting
them. It was all just so not a part of my world back then."

I was both shell shocked and horned up by the story. I said, "So you're
straight, and you've been double penetrated by two Marines; one of whom had
an 8" beer-can dick?" "Yep." "I fucking hate you. That's just not
fair. Well hate would be the wrong word. It's more like insanely
jealous. So would you ever try that again?" "Well, I'm here having sex with
you, and that's certainly new. I'm not sure what it means besides I'm
horny. But unless you have an extra penis, the dueling dick thing is off
the list at least for today. I'm not interested in "dating" men. I don't
want to deal with the status issue, and you are quite literally the only
poz guy I know here." After he said that, I realized this was no ordinary
roll in the hay, but what would likely be some kind of turning point for
him. I also realized he was hot as shit, but emotionally a wreck, literally
adrift between distant islands of identity, desire, and disease. Maybe I
was a life raft...or a shark.

His chest hair was glued to his skin and my dick smelled of ass. We hit the
shower and prepared for round two.


PART 5: FUCK THERAPY


In the shower, James said, "I've never told that story to anyone. I think
about it all the time, but I've never trusted anyone with it until
tonight." As profound as the statement was, he seemed lighthearted in
saying it. I felt special as a confidant that gave him release from a
secret that nearly killed him. He got a big smile and said, "Ya know what
else? I've never fucked anyone up the butt. I've had tons of anal sex, but
I've never been the top. This is going to be a first for me, and I don't
know how long I can wait." I responded, "Why wait?" He shook his head and
said "If I fucked you here, this glass shower enclosure would be broken to
bits and that would ruin the mood." We laughed, and after a half-hearted
attempt to get clean, we stepped out to dry off not giving a damn if there
were still traces of dried cum all over us.

We got to the bed and he wasted no time devouring my dick. He obviously
knew what he was doing in the dick-sucking department, and it felt
great. But I was nowhere near orgasm, and I could tell he wanted to get on
with his first butt fucking. I rolled back a bit showing my ass as a hint
of permission that he didn't have to suck me dry before he fucked me. The
wordless signal didn't go unnoticed, and he spit a huge glob right on my
hole and started rubbing it with his dickhead. I moaned in an effort to egg
him on. With just spit and precum to ease the way, that huge dick was no
easy task, but eventually he got it all the way in. My ass was in
heaven. His thick cock filled me to the point that he could take my pulse
with his dick. He looked me straight in the eye, and I said, "You're in
it. So fuck it." It was like the gate opening at a rodeo, but instead of
holding on for 8 seconds, this bull dick bucked my ass for what seemed like
forever. I shouted "Fuck me like the big-dick Marine you are. Fuck me like
those big Marines fucked your sweet ass. Fuck me like you are making up for
every fuck you gave but never got in return."

His head tilted back and his eyes shut. The A/C was working fine, but he
was sweating like a pig. Big drops of sweat were falling off his head and
landing like raindrops on my chest. He didn't dare stop the rhythm to wipe
them away. My dick was throbbing with every stroke, but the focus was on
what was happening to my ass. I've had some good fucks in my life, but this
one had a dimension of intensity that was in a class of its own. He didn't
waste a single inch of that dick and plowed it in me until his groin was
physically stopped by my flesh producing a loud, metronomic slapping sound.

I wondered if he fucked women like this. He might not have been gay, but he
fucked like a man fucks another man. It wasn't sweet or gentle. It did not
hold a trace of feminine deference. It was a pounding full of animalistic
dominance. My ass was somewhere between sore and numb. It was still
pleasurable, but more as an endurance challenge than anything else.

He was in another world. His body was fucking me in this reality, but his
mind was pounding through something completely different. Maybe it was the
shame of being the bottom, the shame of being infected, the shame of being
found out and having to cover with the hooker story, the shame of having to
tell his partners he was positive, the shame that everyone doubted he was
straight, the shame that he was the one that got discharged, or the shame
that he had yet to piece his life back together. It was like if he fucked
hard enough, he could stroke the shame away and freedom and self-respect
was at the end of this fuck. Maybe it was the joy that, male or female,
nobody had ever given themselves over to him like this.

His eyes opened like he had come out of the tunnel of memories he was
fucking through. He instantly reconnected with me emotionally and leaned in
to kiss me while he continued fucking. His torso was pressed against mine,
and his thick chest hair was like sandpaper against my tits. His kiss was
sealed on my lips, and I breathed though my nose unable to gain oxygen
through my mouth. The back and forth of his furry stomach on my dick and
the hundreds of chest hairs electrifying my tits caused a volcanic orgasm
to build inside of me. I erupted with a huge load between our bodies
convulsing in an all-encompassing orgasm. His lips left mine and he rose up
suddenly. A couple of strokes later he froze in a catatonic state and let
out a series of deep "uggs" that were perfectly timed with the showers of
hot cum I felt deep inside of me. Without removing his dick, he collapsed
on top of me drenched in sweat and breathing like he had just run a
marathon. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in as hard as I
could. Silently, we laid there waiting for our bodies to recover. His dick
was still hard and very much in my ass. It could have gone for another
round, but the rest of him was done for the night.

We showered in silence. I didn't know where he went in his head during that
fuck, but it was a long way away and there was a lot of pain there. The sex
was aggressively physical, but at some level it was more like a kind of
therapy. There was a lot of anguish that got transferred onto that fuck. It
would have been nice to think it had been about me, but it wasn't.

After drying off, we both got dressed as if to signal the events of the
evening were over. He offered me a beer, but I declined and made up some
excuse about needing to get home. I felt he had gotten what he needed, and
my company might distract him from working through what had just
happened. I kissed him tenderly, and he kissed me back with all sincerity.

I drove away and had no idea if this would ever be repeated or even if it
should be. If he needed a boyfriend, I was most likely not it. If he needed
a girlfriend, my presence certainly wouldn't help that. If he needed a fuck
buddy, he didn't signal that with what happened tonight. The only thing I
knew for sure was that he was in a better place when I left than when I
showed up. Plus, I had some awesome sex. Somehow that was enough, and I
went home satisfied to have been a friend.