Date: Tue, 9 Aug 2005 20:46:50 +0100 (BST)
From: andy_amslond@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: THE REPLACEMENT, part 2

Dean did decide to move into the riverside flat.  It
all happened remarkably quickly as the previous tenant
had already moved out and Dean had very little stuff
to move.  That also meant the end to our shared car
journeys, much to my regret.  But then again the
relationship between us was not quite like it was
before the rug incident anyway.  The work and daily
routine continued the way it did before, but there
seemed to be a new awkwardness between us.  Whenever
we were alone together, whether it was a business
discussion or just having lunch, he appeared to be
stiffer and more guarded than before.  That easy
rapport which had been developed between us was still
there, but somehow it felt less warm.

As for me, I was racked by self-doubt.  I tried very
hard to wipe them out of my mind but every time I saw
Dean the same questions would resurface.  What would
have happened if I had taken our last encounter
further?  What does Dean think of me now?  What should
I do?  I began to treat Dean more warily, not because
I wanted to put distance between us, though no doubt
that was how it came across, but because I was trying
so hard to observe his every gesture and to guess what
they could mean.  I had also lost pretty much all
interest in sex.  What's the point of having sex if I
can't have it with Dean?  I don't believe in second
best.

A few weeks after Dean moved into his new flat he
decided to throw a house-warming party, to be held on
a Saturday night a few weeks before my last day at the
bank.  The party was supposed to be a small affair,
but many more people than I had expected turned up.
Our whole team at work was there, as were a few of my
friends whom I had introduced to Dean.  Much to my
surprise quite a few of Dean's friends were also
present.  I guess he does make friends easily and
there is a large network of expatriate Australians in
London.

Dean was in his element.  Wearing a pair of
fashionably faded jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt
that was just tight enough to show off his broad
shoulders and defined chest without appearing too much
of a show-off, he managed to look effortlessly casual
and sexy.  He spent all night moving between the
groups of guests, introducing people and filling up
glasses with Australian white wine, all the time
displaying his magnetic smile and charming everybody
around him.  He was happy, confident and in control, a
king surveying his kingdom.  I desired him more than
ever.

As the night wore on I got chatting to an Australian
friend of his.

"Alright mate?  I hope you have some alcohol in that
juice you're drinking," he said pointing at my glass.

"Well actually it's plain orange juice.  Have to drive
home later you see."  The real reason for my
abstinence was right beneath my feet -- the rug in
Dean's living room reminded how foolish I could act
after a few too many drinks and I was determined not
to repeat the same mistake again.

"I'm Pete, by the way; Dean's mate at university in
Sydney." He said as he proffered his hand, which I
promptly shook.

"Nice to meet you!  I'm Tom, one of Dean's colleagues
at work."

"Ah, so you are Tom," Pete exclaimed as looked me up
and down, pretending to scrutinise me, "Yes you are
just the way Dean described you, especially the funny
hairstyle."

"Oh yeah?"  I grinned and turned red with
embarrassment as I sub-consciously ruffled my slightly
messy hair.  I never quite understood why people pick
on my hairstyle.  It is supposed to be quite trendy,
though I guess it will never be appreciated in the
conservative world of banking.  I was also secretly
happy that Dean mentions me to his friends.  "What
else did he say about me then?"

"Oh nothing much.  Something about you being a typical
stuck-up and repressed Brit." Pete smiled with a glint
in his eye.

"Yeah right," I narrowed my eyes in a mock vindictive
expression, "And you can tell Dean he's a lazy bastard
with not enough respect for his elders.  His funny
accent is not going to fool anyone you know."

"Ha ha, dead right there," Pete laughed, "Actually he
said you're a very nice guy."

"Is that it?  Just a very nice guy?" I felt just a
little bit disappointed.

"Well he also said something about your dry sense of
humour and you being the clumsiest person he's met,"
Pete replied, pointing at the stains of spilt orange
juice on my sleeve.

Well, to be fair I dill spill a glass of juice earlier
in the evening.  But at least I managed to avoid the
death-trap that is Dean's living room rug.

"So, tell me something about Dean.  I guess he must be
a real heart-breaker back home in Sydney."

"Yeah you're right about that too.  You should meet
his girlfriend Michelle, a real stunner and great
personality too.  I doubt it would last too much
longer though, what with him being in London and her
in Sydney.  Can't quite imagine Dean in a long
distance relationship."

I froze when I heard that, though I tried hard to act
normal.

"Well, I'm sure he'll do very well with the talent
pool here," I shrugged, "We'll just have to find him a
girl who's not so stuck up and repressed."

We both laughed, but in my heart I wasn't laughing at
all.  In fact it felt like something had died inside
me.  I knew it, I sighed and thought to myself.  So
it's good that I stopped myself from going in deeper.
Somethings in life are just too good to be true.

>From that point onwards my orange juice was swiftly
replaced by pretty full glasses of white wine.  I
pretended I was celebrating my newfound freedom, when
in fact I was drowning my sorrows.  What the hell.  As
I became more and more loosened up I began to feel the
weight that had accumulated over the past few weeks
being lifted off my shoulders.  I was happy and
relaxed, chatting to everyone in sight and truly
enjoying the party.  I remembered Dean throwing the
occasional glance at me, the usual questioning,
contemplative look, which I returned with a carefree
wink.  We chatted, though I can't remember what about.
 In fact, I can't remember much of what happened at
all.

When I opened my eyes all I could see was bright
whiteness.  My mind seemed to be turning more slowly
than usual as I struggled to work out where the hell I
was.  I was in a bed, which was nice, but I don't
remember such large windows in my bedroom.  I lifted
my head by half an inch and was immediately hit by a
sharp pain in the head, quickly followed by an intense
sense of nausea.  "Uggghhhh," I moaned as I sank back
into the bed.  I think my hangover had woken up as
well.  After a few more minutes, when I had got used
to the throbbing in my head, I finally got out of bed.
 As I squinted my eyes and looked out of the window,
the beautiful river view could only mean one thing: I
was in Dean's flat.  I looked at my watch.  It was ten
thirty.

I shuffled out from the bedroom into the living room
and plonked myself down in the nearest sofa.  I could
hear someone whistling from a distance.  The living
room looked disconcertingly tidy.  After what seemed
to be hours (funny how time always seems to drag when
you are vegetating) Dean strolled in from the kitchen,
wearing little more than a towelling robe and a big
grin.

"So, how are you feeling, sleepy head?"

Even in my dreadful state I couldn't help but notice
how alluring Dean looked.  His robe was short enough
to show his muscular tanned legs, which were covered
with thick, dark blonde hair.  The opening of the gown
also revealed tentalising glimpses of his well defined
chest and six-pack, also covered with hair.  With his
hair floppy and wet after a shower and arms folded
across his chest, Dean looked rugged, manly and
utterly irresistible.  As my groin began to stir I
looked down and realised, to my horror, that I was
wearing nothing more than my boxer briefs.

"Uggh I feel like I'm dying.  Oh no where are my
clothes?  Oh god what have I done?  Aaarrgghh could
you turn off the sun please?" And so I carried on
mumbling, semi-coherently, for some time.

"Hey chill, buddy, let me get you some coffee."  Dean
said, obviously enjoying watching me in my state.

Half a mug of coffee later I was at least feeling half
human.  I eventually found my trousers and managed to
look half presentable too.

"Okay Dean.  You don't need to protect me.  I'm a big
boy, I can handle this.  Just tell me what did I do
last night?"

"You really don't remember, do you?" Dean smiled as he
relaxed into the armchair opposite mine.  As he
stretched his legs in his familiar laid back pose I
couldn't help but to follow the line of his muscular
legs up to his crotch.  I could see his eyes wandering
over my bare upper body too, but I was too
pre-occupied with my hangover to think too much about
that.

"Well, where should we start?  Let's see," He creased
his forehead and pretended to look serious, "After
single-handedly finishing half my stock of wine you
began to chat up everyone in sight with jokes which
nobody understood.  You then challenged me to a game
of strip poker, I refused to play but that didn't stop
you from stripping off half your clothes anyway."  I
gasped in horror.  "Well, by the time you got down to
your underpants Pete and I decided we had to do
something, so we knocked you out by hitting you over
the head with an empty bottle."

"Oooooh nooooooo..." I was lost for words as I clutched
my head, "That would explain the headache then.  How
on earth am I ever going to face my friends again?"

"Well actually I was only kidding," Dean broke into a
hearty laugh, "You're very well behaved when you're
drunk.  Your mom would be proud."

"Oh I'd rather not bring my mom into this."  I felt
better, but only just.  "So what actually happened?"

"Nothing much actually," he shrugged, "We all had a
good time and you got drunk.  After a while you kind
of disappeared and I found you sleeping in my bed.  So
I just tried to make you more comfortable by taking
your clothes off.  Nice shirt you wore last night, by
the way.  Where did you get it from?"

I was aghast and began to think that maybe I prefer
his original version of what happened last night.  I
felt equally excited and appalled by the thought that
Dean had touched my body.

"Oh I'm so so sorry.  I hope I didn't snore too much."

"Don't worry you're very quiet in bed," now it was
Dean's turn to turn red, "But after a while I decided
you were a bit distracting so I moved to the guest
room."

My god, I had slept with Dean, at least for a while.

"So did I say anything stupid last night?"  I asked,
trying to divert the topic away from our sleeping
arrangement.

"Oh nothing too outrageous," Dean carried on in a
matter-of-fact tone, "Though you did confess your
deepest and darkest fantasies to me."

Oh no.  I can't believe it.  This is getting worse and
worse.

Dean took a pause and carried on with a cheeky smile
on his face and an inquisitive tone in his voice.

"You said there's someone you really fancy at work.
Is that true?"

My heart skipped a beat.  Did I really confess all to
him?  Maybe this was the opportunity for me to come
clean.  I thought hard but courage once again deserted
me and I fudged the answer.

"Dean, what difference does it make if I fancy
someone?  I might know exactly how I feel, but it
takes two to tango you know."

"Then you're a lucky man.  At least you know where you
stand.  Sometimes I think I have no idea how I feel
any more."

My ears perked up.  This revelation of a vulnerable
side to his personality was news to me.

"I've decided to break up with my girlfriend."  Dean
said, looking down with a frown, "My life has changed
so much over the past couple of months I feel I ought
to take a step back and think more carefully about
what I should be doing.  It can be a bit confusing
sometimes."

At that point my heart leapt.  For once I felt there
might be hope after all.  One part of me yelled "This
is your chance!  Go in!" whilst another part of me
counselled patience.  "You should not take advantage
of the poor guy whilst he is feeling vulnerable.  If
it's meant to be, he will eventually be yours."

"I know you'll be alright," I smiled.

"Yes, I know."  He smiled back as we looked into each
other's eyes.  His door has been pushed open by
another inch and I felt his beautiful deep blue eyes
were sending out fresh messages, "Just give me time."

That day, as I walked home after helping Dean clean up
his flat, I felt like a prisoner who has just been set
free.  There is hope and the future is all to play
for.

After the party, my last two weeks at the bank just
flew by.  Dean was back to his normal self, brimming
with charm and good humour.  As he had taken over
pretty much all my day-to-day tasks by then, he became
way too busy to spend time with me on personal issues,
which was fine by me.

As for me, I had more time to reflect on life and my
relationship with Dean.  I became more and more
convinced of my feelings for him and gradually the
defensive walls I had built around me began to
crumble.  How could I be so self assured about
quitting my job and giving up the life I know to start
my own business, but yet be so timid when it comes to
telling Dean how I feel about him?  Dean is worth much
more than anything I have to lose.  At some point you
just have to follow your heart.

My final day at work eventually arrived.  Michael took
the whole team out to lunch, during which he made a
speech about my achievements over the past five years
and presented me with a leaving gift.  I cringed
through the speech as I really don't take compliments
well, though I was genuinely touched by the affection
they all showed me.  Dean, for his part, was unusually
subdued and looked thoughtful and pre-occupied all
day.

There were many loose ends to tie up at work so I
ended up staying late that day.  One by one my
soon-to-be ex colleagues came into my office to bid
their fairwells as they left, until only Dean and I
were left in the office.

At about seven I prepared to leave for the last time.
I gathered up my personal belongings and my courage
and went across to Dean's room.

"Hey Dean."

"Hi," he looked up from his computer, "So this is it
then."

We did the customary Good Lucks and Thank Yous, but
when it came to saying Good Bye neither of us could
quite bring it to our lips.  I guess we both felt
there was so much more to be said.

I finally plucked up my courage and broke the silence.

"Look Dean, it's been a huge pleasure getting to know
you over the past few months," Dean opened his mouth
but I raised my hand to stop him speaking.  Frankly, I
was so nervous I just wanted to finish my speech.

"I think you'll be great in this job.  I don't think
I've met a person as competent and self-assured as you
are.  Hell, sometimes, especially now, I wish I could
be just half as laid back as you are.  Anyway.  On a
personal level I don't think I've met a person as
charming, as funny or as beautiful as you."

I bit my lip, took a deep breath and looked straight
into his eyes.

"Now that we are no longer colleagues and I may never
see you again, I just want to say this before I leave
this office for the last time.  You have changed me a
lot over the past few months and I've never felt more
attracted to anyone the way I'm attracted to you."
There, I said it.  I sighed as I felt a millstone
finally loosened from my neck.

There was an uncomfortable pause and Dean looked away
from my eyes.

"Wow, Tom," he folded his arms and took on a
wide-eyed, surprised expression, "This is a bit
overwhelming.  I don't really know what to say."

I knew it.  What made me think Dean could love me?
For all I know he's probably not into guys.  Even if
he was, why would a good looking hunk like him find me
attractive?  I felt crestfallen but relieved at the
same time.  At least I had given it a go.

"It's okay," I bit my lip and turned away, "I
understand.  Good bye."  With that I turned round and
walked out of his office.

"Tom!" Dean called after me but I did not look back.
Instead I headed straight to the lift and down to the
garage.  Once inside the cocoon of my car I felt
completely drained, both emotionally and physically.
They say crying is good for you, but I've never
believed it.  "You'll get over him," I kept telling
myself, "Be strong and get over it."  But some
emotions are harder to dam up than others.  In Dean I
had caught a glimpse of my future, where my happiness
and completeness as a person is tied up with him.  How
can you not feel inconsolably sad when you can't get
something as perfect as this?  I gunned the engine to
life and drove home, tears running silently down my
cheeks.

When I got home I slipped out of my suit and dived
into the shower, willing the hot sprays to wash away
my disappointment.  I had lost my appetite and could
only manage a large whiskey, which I nursed by the
window with the lights of the city twinkling outside.

At about nine the doorbell rang.  Still preoccupied
with my thoughts, I went over and opened the door,
forgetting that I was dressed only in my skimpy
dressing gown.  Imagine my surprise when I saw Dean
standing outside, leaning casually against the wall,
with a bottle in his hand.

"Well, hello stranger."

"May I come in?" He asked with a nervous smile.  I
showed him in, closed the door and leaned against it,
not too sure what to do next.  Dean took a few moments
to look around the living room before turning round to
face me.

"Nice flat!  What a view.  Hey I've brought you a
bottle, but I see you are well sorted in the drinks
department."  He said with a cheeky little grin,
pointing at my whiskey.

"I've only just started.  Honest!  This is hardly
touched!" I raised my tumbler and pointed to it in
protest.  I felt the atmosphere lightening up already.

"Well, whatever, I'm sure we'll be needing more." He
smiled and found a sofa to sit on.  I joined him on a
nearby armchair.

"So why did you run out of my office like that?
You're not very good at letting me finish my sentences
are you?" I shrugged my shoulders and opened my mouth,
but Dean raised his hand and silenced me.  Unlike me
earlier on in the evening, however, he did not appear
to be nervous at all and was positively enjoying his
little speech.

"Well, I came here to thank you for being so honest
with me.  I think you have changed me a lot over the
past few months too.  At first I thought you're just a
typical stuck up and closed up Brit, but the more I
got to know you the more I got to like your
self-deprecating sense of humour and the way you could
be so smart and modest at the same time.  Without
knowing at the time, I have been falling steadily
under your irresistible personality."

My cheeks were turning red now, and that's not because
of the whiskey I had been drinking.

"I knew I felt different whenever I'm with you, but I
didn't know what it was until that night you slept in
my bed after my house warming party.  Now I have to
come clean I guess."

I raised an eyebrow.

"That night I actually laid next to you in bed.
Nothing naughty though, I swear!  I spent all night
tracing the contours of your body with my eyes,
listening to your breathing.  I love the little
dimples in your cheeks, I love your smooth, defined
body, and I love the way you would sub-consciously
bite your lower lip, just as you do when you're
nervous.  I wish I could wrap my arms round you but I
just didn't dare.  I realised then that I wanted you
more than anything else."

"So what about your girlfriend then?" I ventured.

"Yeah, well, you also made me realise what I have with
Michelle is not really what I'm looking for.  That's
why I decided to break up with her.  I've been with
guys in the past, but somehow you're different.  I
guess I've never been in love with anyone the way I'm
in love with you."

By now it was hard for me to restrain my joy, but I
tried.

"So, Mr Hudson, what do you propose we do now?" I
asked with the straightest, most serious tone I could
muster.

"Well, let me think.  Now that we're no longer
colleagues, I guess we could start our relationship
from scratch.  What do you reckon?" Dean asked as he
reached out his hand for me to shake.

"That's a deal." I replied with a grin almost as wide
as Dean's.

I reached up from my armchair to shake his hand, not
quite believing my luck at how things have turned out.
 Instead of a handshake, however, Dean grabbed my hand
with an iron grip and pulled it firmly.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed as I lost my balance and collapsed
on top of him, sending what's left of my whiskey
flying through the air, though somehow I didn't care
too much about that anymore.

"Ha ha, gotcha!  That's payback for your devious
manoeuvre on my living room rug!" Dean exclaimed
triumphantly as he held me firmly in his strong arms.
Unlike our last tangle, however, I knew exactly what
to do next.  Looking into his deep blue eyes, I moved
my head slowly towards him until I could feel his warm
breath on my cheeks and his wonderful scent once again
conquered my senses.  As my lips touched his, I knew
our fate together was sealed.  Soon we were consumed
by passion, as lips and tongues were joined in an
ecstatic dance.

When we eventually separated with some reluctance, I
caught my breath and asked softly, "Dean, did you say
you're in love with me?"

"Hmm did I?" he arched an eyebrow and pretended to
ponder the question, "I think I need another kiss just
to be sure."

With that, he tightened his hold on me, sealed his
lips against mine and gave me the most teasingly
delicate and sensual kiss I have ever tasted.  I still
had my eyes closed, lost in pleasure, when his lips
parted from mine and he started to stroke my cheek
gently with a finger.

"Yes Tom, I love you."

There was no hesitation on my part as I opened my eyes
and looked straight into his.

"Dean, I love you too."

At that point, no more words were necessary as we both
let ourselves be taken over by passion and lust.  We
resumed our kiss with renewed fervour as we sank into
the sofa, our bodies pressed against each other.  I
pulled his shirt-tail slowly out of his trousers and
began to stroke his back gently.  I could feel his
muscles tightening and flexing as he turned to his
side to give me more access.  I felt so comfortable in
Dean's arms that I wish time could stand still.  At
the same time Dean loosened my dressing gown and
explored my body, his hands running over my chest and
back.

It wasn't long before Dean's shirt came off, soon to
be joined by his trousers, shoes and socks.  His tight
white briefs and what's left of my dressing gown were
the only barriers that remained between us.  As our
legs entwined I marvelled at how good his body felt
next to mine.  I loved the way the hairs on his body
rub against my skin, I loved his scent and I loved the
way his lips caressed mine, as if they were speaking a
secret language that only I could understand.  But
Dean obviously decided there is much more for his lips
to explore.  He turned me round so that I was on my
back, held my hands tightly and started to make a
trail of kisses from my face down my neck and to my
chest.  I shivered in excitement as his tongue touched
my flesh.

Dean was making me so horny that I decided it was time
he was rewarded for his hard work.  With some effort I
released my hands from his grip and sat upright,
pinning him against the sofa.  Now I had the full view
of Dean's body in front of me, and what a view it was.
 He had the broad shoulders of a swimmer, the toned
muscular chest of a bodybuilder and defined abs that
would put any washboard to shame.  The hairs on his
chest, which taper down to a line running to his navel
and beyond, serve to emphasise his magnificent
masculinity further.

As I feasted my eyes on his body, Dean curled up his
lips to form a wide grin, the mischievous glint in his
eye beckoning me to do more.  He is obviously proud of
his body and was glad that I was enjoying it so much.
I did not need any encouragement and dived hungrily
in, exploring every inch of his body with my tongue.
As I licked and then sucked on his nipples, Dean
closed his eyes and tipped his head back in ecstasy.
But there was no letting up, as my lips and tongue
made steady progress down south, following the line of
rough blonde hair, stopping briefly to poke and circle
his navel before eventually arriving at the
destination.

I held back and salivated over the view of Dean's
thick cock straining against his tight white briefs.
I traced the outline of his cock with my tongue and
teased him until he moaned and pushed his groin
against my face, urging me to take it.  I succumbed to
the temptation and pulled his briefs down slowly,
revealing his hard, throbbing manhood.  I admired it
for a moment before engulfing it with my lips, the
salty taste of pre-cum overwhelming my taste-buds.
Soon Dean was moaning in pleasure as I licked his
bulbous cock-head and played with his foreskin with my
tongue.  The moaning intensified as I slid his
eight-inch length past my lips and down my throat,
caressing every inch of it with my lips and tongue.

I loved sucking Dean's cock and played with it as if
it was my private toy, until Dean raised me back up
and reclaimed my lips with a hungry kiss.  He
obviously felt it was time he took control and I was
all too happy to capitulate.  With our lips still
locked in a passionate kiss, he turned his body and
laid me down on the sofa.  I relaxed as he kissed me
gently from my neck down to my chest, his tongue
circling my nipples until they stood erect.

All was fine and lovely until he prodded his tongue at
my sensitive armpits, upon which I shuddered and
tensed up.  Dean immediately raised his head, a
surprised look on his face.

"You aren't ticklish, are you?"

"No, of course not," I held his hands as tightly as I
could, "What made you think that?"

Dean's face slowly creased into a wolfish grin, his
eyes full of mischief and conspiracy, "You are
ticklish, aren't you?"

At this point all hell broke loose.  I did not even
have the chance to protest as Dean grabbed both my
wrists with one hand and pinned them above my head,
all at lightening speed.  This left his other hand
free to stroke my sensitive waist.  At the same time
his tongue dived into my armpits and started to tease
me with long sensuous strokes interspaced with firm,
rapid dabs.  I was soon reduced to an uncontrollable
mess, my body bent over double in laughter one moment,
and then overcome by uncontrollable spasms the next,
as Dean's industrious tongue and hand found yet
another sensitive patch of my body to tease.  My ears,
the back of my neck, the inside of my thighs, nowhere
went unexplored.  I squirmed, yelled and begged Dean
to stop, though in truth I was rather enjoying this
erotically charged mixture of pleasure and pain.

Dean eventually let me go, leaving me panting with
exhaustion on the sofa.

"I don't think I've ever met someone so sensitive!" he
exclaimed with an amazed look on his face.

"Uggghhh -- just wait till I find your weak spot!"

He smiled and embraced me tenderly, our lips met once
again in a passionate kiss.

"I'm sorry for being so naughty, I'll make up for it."

Dean was true to his word as he made a trail with his
tongue down the front of my body, stopping to pay
special attention to my abs, tracing the shape of the
well-defined muscles.  After all this tickling my cock
was standing at full attention, the cock-head
glistening with plenty of pre-cum; a shiny beacon for
Dean to home in on.  I was soon overcome with lust as
he first licked and then sucked my cock, sending
ripples of pleasure through my body every time his
lips slid over the ridge of my cock-head.

Not content with giving me the best blowjob I had ever
received, Dean intensified his pleasure offensive by
licking and sucking on my sensitive balls.  I closed
my eyes and moaned very loudly.  By the time his
tongue reached the sensitive triangle between my balls
and my hole, I was putty in his hands.  My moans
became louder and more frequent as he raised my legs
and started to encircle and prod at my hole with his
tongue, each contact filling me with pleasure and
anticipation for more.  I begged him to take me.

"Oh don't stop there Dean, it feels so good..."

"Hmm...  Would you like me to fuck you?" Dean asked with
a sweet smile.

"I'm yours -- as long as you promise not to tickle me
again!" I answered with a grin on my face.

We eventually found our way to the bedroom and settled
into the king-sized bed.  My heart was racing with
excitement and anticipation as Dean unrolled a condom
slowly over his hard cock and then smothered it with a
generous squirt of lube.  We did not exchange any
words, but by the look in his eyes I knew he would be
gentle with me.  My confidence in him was fully
justified as he raised my legs to his shoulders and
aligned the tip of his cock against my hole.  With
barely discernable increases in pressure, he slowly
pushed his way into me, while at the same time
stroking my legs and chest with his hands.

"Hmm, that is nice..."

When I felt his whole length inside me, Dean leant
over and kissed me with a hunger that left me longing
for more.  Our lips parted as he gently slid his cock
in and out of my hole, lengthening each stroke only
when he felt I was ready and comfortable.  Well, I was
very ready and started to moan in pleasure and buck
against him, urging him on.  Dean responded by
building up a rhythm that tested the limit of what I
could take but which always left me yearning for just
a bit more.  Never once did he thrust just for the
sake of his own pleasure.  We were united in one,
consumed in our combined pleasure and passion.

As we both raced towards the inevitable climax, Dean
tightened his embrace and turned up the tempo.  I
began to play with my own cock as the pressure built
up.  Dean seemed to read my mind and just as I was
approaching the point of no return, he stopped his
thrusting and pushed his cock-head against my
prostate, which sent me way over the edge.

As the moment arrived, my body tensed up and my mind
momentarily went blank, the void quickly replaced by
the overwhelming pleasure of release as I shouted and
squirted strings of cum into the air.  It was an
incredible orgasm which left me panting with
exhaustion and filled with satisfaction.

Dean slid out of me slowly and tore off the condom.
It was his turn to stroke his cock furiously, his eyes
closed and lips slightly parted in anticipation of the
eruption of sensations that soon overcame him.  I
started to stroke his balls and, as if on cue, he
arched his back and moaned in ecstasy as strings of
cum shot out of his cock.

After a few moments, we both looked in amazement at
the volume of cum that had collected in little pools
all over my torso.

"Hmm, looks like we've made a bit of a mess here!  I
wonder which patch of cum is yours and which is mine?"

"Yes," I laughed, "Next time you'll have to be more
careful where you shoot.  I guess it will come with
more practice."

"In that case we should pencil in some more sessions,"
Dean said as he moved his lips towards mine, "Looks
like I need a lot of practice."

Well, we didn't really care which pool of cum came
from Dean and which was from me, nor was it possible
to separate our lips as we embraced in a deep,
emotional kiss.

Afterwards, as we slept in each other's arms, I woke
up suddenly in the middle of the night thinking that
maybe all this was just a dream, only to be reassured
by the tingling sensation of Dean's breath against the
back of my neck.  I turned and found him awake, his
eyes slowly tracing the contour of my back.  He smiled
and tightened his embrace by the merest degree, as if
I was his most precious treasure that he was never
going to let go of.  I drifted back to sleep with a
sigh of happiness that came from the deepest reaches
within me.

The bank I had worked for might have found the perfect
replacement for me, but I knew that in Dean I had
finally found the missing part of my soul that nothing
can ever replace.



THE END