Date: Sun, 16 Apr 2006 20:54:53 -0400
From: Hart Crane <thebrokentower@gmail.com>
Subject: What Do You Have to Say Now? Part 2

        Following the extreme turn of events, I felt a tumult of feelings
that ranged from fear, anxiety, despair and dread to a secret sense of
joy & relief. I couldn't grapple with the fact of what had happened,
and as the days passed since my romp with Brandon, my roommate, it
seemed life was returning to normal. Sure, things were fucked up. I
had fucked the one of the hottest, most desired seniors on campus
right in his mouth until I had blown the hugest load of my life right
down the Italian pretty boy's throat. That wasn't the easiest reality
to swallow, but just thinking about it during the day at class or upon
waking, or seeing Brandon coming in and out of the dorm room, caused
me now my dick to fatten and swell. It was getting painful and
inconvenient.

        Somehow I was afraid Brandon would say something, which didn't make
any fucking sense. But Brandon had only been turned fag by force.
Maybe I had been provoked and seduced myself, and needed it, but it
was Brandon's popularity and persuasion to control the group's sense
of reality that worried me initially. He could have claimed anything.
That I raped him. That he caught me with another guy. That he saw me
beating off to porno. I could exactly counter any of the charges with
truth, if he had done so, because it would have meant only ensuring
everyone including my girlfriend (who I was back with) that in fact
yes, I was a huge homo. But the terror of him opening his mouth to
anyone quickly subsided. Weeks passed. Everything seemed to go back
into a smooth surface of routine. We waved, chit chatted, talk about
the same bullshit. I mean don't get me wrong. Things were awkward and
retained a somewhat obvious chilliness. Our conversations were short,
to the point and compulsively nonserious.

        Before when my girlfriend had came into the room, Brandon would be
oblivious. But now I noticed that he always had an excuse or somewhere
to go whenever she showed up, as if he didn't need to interrupt us. I
couldn't make sense of it. Was he pissed I was with a girl and
couldn't stand it, or trying to give me a hint that he wanted me as
"serviced" as possible? I didn't know how exactly to make sense of
what had come between us. Best buddy roommates who had one wild night
and now were reduced to ghosts to one another. The emotions were
conflicting for a while. I was relieved that things had passed and
would never resurge. I was lonely and aching that Brandon had looked
on things only as some sort of perverse truth-or-dare game that went
too far.

        About two weeks after it had happened, the only semi-related comment
from Brandon came about how for our own sake we had better not drink
too much together. It came out of left field and didn't seem to be
said with any lurking intent. But it left me crazy. Did he think I was
a monster, a rapist, a pervert? Was he really straight and I had shown
myself to be a molester? All these thoughts pulsed through my veins
and strangled my mind. And, dark as it was, my hunger grew quiet and
subterranean and somehow much more violently sure of itself. I wanted
Brandon. Naked, spread-eagle, with his slender legs like isles opening
up for me to plough right between. I wanted the most desirable thing
about him beside his pretty mouth that I had already dunk my huge dick
into, which left my dick with a special glow during all my wet dreams
and jerk-off fantasies. The gayest of my gayest desires, to slap my
dick all around the hole of his asshole, to reach around and fondle
his balls and dick and hear him moan and whimper and squeal like a
little pussy, and slowly, licking his olive manpussy, to cram every
morsel of my throbbing dick right up his ass over and over again,
until he would crumple and melt into my arms and beg me to just
demolish his ass. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and everytime I
caught him in any position remotely resembling a pose to be fucked, I
had to look away. I felt I was so evil and disgusting. I wanted to
fuck my buddy up the same place he took shits. It was twisted and
wrong of me and perverse. But everything that had happened like a wild
dream since I had fucked his mouth left me aching and hungering for a
more secure and a more warm place to shove my stuff. My cock and balls
were begging me. I told myself: just wait and hold out. School will
finish quickly, then you'll get the fuck out of UConn and try not to
look back. I was even telling myself I could leave with my identity of
masculinity and heterosexuality in tact if things well.

        It's funny how intimacy, secretive and taboo between two males can
alienate whatever rapport and sense of trust you have rather than
strengthen it. I didn't have anymore idea of Brandon's sexuality or
his desire for me than before that night that was haunting me. If
anything, only more questions and distance opened up between us. It
was hanging down my neck. And then... of all things, I could fuck my
girlfriend normally. All the time. It wasn't exactly what I would jerk
myself off to, but the contact and sense of penetration felt easy
where before it was always forced and a combination of long foreplay
and alcohol. She couldn't have been happier, and started claiming that
our problems and been because of "depression" which she read in some
stupid articles that athlete guys like me go through without
externalizing at all. What a twit she could be, clueless to the last.

        As the days continued to pass, my disposition lightened and
everything stream-lined into a easier and more relaxed me. School was
going great. The team had done well to secure it's line in the
play-offs. My friends were all pretty much on the up-and-up
themselves, and Brandon himself even claimed he was starting to see
some off-campus girl. Whatever it was, made me happy.

        And then, everything changed. One weekend I went away to visit my
family in Providence. It was a short ride from UConn. By Friday night
I had had enough of the bickering my father and step-mother went
through and returned late that night on a bus. As I was coming around
to my dorm window from outside, I could see the lights somewhat on but
all the blinds turned down and the curtains semi-drawn closed. This
was surely odd. The entire year Brandon and I had occupied the room
never once had the curtains been semi-pulled over, let alone the
blinds turned so fully shut you could not see at all into the room.
And it clicked in my mind: Brandon was getting his game on, of course.
The off-campus girl, he was fucking her.

        I didn't know what to feel. Betrayed? Happy in some weird way for
him? Relieved? Panicky? It didn't make sense. He had spent his whole
life pretty much locked away in his own looks and closed off from any
meaningful sexual encounter as far as I was concerned, and he here
was, scoring ass while I was supposedly away for two days.

        I huddled up outside the window and listened as hard as I could.
Little did the fucker know that the latch on the window never worked
properly, and we were one of the few dorms that had a window were the
tab seal was snapped and you could drag open the glass ever so
slightly if you wanted to. And so I did so, quietly and sweating a bit
from the fear I would interrupt him and grab a lot of heat. It
wouldn't make sense if I who was supposed to be away visiting family
was now outside our very dorm room past midnight listening to him get
his grove on. Matter of fact, it probably would have seemed more
fucked up and harder to explain (I know this doesn't sound believable)
then the night Brandon gave me, or well, I forced him to give me head.
Whatever the case, I listened and hear a male and woman's voice.
Definitely Brandon, definitely his chick. They were giggling and
someone was semi-moaning. Sounded kinda kinky. I was totally turned on
and felt the hugest boner in my life in my pants. I listened harder
and more closely.

        "I'm gonna spank you. You're my bitch. You fucking hot stud."

        So even with his chick he was into weird, dominating sexual shit. It
figured. I peeped open one of the blinds ever so slightly, afraid any
minute even in the pitch-black dark someone was gonna recognize me
peeping and discover me but with one of my hands ever so slightly on
my bulge in my pants, how could I refuse a look?

        I saw a chick with long darkish hair bobbing up and down on Brandon's
dick and he was moaning ever so lowly. Seemed to me enjoying it. From
what I could tell, he was totally naked and ... and hand-cuffed to the
bottom bunk! I had to admit, it was totally hot. I couldn't really see
his face clearly from the angle, but god, that was him, locked up to
the bunk, laying on his back and totally gorgeous, his beautiful dark
brown skin glowing ever so carefully from the small desk lamp that was
turned off to the side and barely offered a glimpse into the dark
room. It was hot, I was ready to cream right then and there. She was
totally servicing him like a professional. She --

        Karen! What? My mind raced and I pulled away from the window and
tried to pretend I hadn't seen what I had just seen. Karen, my
girlfriend, my fucking girlfriend, that stupid little slut and piece
of shit was going down on my roommate. Brandon. That cocksucking
little twerp! How could she fall for his shit. My mind raced like a
fucking suicide bomber and tried to make sense of everything. I told
myself I could have been wrong but then it clicked, her voice, the
hand-cuffs (which she had begged me to use once ten or so months ago
but I declined) and everything. Everything that I had interpreted as
going on between Brandon and me now suddenly took a much darker and
cynical shape in my mind.

        Whatever tension I had honestly felt between us was nothing more than
him hungry for my girlfriend's pussy. The comments about my dick size.
Her needing another guy. Even the whole come on about teaching me how
to get head out of her, and here he was on my fucking bed while I was
away locked up in hand-cuffs getting my girlfriend deepthroat his
Italian cock. I wanted to puke, blow up, rage, kill someone. I felt
like a knife had been twisted ever so slightly by both of them in my
back. One, because I trusted and felt emasculated by my girlfriend.
And two, because I lusted and loved in some what Brandon, and he had
effaced any ideas or hope that he was going through some secret
psychological drama that meant anything to do with me. I felt even
more angry because this meant in fact I had been the one to force sex
on him, and rather than making me feel comforted because he was
stabbing me in the back and at least I had blasted his mouth and
tongue and teeth with man-seed, it made me feel so guilty and
downright unmanly.

        "Fuck!" I kept screaming as I turned the corner of the building and
sped up my pace to get into the building. I stayed outside our dorm
suite for minutes trying to listen but hearing nothing. No one else
was around, not the other guys that lived around us, it was all so
quiet in the hall and quiet in my room where my girlfriend was giving
Brandon Corso head. I couldn't even add up the thousands of ways in
which I felt abused, betrayed and monstrous.

        I walked down the hall to the public bathroom and stood in there for
what felt like an eternity staring in the mirror and pacing up and
down the lanes along the stalls trying to figure out what to do.
"Think you stupid shit, think," I kept telling myself. But nothing
would happen. Confronting them would only in a way prove how desperate
and destroyed I was. And there was no possibility of revenge if I
didn't have proof of what had happened. Just then as I was looking at
myself and about to start crying, I heard a shuffling outside the
bathroom and quickly moved around to the other side of the large sink,
the side that was not facing the door and blocked by the huge slab of
marble and mirror.

        Someone had come in and opened one of the large handi-cap stalls and
go in. I grew curious and suspicious for whatever reason. I figured
there was a slight chance for some reason it could have been Brandon
and now I could confront him and beat the ever-loving shit out of him.
I walked around to one side of the handi-cap stall, and peered ever so
quickly to see if I could see in. The stall wasn't normal, it was very
often a place where a lot of the guys would mess around. Whoever had
designed it had placed the lock on the outside of the door, and it was
common that some guy would get pushed into it as he was coming out of
the showers and locked until someone else decided to let him in. It
hadn't happened in a while but when it did it was hilarious to see. I
looked in, and I couldn't believe it, it was Karen, my girlfriend. I
immediately on instinct shut the door and locked it from the outside.
She began screaming and banging on the door, pleeing and begging for
whatever "Sick fuck" had shut the door to open it up before she called
the cops. Like I could give a shit. I hoped the bitch rotted in hell.
I went over to the sick where the radio was kept and slowly turned the
volume on just loud enough to blanket her screams from inside the
stall, figuring as long as no one went into the bathroom to notice her
persistent banging, I was safe. It was a Friday night. No one was
going to waltz in most likely. And none of the few people that might
have been around could have heard her banging from outside the
bathroom with the radio volume on the rock station blaring just loud
enough.

        My thoughts took on precision and clarity and I raced out of the
bathroom back to my room to encounter the one person I really wanted
to face down, in the flesh. Brandon. What the fuck had he done.

        I opened the door slowly, unassumingly and saw the lights were even
darker than I remembered from when I was peering from outside the
window. I could hear his snickering as soon as I got in the room, and
gazed over at him ass-naked on my bed with his hands locked to the
bed-posts and his own sizable dick rigid as fuck slapped up against
his chiseled and perfect abdomen. He was blindfolded and grinning and
expected Karen obviously.

        "I'm ready for some more loving." It was odd how unnatural his voice
sounded, but I figured things couldn't have been exactly normal. Here
he was fucking his roommate's girl, the roommate who had shoved his
dick down his throat no less.

        I stared at him for a few seconds, and he was just humming. I could
see a few empty wine bottles at the foot of the bed. As I edged
closer, I could see sweat on his face and beaded across his upper lip.
Karen's clothes were all over the floor: her bra, jacket, purse,
underpants.

        He was so exposed and vulnerable and he didn't even know it. It just
clicked in my head. The hottest piece of shit on this campus by far
was handcuffed to my bed, with a blindfold on, probably drunk with his
knees spread apart and his not so long as thick dick hugging his
fatless belly. I was so suddenly calmed and in awe, all my rage and
violent thoughts evaporated. I realized I was standing in awe. I was
totally hard. I couldn't stop looking in perfect worship of his
immaculate body. The idea of the handcuffs, it just climaxed
everything times ten.

        He was whispering or moaning: "C'mon..." and then his short breath
would break for a chuckle and snorting of air, "I'm over here. Over
here."

        As I saddled next to the bed, the smell of wine was intense. They had
drank a lot of fucking booze for this little romp. Nice to see it
hadn't destroyed Brandon's libido. He was such a cruel brat for
cheating on me, but he was sexier. His small, compact and tight body
was  the most gorgeous thing I had ever gazed on in my entire life.

        I unbuttoned my pants and took a second look to see all the loud, red
marks that were imprinting across his ass as he pulled up his legs a
bit more and let them back down. She really had been spanking him and
pretty hard.

        I edged onto the bed and heard him half-slur "Alright, come on, show
me a rough fuck."

        I took up the board they must have been using and brushed his knees
apart really quickly, he immediately pulled up his legs and I slapped
at his perfect tush in one hard quick strike. His threw his
blindfolded head up in a moan of pure delight. I kept noticing it,
there it was, my heaven. His small bud among ever so slight-clumps of
hair, his hidden bud behind his perfectly rounded and luscious, sleek
ass-cheeks.

        After a few more slaps to get his attention he actually squealed. As
my shoes were off I pulled off my socks and laid them on the bed next
to me. Then licking my left hand I immediately threw it up around his
crack and started wiggling my fingers in and around the crevice of his
asshole. He was writhing in passion and heat and the sweat kept
plumping the side of his temples and cheeks. He was not really
emitting too much noise, but it was clear, he was whimpering and
moaning and sighing and not too attentive (How could he had have
been?) to what was happening or who was doing it. No matter how much
he had drunk, he was horny, loose and ready for some kinky sex. I knew
I couldn't just undress and fuck him, but I had to show him a lesson.

        Immediately as I go fully onto the bed and leaned my body around him
I reached out with one of my hands to caress his abdomen and chest and
played with his nipples. He kept whispering "Karen... Karen...
Karen..." This fucker had no idea and I couldn't give a shit. Some god
was naked on my bed and senseless with sex-pleasure and I was going to
do for a little while whatever I could to get a reaction out of him
and exploit the situation completely in my favor.

        My right hand kept moving in playful circles around his chest and
tweaking his nipples while my wet left hand that had toyed with the
walls and radius of his ass moved up towards his ballsack and I almost
lost it with my own pleasure and frenzy. Here I was fondling the most
vulnerable parts of the hottest boy-toy on campus. I was in heaven. I
was crazy in pleasure. I was actually thanking at this point Karen for
cheating on me, for my parents having fought to bring me back home,
for her have going into the stupid stall, for fate for allowing me
this rare pleasure, to come to close almost to everything I wanted and
lusted after ever since I had met Brandon Corso. I kept playing with
his ballsack like I was exploring the pleasure of the human form and
flesh for the very first time, like a total child. He was clueless as
to whose hands these were and just moaning, I kept looking how pouty
and pretty and gorgeous his head all shaking on its neck like a pretty
flower on a stem, not able to see anything, but thrashing a bit from
all the pleasure he had never really had.

        I then took off my shirt as the hulk of my form hovered over his
suspended and tied down body. I ripped off my shirt and threw it on
the floor. I peeled off my undershirt. My muscles felt all the
sensation of the hot, charged air coat them. I kept telling myself
Brandon's wine-scented breath was ever-so-slightly present. How far
could I go? I told myself in five minutes I would stop, get out of the
room, let Karen out of the bathroom, and run the fuck out of there
pretending the whole time as I had stayed away that weekend. But the
session got hotter and hotter, Brandon was moaning and in heat and it
seemed ready to blow a huge boy load and let all his sex out and
frank.

        My huge dick was really grating up against the zipper of my jeans. It
needed out. My leg muscles and my calves, my whole body was a million
degrees and ready to just plunge and leap onto Brandon's limp and pure
sexy body and ravage  him. But I resisted, I had to. I wasn't about to
fuck a guy. Not even the guy of my dreams. I couldn't. I couldn't rape
anyone, and that's what it would be I figured. But a part of me was
slowly, at least, convincing myself that even if he couldn't see it
was me, he loved my touch and was responding to me. Just me. In a sort
of mystical trance of sex and contact and response to
counter-response.

        I leaned my face right next to his without touching his face. My
cheek hung next to his and I turned my nose against his hair and
inhaled deeply as I could. His male-boy-scent was driving me nuts. I
had the hugest dick growing in my pants and it needed out. I told
myself to restrain. I kept just being overwhelmed, my body was like a
coal consumed my flames, until the flames kept stinging and wrapping
me deeper and deeper into the fire just reached into me fully and my
holy body glowed in submission to my desires.

        I smelled his armpits, his biceps, his nipples, his neck. I kissed
and playfully grazed my lips and mouth over his perfect flesh. My
hands couldn't do anything as they were supporting me from collapsing
on him which would give it away. His arms couldn't do anything either.
I pulled up from my trance and idolatry and dream.

        It was perfect. This was enough. I didn't need sex or anything. This
was too much. I controlled myself and stopped for a second and
breathed heavily, and calmly, forcing myself to not be too overwhelmed
to do something stupid or fall down on him so he'd know who I was.
That would have been the end of it. Any second I feared Karen would
come back in the room and destroy my paradise.

        I took both my hands over the thick circumference of his cock and
started hijacking it off his stomach and pushing it in firm thick
strokes down and up and down until the mushroom head of his dick was
bobbing and his whole body was twisting and writhing in pleasure and
his lips were twisting and his knees were piercing into my sides but I
couldn't stop. He kept breathing hard, almost squealing: "aaah, aaah,
aaaah..."

        It was so fucking intense. I was sweating beads of pure salt onto his
chest. My body was on fire. His body was on fire. The fucking energy
in the room could have burnt the fucking dormitory down.

        I pulled back away from him again and realized he was too drunk to
perhaps notice how odd it would be if I moved around taking off my
clothes, surely most of Karen's were off, but he might not realize
what the body movements on the squeaking bed were referring to anyway.
Maybe she had re-dressed partly when she went into the stall.

        I lowered my mouth within in an inch of his dick and began lapping it
up. I just engulfed it and sucked it down like it was a fucking cream
sunday. My lips and mouth went over the sides, tracing the big thick
vein and then each nut and I made a holy science out of giving this
studling head. I then just let my lips part and I sucked up and down
on his dick so hard I could hear his hed backing back against the
pillows and his hips pistoling at a rocket's pace up into my mouth. It
went on this way for minutes as I let one of my hands go waywardly
towards his ass and started playing with the tense outside of his
asshole, until finally his squirming body relented a bit and I shoved
the pointer-finger right into his hole and started pushing mercilessly
forward. This sent his totally hay-wire body into overdrive and it
seemed his cock expanded from all the attention. He moaned something
slightly. Ever-so slightly. "...Derek... Derek..." I could have swarn
he said it. Whatever the case was it made me go wild, whether he
realized he was doing it or not, I knew he doubted it was actually me
pleasuring him, but in his mind, that's who he wanted, it was obvious,
it all made sense, our passion was so intense, my eyes were watering,
ever gland and sensible part of my body was loose and sweating and
pouring off scent and heat and breath and I was going crazy in delight
and my heart was pounding a marathon of love and terror.

        As my cockhead flopped out of my underpants, I scooted them down to
my knees and pulled off form his dick, which glistened up against his
torso again thicker than ever, I spread his raised knees apart like I
was coming upon the holy of holies, and I just let my mouth devour his
asshole. Letting my tongue jag and dart and lick and suck at his hole
mercilessly. He was thumping and humping into my face wildly. I knew I
was approaching a line I couldn't cross. If I kept this up, I was
going to try to penetrate my roommate. "Stop" came across my mind like
a pure knife in the mist of so much sex, so much heat, so much sensory
overload. I knew inserting my ol cock that was aching and looked like
a foot at this rate was certain doom. It would rouse him and somber
him up and even if he wanted it, it was too big of a risk.

        I pulled back. I was panting like a monster. I let one of my hands
hover over his asshole, his entryway, his manpussy and flower-hole. It
was tight and musky and all the little hairs were slicked over with my
spit. I needed to keep some presence there while I was gathering my
thoughts.

        "Touch it, touch it, touch it..." his breath was so slurring his
words, but I could understand him. As one of my hands was on his ass,
the other was stroking my own dick like no-tomorrow and I realize I
had the hugest boner I could ever recall, with my own heart-beat
causing the dickhead to bob by its own accord up and down. What the
fuck was I going to do? I can't fuck this kid. I can't. But my whole
body was begging me, compelling me towards his virgin ass that was so
moist and vulnerable and hot on my own sheets and bedspread in the
dark.

        He was moaning and squealing, in a low hum but persistent. This was
pleasing him more perhaps than it was pleasing me, which seemed
impossible. This was my fantasy. I kept stroking my hand which was wet
over my dick and let my other hand hug up against his crack and I
stared and stared at his face. I figured I would spray all over his
body and that would be enough. I kept jacking it at the fastest
possible ever to just be over with it and give in to the orgasm. This
was too much to withhold at this point. And then it just came over me
like a spell I had to kiss him.

         I leaned forward and let my dick graze over his dick and kissed him,
and he kissed back, surprisingly, long and full and with our tongues
mingling as our cocks grazed together and humped. His hips kept
lurching off the bed, and this was causing his dick to throw its
weight against mine, which turned me on totally, I didn't mind blowing
my load this way, or his. What the hell was I doing? These were the
best feelings in my life.

        As we kissed and our dicks grinded together, I let my knee graze back
up and forth against his asscheeks, and he was meeting my knee in the
strangest of rhythms, as our lips parted and I buried my face into his
neck, he whispering for more and I couldn't understand what he was
saying. Finally I lowered a hand a put a wet finger into his asshole
and let it go further than I had before. His hips pushed and pushed
against my finger. This was too hot. I was going to lose it.

        "More!"

        What more could the fucking kid ask of me.

        "What more do you want" I muttered in the sweat and grind and slick
of our bodies mashing and bending and humping up against one another.
And then suddenly his slender legs climbed my raging naked sweaty body
and scissorred themselves above my waist in a strong knot. As I tried
to lean and shake him away not sure what he wanted or was doing I
relaxed and brought my body down to the bed, as his legs lowered my
dick and balls fell away from his dick and passed between his legs and
now my eight inch monster was poking right up against his ass-crack
and leaking pre-cum like leaky faucet that was ready to spew some
serious man-cum.

        He untwisted his legs from my chest and kept his knees folded up, but
totally spread apart, allowing for my body to lay inbetween his body
and for my cock to rest, hungry and tugging at his ass cheeks.

        "More you slut."

        I can't. I can't fuck this kid. I leaned forward and let my body lay
against his as my cock continued to lay ever-so-slightly between his
ass cheeks, it felt like it was the warmest and safest place any part
of my body had ever resided in my entire life. I won't do this, I told
myself. It's wrong.

        "Please... Derek... please."

        With my lips against his neck sighing and moaning to hear my name in
the middle of all this sex, I reached my hands below to squeeze his
ass-cheeks and ever so slightly apart and finally my cockhead found
the entryway to his asshole. Lifting my hands onto his hips and
pushing down, my large cockhead applied a lot of pressure to his
ass-bud and I knew if I kept this up any second I was going to just do
it, let myself go, and penetrate Brandon, and finally have what I
wanted. I kept grazing my cock against his asshole, and then, with one
sure thrust, it was in, I knew it was inevitable, I couldnt stop it,
and it felt like it was the greatest glove and warm mouth even tigher
than Brandon's mouth covered my cock and I  was in, with my cock
inching in, slowly and surely, my pubic hair grazing the soft black
curly tufts of his ass. This was it. I was in. No going back. No going
back. I'm gonna cum in Brandon's ass. Make  him my bitch. My slave. My
lover. My lover.  I paused and breathed deeper than I ever have in my
life. I moved my motuh up towards his face, and I could barely see in
the dark large globs of sweat that looked like tears strolling down
from his eyes and side of his temples as he moaned and moaned and I
started ever-loving fuck out of his puny ass just as I always wanted
it, lusted it, craved it, needed it, jacking my man-cock into his
boy-ass mercilessly like a fucking animal or creature consumed by his
desires.

        "O fuck! O fuck! O fuck!" I moaned as he moaned and moaned and moaned
as my dick raced to the hilt of his boy ass in and out, in and out and
my hot liquid filled up the walls of his ass and we sighed and panted
and yet again, for the second time in two months, I collapsed on
Brandon in the dark, more contented than I had ever been with any
woman.