Date: Sat, 28 Jan 2012 18:17:35 +0900
From: Akiro Watabe <akirowatabe@hotmail.com>
Subject: Saturday Morning Moment

Sunlight.

I blink, turning to nestle an arm under the warm body lying next to
mine. He appears to be fast asleep, near motionless under white covers. A
slow rise and fall of his bare chest is the only clear indication that this
is real, he is here, and I beside him. The familiar shrill calls of the
rousing seagulls outside remind me where I am, and I feel a slow smile make
its way onto my face.

I've always loved the ocean.

My right hand slowly makes its way beneath the loose band of his dark
boxers, reaching into its familiar depths. I find what I am looking for, my
callused fingers closing slowly around his rock-hard erection, a shape
oddly familiar to my own. He gives a small start awake.

"Morning." I venture.

He looks at me and grins lopsidedly. "Your hand is around my dick."

I feign surprise. "Indeed it is."

"Well, you insatiable bastard-" he shifts to face me, "-what are you going
to do about it?"

My silent answer is only the tightening of my grip, at which he gives a
small groan in his throat and attempts to squirm away. I press even closer,
my arousal all too evident against his naked back. I see him mouth my name
against his muscled arm, as my gaze traces the firm square outline of his
jaw, the stubble that grazes me as I press my nose against his skin and
deeply inhale the warm musk that emanates.

The mere scent of him used to drive me near mad with lust, with nothing I
could do but indulge in my own private fantasies. It had seemed so
throughly surreal that we had ended up here. Past the underlying sexual
tension that had existed before, past the awkward, often intimate
physicalities of our old friendship.

I gently rub the underside of his cock's head with a finger, watching his
eyes roll back in his head at the sensations. He was already wet and slick
with anticipation, a surprisingly erotic fact that I had not known
before. I very much enjoyed making him drip with sheer need.

"This. This is mine." I whisper fiercely in his ear as I rapidly increase
the rhythm of my right hand. The fingers of my left are firmly tousled
within his rumpled black hair, pulling his head back as I roughly jerk him
off. He starts emitting little whimpering noises and grunts that make me
painfully hard, and I watch his angular face as he gasps that he is coming,
spasming and shuddering in my arms as his stomach tightens and I can see
the outline of each abdominal muscle.

I feel, rather than see, the warm ropes of his cum as they wetly paint my
enclosed fist. His fingers dig into my bicep, almost as a silent plea to
stop. Then he is still, staring at the cracked ceiling and breathing
heavily.

In one swift movement, he is suddenly straddled on top of me, his face
curiously expressionless. His lean frame weighs down hard and seems all too
insistent, demanding. He is still panting, but his eyes never leave mine as
he solidly rubs his cum-drenched abs against my own. My balls are so tight
I make an anguished sound and curse, trying to push him off me. But he is
strong and broad-shouldered, and soon I can do nothing but make senseless
noises of pleasure beneath him as he pins my hands to the side of my
head. He leans in close to the side of my face, and all I see are his high
cheekbones and the shadows they form with the sunlight from the window
above us.

He said he likes to hold me down while I cum, so he can see me while I am
at my most vulnerable. Or in his own words, "a violent orgasmer". This
thought is my last coherent one, before the friction against his naked heat
and moist hardness is too much. I explode, shooting thick gobs of jism
between us as I make choked growls and try to fight him off me. He holds me
tightly as shudders rack my body and subside. Finally, he slides off and
rolls to my side.

"Shit, I don't think I've ever come that much before." I observe hoarsely,
out of breath.

"Quite a load for me too." He agrees.

I close my eyes.