Those Eyes
I told Steve that Thai people live in harmony, they live well and were very welcoming in nature – I’d been researching on the internet, big smile – as he snatched the mull bowl off the table and was turning to take it away to parts unknown... away from me. He flashed those eyes at me, his don’t-fuck-with-me eyes. He has don’t-fuck with-me eyes, they are adorable, he smoulders. It’s a glance, sideways more often than not, a flash, I tell you the whites of his eyes glow. I’ve learnt to be on my guard, don’t totally disarm, proceed with caution, when I get that look. “Where are you going with that sweet heart?”
“Just cleaning up.”
He’s a serious boy, my Steve. It seems Josh’s planed fun could be unexpectedly curtailed from an as-before unaccounted for front.
“I hadn’t finished with that.”
On this occasion, on decidedly shaky ground, Mr Office and Tie decided, wisely, as he was in the (stoned) bears actual cave, to retreat... exasperated smile, he hands it back to me.
“I’m turning into my mother.”
Traditionally, sero-discordant, pot-head, non-pot-head, boyfriend couples don’t fare so well. Neither do straight versions of, either, however. One always gets very bored and, disastrously, the other one usually learns not to care.
And I was doing so well. I blame Nick. Every time I have quit, he brings it over. He admitted to me recently, he wanted to keep me smoking it as he wanted a smoking buddy. And half the time I pay for it and it works out much cheaper for him.
To everyone’s health.
Steve's stocks, shall we say, rose sharply from this point during the evening.
He came and sat next to me, winding down. He looked adorable, just sitting there. My boy is as handsome as hell.
"How did you get so pretty?"
"Shut up." He smiled, despite himself.
So, I went for his fly, after that, if verbal communication wasn't going to work.
"No, babe."
He didn't mean it, I could tell. Besides, I felt that curved sausage under the thin wool fabric of his trousers, and there was no stopping me from there. I ran my fingers along both sides of it.
One hand went for his fly, one hand went for his belt buckle.
“Not, now babe, I’m tired.”
I pushed down with the palm of my hand, he was lying, that sausage had turned into a kransky.
His pants fell open, I slid my right hand straight under the elastic of his jocks. I love that feeling, of my hand sliding through his pubic hair to my babe’s genitals. And then they are in my hand. They felt good, hot and sweaty. I massaged his cock with the palm of my hand, as I rolled his balls through my fingers.
I leant up and kissed him. He kissed back strongly.
"See, I knew you were keen."
His cock inflated like a tyre tube under my hand. I pulled it out of his jocks in my clench fist around the shaft. I squeezed it. He moaned.
“Fuck, Josh.” He said breathlessly.
Then I dropped my head and sucked his cock into my mouth. The shiny head, the fat shaft, the hardness. Then I sucked him long and slow, up and down. I sucked slow on his knob, as he flinched underneath me. His foreskin just covers the entire length, I love sucking on that too, like skin... is skin... his soft skin...
...Let’s just say, he was all cuddly and sleepy-eyed when I was done. Those sharp edges gone.
“Just cleaning up.”
He’s a serious boy, my Steve. It seems Josh’s planed fun could be unexpectedly curtailed from an as-before unaccounted for front.
“I hadn’t finished with that.”
On this occasion, on decidedly shaky ground, Mr Office and Tie decided, wisely, as he was in the (stoned) bears actual cave, to retreat... exasperated smile, he hands it back to me.
“I’m turning into my mother.”
Traditionally, sero-discordant, pot-head, non-pot-head, boyfriend couples don’t fare so well. Neither do straight versions of, either, however. One always gets very bored and, disastrously, the other one usually learns not to care.
And I was doing so well. I blame Nick. Every time I have quit, he brings it over. He admitted to me recently, he wanted to keep me smoking it as he wanted a smoking buddy. And half the time I pay for it and it works out much cheaper for him.
To everyone’s health.
Steve's stocks, shall we say, rose sharply from this point during the evening.
He came and sat next to me, winding down. He looked adorable, just sitting there. My boy is as handsome as hell.
"How did you get so pretty?"
"Shut up." He smiled, despite himself.
So, I went for his fly, after that, if verbal communication wasn't going to work.
"No, babe."
He didn't mean it, I could tell. Besides, I felt that curved sausage under the thin wool fabric of his trousers, and there was no stopping me from there. I ran my fingers along both sides of it.
One hand went for his fly, one hand went for his belt buckle.
“Not, now babe, I’m tired.”
I pushed down with the palm of my hand, he was lying, that sausage had turned into a kransky.
His pants fell open, I slid my right hand straight under the elastic of his jocks. I love that feeling, of my hand sliding through his pubic hair to my babe’s genitals. And then they are in my hand. They felt good, hot and sweaty. I massaged his cock with the palm of my hand, as I rolled his balls through my fingers.
I leant up and kissed him. He kissed back strongly.
"See, I knew you were keen."
His cock inflated like a tyre tube under my hand. I pulled it out of his jocks in my clench fist around the shaft. I squeezed it. He moaned.
“Fuck, Josh.” He said breathlessly.
Then I dropped my head and sucked his cock into my mouth. The shiny head, the fat shaft, the hardness. Then I sucked him long and slow, up and down. I sucked slow on his knob, as he flinched underneath me. His foreskin just covers the entire length, I love sucking on that too, like skin... is skin... his soft skin...
...Let’s just say, he was all cuddly and sleepy-eyed when I was done. Those sharp edges gone.
Comments
Post a Comment