Don't Read in the Closet volume one (78 page)

“Aaawww, just
once?”

“No, ‘cuz your
‘just once’ ends up all night.” I pulled him up and attacked his belt buckle.

“You always
like my mouth drooling over you.”

“I know, but
tonight I’m pampering you, my sexy man. Relax and enjoy, and think about what
happened six years ago on this date.”

“Six years?
Mmmm,” he
sighed
his customary hum. “Six and a half
years ago we met. Which means on this night, six years ago we…”

“Right on,
sexy. We, as they say politely, ‘consummated’ our love. In other words we
fucked ourselves silly all night. Remember?”

“How can I
forget.
My butt hurt for days. But I didn’t complain, back
for seconds the following night, as I recall.”

“And the next
and next.” We laughed, the memories horny and wanting.

That night, of
mind-blowing sensualness, of tireless hours fulfilling my cravings, ending my
long journey of erotic and loving thoughts, remains engraved in my mind. The
visions remind me of the thoughts roving impishly now, inflamed by him holding
my cock down the ramp into the pool. We embrace and sink to our necks and
cradle our heads as lips glide to touch, arms wander cooling skin and hands
envelop tender parts, Vicious and Thug watchful above.

Memories stir,
of lathering him in gel in the shower cubicle. Of slinking my hands in the
slimy, slippery, bubbly, sudsy goo, oozing the slushy stuff between my fingers,
pampering his skin, imbibing his sensualness. Of sliding my hands and arms and
legs around him, and rubbing chest and belly and bum against him and grinding
my groin and cock on him. Of sinking my fingers and hardness down his crack and
between his legs and cupping his balls before assaulting his hardened rod of
over-stretched excitement. I recall body-painting the walls with our sexy
sliminess, all washed away when I turn the water on.

I remember
drying his soft and smooth flesh, and towing him by his lusting, leaking cock
to our bed, our phallic dementia shrieking for an end to the tensions,
frustrations and deprivations. I can never forget that powering energy burning
within us to end the months of lecherous fantasising and libido-driven desires
and torments. I recall that dynamism sweeping us in a whirlwind to the plinth
of ultimate gratification.

He squealed
delight when I scooped him in my arms, his legs kicking,
his
arms tight around my neck, lips crunching. I set him on the bed and laid on
him, clenching him with arm and leg locks, tongues duelling, our hard cocks
cushioning our bellies. He rolled over and straddled me, leaning forward, his
hands resting on my shoulders, his eyes flaming his desires and intentions, his
lips assaulting my face and neck.

His rush of
breaths intensified as they darted to suckle a nipple, and tongue danced my nub
to elevated heights and hardness. Frenzied fingers ravaged my other nipple,
sending warning signals buzzing in my groin. His instruments of orgasmic
torture played havoc with my navel, erupting writhing quakes of sensitivity throughout
my belly and groin. A hand caressed my balls, his tongue slid along my
tumescence lying prostrate on my belly and returned, his lips enveloping and
mouth swallowing my hardness, my brain exploding into kaleidoscopes of
fireworks. I bit my knuckles and grabbed the doona, and cupped his face and
clutched his hair and
wallowed
my head and moaned and
groaned and stretched my feet and curled my toes as his purgatorial pleasuring
overwhelmed conscious thinking.

He rose to his
knees, panting,
his
cock a rampant upright weapon of
sexual intent. He leaned to the nightstand, returning with a condom and bottle.
Minutes later he nestled in me, an expression of voluptuous delight blazing his
face, reminiscent of my elation my first time.

****

He lies between
my legs on the couch, leaning on me, chuckling at times to the audio book’s
recitation on his headphones, his cheerfulness rustling a tail or
flickering
an ear on Vicious and Thug lying alongside.
Finishing my read, I roam my hands over his shoulders and chest, his flesh
feeling vibrant and vital after the swim and shower, and quick frolic on the
bed before dinner, exchanging ‘I love you’ again and again, promising to prove
how much later.

I cherish him,
this gorgeous man, this treasure chest of love, now resting a hand on my arm,
turning a smile to me. So often his quaint gesture reminds me of Leo patting my
arm at that Sunday lunch, to learn, when Polly and Tony departed to walk Snowy,
why friends were absent. I sat mute after Leo told me, then raged fury,
bellowing my hatred and despair to the heavens, crying hysterically, shouting,
fending off his placating embraces, dashing to my Harley, leaving Leo a broken
man at the entrance. I remember somehow arriving home, and wailing all night, shunning
phone calls and door thumps, feeling deceived and cheated, detesting the
cruelty and despising the constant upheavals and knocks life dealt. All day I
languished, sorrow calming me before guilt and betrayal of trust inflamed my
shame, memories of my oath to Tony the day we met scorning me. I tapped his
door in the summer evening and stepped into his understanding arms. The
following morning, Leo’s grin engulfed his face when Tony and I boarded the
shuttle together.

“I’m so proud
you accepted him to be your partner, despite his issues,” Leo confided after
introducing me to the guests as Tony’s mate the following Sunday. He patted my
arm, further stating his gratefulness for the love and the richness of life I
brought to his son. I reminded him of the joy Tony gave me.

Every day I
reflect the wonderful adventure life has been together, of the dynamics of our
friendship; the happiness, the love, the ever-ready companionship, feel-good
reliance and the beautiful intimacy enjoyed. I recall his fears of callous
bullying, of being mugged, unable to react swiftly to defend himself, of
sustaining injury exacerbating and accelerating the onset of his inheritance,
my mind determined to protect him. My thoughts evoke memories of those troubled
emotions reflected in his eyes. They remind me of his feelings he later
expressed regretting the gift life will take, yet accepting his fate, humbly,
without anger or bitterness.

“Retinitis
Pigmentosa. Tunnel Vision.” Leo stated that devastating day, confiding Tony is
expected to succumb to permanent blindness within three years. Days later,
after I reaffirmed my indelible vow to Tony, Leo announced his plan to
immediately build a stair-less, safe, blind-friendly home, “so Tony can
acquaint to the room and furniture layouts.”

Affections
bloom as I view the naked majesty of my soul mate, serene in his favourite
couch position, forever enchanted by his beauty, always awed by his sweet
nature. “Time for bed, angel,” I announce, massaging his shoulders. “Time to
let me ravish your wickedly sexy body, to remind you how much ‘I love you’.”

THE END

Author bio:
Hi. I write mainstream m/m romance
stories. ‘33 a gay love story’ is my first m/m work which I self published in
2010. Umm, since writing ‘33’ I have considerably reduced the sex content in my
stories, preferring to evoke emotions rather than graphically describe actions.

I
hope to find a publisher for a subsequent, completed novella, ‘Boyfriends Paul
& Sam’, the first of a line I intend writing under the ‘Boyfriends’ title.

I
am proud to have participated in the M/M Romance Group’s ‘It Gets Better’ video.
My contribution indicates a little of my background.

Website:
www.33agaylovestory.com

‘It
Gets Better’ Video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLrUv0dWT...

GR
blog, excerpts etc.:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/444...

Email:
jjsouth33 at gmail dot com

Hope
you enjoy ‘Reflections’.

Cheers
from Downunder.

Selected by Zach Sweets

Dear Author,

With that unholy gleam
in his eye and all that luscious chocolate, I NEED to know what this hunk is up
to. Can you please help me find out?

[PHOTO: Handsome, scruffy looking man with
a hand covered in chocolate and a sensual silver-eyed stare. He is licking
chocolate off of his index finger.]

Sincerely,

Wendy

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
Food Kinky, Coming Out, Bear,
Deaf, Disability

Words:
6,447

LUSCIOUS LOVE

by Zach Sweets

Wendell Choate
shielded his sterling silver eyes from the bright sunlight as he breathed in
the powerful salty scent in the air. He ran his fingers through his wavy
chestnut brown hair as he enjoyed the ocean waves splashing against the shore.
People played and laughed in the water. Watching them was a pleasure and helped
to alleviate some of the sorrow Wendell felt as he sat alone in the sand.

He’d been struggling
to find a job since he got laid off a year ago. The beach was the only place he
could go to find peace. He had been surviving on the small income he got from
Social Security and Disability. It was enough to pay his rent, but there wasn’t
much left over for his other bills.

His resume was
good enough that he’d received several phone calls regarding job interviews.
Once they found out that he was Deaf, they politely declined. It was
discrimination, but Wendell would rather work for someone who wasn’t so closed
minded, so he’d decided not to report them. He just wanted a job where he could
be happy.

Wendell scanned
the newspaper he’d brought with him and a new job captured his attention.

Luscious
Love

Help
Wanted

Must
know chocolate

Contact
Caleb Adams at (800) 555-1462 for an interview

Wendell
instantly wanted that job. Chocolate was an addiction to him, a personal
stress-reliever. He grabbed his iPhone and used the Video Relay application to
call Caleb. No one answered, so he left a message, hoping Caleb would call him
back.

While waiting
for the return call, he spotted a man in a dark blue Speedo. Wendell could see
a well-defined bulge through the clingy material. Even better, a thick mat of
hair covered the man’s chest. It’d been too long since Wendell had gotten laid.
Just the sight of the man made his mouth water.

As the man
walked by, smiling at him, Wendell reached absently for his phone. He searched
his pocket as he watched the man disappear down the beach and nearly freaked
out when he realized the cell was missing.

He scurried
around, searching his other pocket, finally finding it on the ground beside
him. He checked to see if there were any missed calls.

He had one.
Shit.
Luckily, whoever called had left a message.

He opened the
video mail and watched as the interpreter signed,

-Hello
Wendell, this is Caleb Adams from Luscious Love. I got your message about the
job interview. I’m available tomorrow at noon. Call me back if you can’t make
it; otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.-

Wendell jumped
with joy, drawing people’s attention. Some threw him dirty looks, probably
wondering what the heck was going on with him. He shrugged them off; he was so
happy to have gotten a job interview at a chocolate place. Maybe he’d get to
sample everything once he got there.

He was too
excited to just go home, so he walked to the street where all the touristy
shops decorated the strip, looking for Luscious Love. He wanted to prepare
himself for his interview tomorrow. There was no way he could afford to screw
up his dream of a job surrounded by chocolate.

Finally, he saw
it. The rich, warm tones of the façade, together with the wide windows, hinted
at the decadence that was sure to decorate the shelves inside. He already
pictured himself working there, standing behind the counter, looking out at the
adorable shop and the stream of endless chocolate lovers flowing through the
door.
Paradise.

Through the
window he spied a tall, bald man with a full beard. From what he could see, the
man was just his type—broad shoulders and heavy muscles. The man was wiping
down counters, probably getting ready to close up for the night. If it was
Caleb, Wendell couldn’t wait to meet him in person. He couldn’t wait to get a
closer view of the man’s face.
A bear man and chocolate?
He smiled at
the thought.
Nothing better.