Imagine Him and Me
The Following

You should be grateful that I'm even here tonight. Sitting here, buying bourbon I know I won't drink, telling you of inappropriate things despite the promise of an early night after a tiring day. I hope you appreciate my efforts in speaking loud enough to be heard, yet soft enough to keep that dancing vision of loveliness remains ignorant of our conversation – or my monologue. I'm sure it will be so in a moment's time. You will again neglect your duties and listen to me like a child to a bedtime story. Seeing what blessed my eyes, and feeling – yes, feeling – feeling what I felt. Not as powerfully as I felt it, naturally, but you can always imagine. But let me continue now, before my darling lover wishes to return home; before he presses his body to mine and whispers words I will not be able to resist – a habit he's taken to lately. Oh, such words. But where was I? Yes, let me continue.

We kissed many times that night – you'll forgive me for repeating myself now and then, but such kisses were not meant to be forgotten. And in the same way, such lips were meant to be kissed, and such a body was meant to be loved over and over. It was to be a long night; we knew this by our kisses, sweet, rough, hot.

And how warm his body was! I held him to me as he breathed sweet breaths, resting his cheek against mine. But remember, I hadn't yet been satisfied. I wanted him, wanted to take him, to feel him inside. Oh how I ached just thinking of it. And as if he could read my mind, I felt his hand, gentle and light, find its way to my chest. His palms and fingers smoothed over my nipples, taking a moment to tease me idly while he rested. Then his lips grazed my cheek, and they brushed my ear, which soon felt the tip of his tongue running along the outer shell. I think I sighed here, for he kissed my neck so tenderly.

He only stopped to remove the rest of my clothing, and this was a strange sort of pleasure for me, for he smiled so beautifully then. And then his fingers, tapered and gentle, touched me. I hissed at his touch. More; give me this touch. Hold my length, stroke me, pleasure me with these sweet fingers. But he didn't, the sweet devil. He granted me nothing more but feathering of the skin, brushing his cruel fingertips here, there, over, under. Such wonderful torment. I loved it, hated it, craved it. And then he smiled again, assuring me with a light kiss to the lips. Yes, I could expect more.

He drew close to me, and lay his length against mine. I loved the mere sight of it. I put my hand over his, and together we stroked our flesh. A simple pleasure; my taut skin against his softer organ. But he soon grew hard against me, and I wanted more of him. I guided him to lie over me, and he smiled at my gentility. This, I feared, wouldn't last long. We should do this together, he said, touching me again. He wanted to taste me as I did him, while I did him. Anything for him.

You smile now, but I ask for you to be unsurprised at how I am weak against his words. Such brazen words. Words so sexual that even I would find difficulty in repeating to you. But I loved them, and complied too readily. There, crouching over me, he lapped at my aching member with such skill as I too, applied my tongue to him. He suckled my tip and I tasted his underside, so aroused by this flavour, this smell, and the sight of the spreading of thighs above me that he could lower himself to me. I stroked those thighs, enjoying his tongue on me. And as I took him into my mouth again so did he, soft, wet, and warm. Yes, that sweet mouth was divine. He sucked too, so ardently, so perfectly I thought I would die from it. My fingers, from his thighs traveled up and found his petite entrance. It tightened; I found it such a lovely response. But ah! That pressure again! My mind was wiped clean, and I felt him move as I did, up and down as I mimicked his oral adoration.

How we must have looked, buried and slowly thrusting into each other. Something that, I admit, threatens the comfort between my legs even now. But it was such pleasure, and my hands assisted the movement of his hips as we milked each other. I could taste him again, and we quickened, moaning though our mouths were occupied, answered with nothing but the wet sounds of our sucking. And finally we climaxed; the flood of his release into my mouth forcing me into a violent shudder. I swallowed again; loving this taste, this texture. Simply because it was his. And he did the same, though some escaped him, and I felt this trickle down from his lips. Oh, lover. Like animals we licked each other clean, savouring what each had to give. I finished with a kiss, as did he. Come, turn, and smile at me. With a thumb I traced his lower lip, curved upward in an angelic smile. Such loveliness. Then the kissing came again, and we tasted each other. He moaned softly into me, which drew a smile despite myself. How languidly he lay against me, and how I loved his body against mine. True, I love holding him in my arms, having his warmth against me. But it is a different matter to have nothing, no clothes in the way. Yes, I liked that peacefulness.

Please don't ask when I finally take him, I'm getting to that. You don't rush love; you take it slowly. You enjoy it, and you treasure it. It is precious, so precious. And he, my lover, my angel… how easily he can make me feel such desire. Do you not feel that extra thump in your chest when he flits his eyes at you that way? See how he can tease with the movement of his hips, and how he invites by tilting his chin this way.

I'll divulge something about him now, if you promise not to raise this in his presence. After all, I need him to hold me at nights. I need his kisses and I need his skin, his flesh. What I would become without them. My darling, he can be insatiable. When he burns with passion and loves with lust, lusts with love. So insatiable, so wild, so beautiful.

When we'd rested – and when I say this I mean to stop breathing heavily – he, being the mischievous kitten I love him for, slunk off my body, leaving a teasing breeze along my softened organ from his lips as he left. Had I not just been pleasured so wonderfully, that alone would have revived my desire. He, you see, is my aphrodisiac. I desire everything about him. His presence, his scent, his love. I cannot do without these. I am dependent.

So he returned to me, his smile gentle yet impish. And his eyes shone with excitement as he pressed two cylindrical bottles into my unexpecting hand. At these I smiled as well. Ah, my naughty lover. So unabashed sometimes, and so daring. Massage oil, my friend, to make my push into his depths less painful. I've grown rather fond of it, as you'll soon understand.

Here my hands cupped his face, so delicate and soft to touch. My lips thanked his eyes for being beautiful, and his mouth for being sensual. He sought a deeper kiss at this, his sly tongue coming to lick my lips. But not this time, I smiled to him. I wouldn't yield now, difficult as it was. The answer is simple, if you think about my nature. My lover, gloriously naked, presenting me with such a gift that held, ultimately, a lewd connotation. What else could that simple gesture have done but flood my mind with images of a writhing angel, legs fully apart, wet and glistening with lust and ecstasy? I couldn't kiss him now.

Come, my love, lie back slowly. Breathe, yes, breathe as you anticipate my wet touch against your eager flesh. My fingers, already craving the feel of his milky skin, ran along his sides, his chest, his nipples, his stomach. Slowly my fingertips devoured the texture of his skin, and I watched on as his nipples hardened.

"So sensitive," I commented, remarking at how his senses worked to my advantage. And at this he blushed. I could only smile again, chuckling softly as I took one aroused nub with my lips. My tongue traced circles and my teeth nibbled. Now and then I bit hard, and he responded with a quick arch of his back and a loud hiss, or a tortured moan. But see how he enjoyed it! His hands came around my neck, my head, and held me to him so tightly I could scarce move anywhere else.

At last I pulled my lips away from his nipples, those petite nubs swollen and slick from my ministrations. The areas around them were tinged dark with the light bruises from my suckling, and oh, how beautiful he looked even by that. Darling. My thumbs apologized for the abuse that had left his breathing in sighs, slowly rubbing them until his legs parted under me. How he wanted all this. You could see it in his eyes, pleading for more and begging to be touched. Demanding that I bring him this pleasure over and over.

But first let me adore his entrance. It had been on my mind since we'd begun. And it was like this that I pushed his legs apart, hands on his inner thighs, stroking, coaxing. I think I moaned here as well, at the mere sight of him. He allowed this, enjoying the attention I gave him. His breath hitched, when I nudged with the tip of my nose. He was clean, but either way I couldn't have cared. Then my lips brushed that tight ring of muscle, and I saw him throw an arm over his eyes. Be embarrassed, my love, but I know how you adore this.

So I let my tongue reward him there, passing sweeping strokes, hard and soft. I probed him, so tight I couldn't get in with merely that. And he responded with those lovely sighs laced with desire. Oh, I was greedy. Feed me those sighs again. I kept his legs pushed apart, for they threatened time and again to close around me. Then I sucked gently, and I heard the sound of his moan, mingled so sweetly in a sigh so loud. His body moved at the indecent pleasure, and his muscle tightened ever so often. How sweet, how sensual he was even in submission! I consumed him, lavishing all I could on his opening, all for the sounds of his bittersweet moans. Yes, love, I hear your frustration. I know why you press against my lips this way.

And there, to seal the promise that I would give him so much more, I kissed his hardening sex again. So much kissing, you complain. But again, you don't understand. This body was everything to me. This man, this beautiful man! I loved everything about him, and it was only natural that I wanted to possess him thoroughly. I wanted to love all of him. I wanted him to know how much I cherished him, without cheap words that people so easily throw around these days. Feel, lover, feel my love. If the night had to pass with only him blessed with such pleasure, so be it. I would have been more than satisfied, merely seeing him toss his head, moan and cry so sweetly, as long as he felt my love for him.

But he whimpered first, a startled moan caught halfway when I took one bottle and let flow a liberal quantity of lavender-smelling oil. It was perfectly mild and wonderfully cold, this clear oil. I watched my lover struggle with himself, biting his lip and deciding whether or not he should look on as I slowly poured the substance onto the tip of his length. Ah, I watched as it twitched slightly under the sudden cold liquid. My darling, he was so beautiful in his shame. And from his sex it flowed down, meeting the wet opening where I'd shown so much affection earlier. I could see he felt it, and he confirmed this by further spreading his legs.

I arched an eyebrow when I heard another desperate whimper escape his lips, and I smiled lovingly at his embarrassed face.

"Why do you blush," I asked softly, putting the bottle aside so my hands could spread the oil over his flesh, "when the one who brought these oils was you?" I swept upward from his entrance to his stiffened member, and he gasped softly at the slick touch.

His pink lips pursed and released, and he frowned at me, his beautiful cheeks tinged a deep hue of pink. He said he hadn't expected this. Yes, that was his error. I was to use these to prove his indecent nature, to love him, pleasure him so much he would forget his restraints and give himself to me in sweet, erotic immorality. This is not sadism, friend, do not misunderstand me. I call it a release, of sorts. But don't question me now; just listen, and you will understand.

Here my hands slowly spread the oil over his shivering skin; his clenching entrance, his sacs, his manhood (and this was so wonderfully hard now). Even over his inner thighs, which I massaged to relax him. Relax, yes. You chuckle because you know me. You know how I would take him from this peace and plunge him into a mess of rapture and ecstasy. But all the same I relaxed him, and then returned to those precious areas between his legs, where his hands had strayed to. These I gently slapped away, clicking my tongue disapprovingly at the sight of his fingertips, gleaming with oil.

"Let me worry about this," I said, kissing his bended knee, and watched as he nodded unsurely.

With one hand I slowly stroked his length, up and down. Pumping him, if I had to use a word to specifically describe it. And with the other – oh, how I waited for this. I slid a finger into him. Even from this I could feel he was tight, and extremely hot within. His melodic sigh came again as he enjoyed this. Good, enjoy it. As was I. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung slightly open as he exchanged soft gasps and whimpers for my touch. And I, being the generous merchant, accepted these completely. With another finger I probed him, and when he relaxed I pushed this into him. So my digits, consumed by his hot insides, drew out and in as I pumped his desire. I stretched him, and stroked his smooth inner walls. How that oil had heated him! My wanton lover had begun to move his hips so sensually, thrusting against my fist and grinding against my fingers. His arousing moans had grown louder, more desperate, and there upon his sex came a new drop of white.

But no, I wouldn't allow him the comfort of release now. I told you, I would rack his mind completely. He'd begun to call my name, and oh, if only I could describe how he'd breathed my name through his sighs. I was hard again, and wanted him terribly. Yet here he was, his hips swaying, rotating faster against my pleasuring hands. No, my love, not now. I'd have to torture him now. So I did; the pumping stopped, and I squeezed his base that he cried aloud in frustration, and perhaps a little pain. Still my thrusting fingers continued, and now another digit had joined their number. He writhed against me now, begging, legs parting, his hands coaxing my own in vain.

"Shhh," I whispered, and he only shook his head.

"Let me…" he whimpered, "let me come… Yuki!"

He tossed his head as he cried my name; I'd squeezed him, and my fingers had stretched him again. There, you see how desperate he was? How pleasure had taken his mind? His eyes were moist now, and he begged even more.

"Soon," I assured, and withdrew my hands from him.

I reached for the bottle, but he'd taken it from me. Almost desperately, he drenched my arousal with the oil, gently spreading, pulling and kneading my flesh. My head spun with it, and for a moment I closed my eyes as I groaned for him.

Know that the oil, with friction, skin on skin, increases in temperature. And that can, in fact, be an extremely pleasurable thing. So he stroked me, and all the while he kissed my lips hungrily, pausing now and then only to whisper provocative words.

"Take me, enter me." he whimpered over and over, and when he'd coated me enough, shifted back again. He spread his legs eagerly now, and gods, how much it took me to keep myself from taking him without consideration.

He'd turned away from me, resting his weight then on knees and hands. With one he reached back to guide me, and a jolt ran through me as I felt my tip brush his entrance. Lover, lover. Beautiful, sensual one. His naked back was gracefully arched, and his skin gleamed with beads of perspiration.

So I'd begun to push against him, forcing myself through that tight ring – and how tight he was! He threw his head back and cried aloud at this, but his cries stretched and turned into moans so lewd as I eased into him. It was such torture! Feeling this tight warmth, heated by the oil. He was moist, deep, and he clenched about me. How I struggled to stay coherent! His head lowered, and his breathing hastened as he struggled to relax against me. But he moaned softly when I'd begun to move, and I echoed him for he would grip me tightly each time I pulled out. But one could only tolerate this speed for so long, and soon I was thrusting against him roughly. I heard no complain, but the encouraging crescendo of cries and moans, moans – shameless moaning! He rocked against me, and his louder cries flooded my ears when I reached down to take his neglected arousal into my hand.

We indulged in this wet pleasure, our senses overwhelmed with the smell of our heat in the air, and the moist sounds of my thrusting, and the thrilling volumes of his cries. And we pushed and pushed; I pummeled into his hot clenching depths and he ground his hips vigorously against my rhythm. We burned so hotly, and I could think of nothing, but being inside him, and pulling out, and thrusting so hard our flesh made noises upon contact.

"Yuki…" my lover breathed heavily between his cries, pulling me back to reality. "Hurry," he moaned loudly, "… coming!"

Oh don't drive me wild this way, my love! I gripped his weeping manhood, and he tightened around mine. We moved faster against each other, pushing, pushing, and finally we fell over the edge. I felt him grind wildly against me, crying so loudly as his walls tightened mercilessly around me. And I swooned, losing all control, shuddering as I released into him. At this I felt him empty into my pumping hand and over the floor, and he now breathed in a staccato of shorter whimpers and moans.

Even as I pulled out of him I wasn't completely empty. I stroked myself with the hand wet with what my lover released, and soon I moaned again, spilling onto his rear. He loved this, it seemed, as a final shiver took his body, and more flowed from him.

He collapsed to the floor, not caring that it was soiled and it would spread all over his abdomen. I lay above him gently, and we breathed heavily together for a moment before he turned to kiss me. It was a tender kiss, and simple. I swept back the hair that was all over his forehead, and we chuckled at how soiled we were.

But we wouldn't care about what we left, that we'd dirtied the floor with oil and other bodily fluids. It was too early to care, for we would thoroughly indulge in such pleasures the whole night. And such pleasures! To speak in detail of each one would take me too long, my friend. And the night is nearly over. My lover – see, he is tired, for he leaves the dance floor, and we have to return soon.

Yes, perhaps I could tell you of the rest in brief. Tomorrow night, if I am not busy with pleasures of the flesh. But let that be the last of it, because, you see how this beautiful man presses against my sex even now – there can be no end to this love of ours. Yes, my darling, kiss me, and kiss me again before we retire for the night.