When he told me that he’d loved me, for the umpteenth time that balmy night in June of 1985 I asked him to explain himself. I asked him to define love. I asked about the others; about Stu and Andy. I told him that Stu and I had tried this love thing out for a few months, I told him that love is just a chemical reaction that love is just for poets and teen girls who believe in butterflies and sunshine and write their boyfriend’s name over and over in their school books. I said love was just a lie, I said that there is only lust and sex. That the only kind of love that truly existed might be between a parent and child or maybe a dog and his master, everything else was just bull shit.I said a lot.
Chris said nothing. He just sat there, across from me on the beach at dusk. It was what film makers call the magic hour; he looked so beautiful, so handsome sitting there, his face bathed in that rosy, amber light. I felt sick, at how much I desired him and thought of him and obsessed on him, but I could not say that I loved him back; it would only end in some kind of major fuck up.
He was persistent. His eyes boring through me; he said, “I love you; I can not say anything but that. I want us to try; I want us to be exclusive. It’ll be different than it was with Stu. He’s a great guy, but he’s to much a free spirit to be tied down. You and me, we can do this, we can flip the bird at society and defy all the odds…we can, we have to do this. We have to go away from everything and everyone and start all over together. We can go out west, we can finish college together and live and build a life…”
Again I was looking at that handsome face, the kind of face that people warmed up to with its firm jaw line, dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and that thick head of curly black hair that was even now combed back into something of a pompadour. This was the face of the captain of the football team, and the face of the president of the student body at our old high school, this was the face that looked down on me, how many times now in various fits of passion, since that fateful afternoon in 1976? This was the face of the man who kept telling me that he loved me.
What couldn’t I just accept that?
It was getting cold on the beach. I could see his nipples getting hard through the thin green t-shirt he was wearing. I wanted to just put my arms around him. I wanted him to put his arms around me, to warm me. He finally stopped talking and he stood up brushing sand from his bare legs. “Let’s get back to the house”, he said.
Inside we made ourselves comfortable on the floor of his uncle’s beach house. There were tons of throw pillows scattered about the living room. For some reason, we never sat on the sofas; we always ended up on the floor.
“Maybe I said too much” he sighed as he crouched down next to me.
I put my arm around him and said, “Yes, let’s not talk about this, not now, let’s just enjoy the night.”
He gave me a sideways glance and shot me that impish grin as he pushed me gently so that I was laying down, and then he lay his head on my chest. I could smell the beach on him and it smelled like the future. I closed my eyes and began to think of what might be as he softly ran his fingers along my chest.
I let him touch me, I wanted him to touch. His big hands massaging my side and then working there way up to my neck. I stretched and he lifted his head and brought his mouth up to my lips and kissed me.
He was a master at seduction. He knew every part of me and every button to push. Before long we were naked to the night and he was fingering my asshole while he kissed and licked my engorged cock. I let him probe me while I continued smelling the beach, soon he had two and then three fingers up into me and my dick was dripping like a leaky faucet. With his free hand he lightly touched the end of my cock and caught some of my pre-cum on his fingers that he brought up to his lips and tasted, and then he knelt over me and kissed me so that I could taste my own cum mingled with is saliva.
When he was through finger fucking me, Chris stood up over me and helped me to my knees and then guided my head to his member. I swallowed the familiar cock of my buddy working it with my tongue tasting his salty leak. His hands grasping me from the back of my head, he shoved me down on him deeper. I grab his ass and kneed his muscular butt with my hands and then I move my left hand around and tug on his balls; this makes him mash my face and give a throaty growl. My jaw is aching and spit is dripping out of my mouth down on to my chest while he fucks my face.
“Get it nice and wet, babe” he growls.
All pretext of tenderness is gone when he pushes me back down on the floor and I assume the position on all four while Chris slams his wang up into me in one quick motion. While I have taken this cock for years, it does nothing to lessen the intense and sharp explosion of smarting I feel when he begins his fucking. Chris is an enthusiastic and powerful fucker. I feel like I am being jack hammered when he is in me, and I don’t want it to end.
To add to the mix of sensations I am feeling; every once in a while, Chris smacks my ass with a sharp quick slap. It’s like a bolt of lightning, heightening the sensations by seasoning it with pain.
With out missing a beat, and while still fully inside of me, he yanks me by the shoulders and throws me sideway into a bank of pillows on the floor and dances in me. His hips are moving in that odd semi circular way now. I’ve seen this move from all sides. I know that when he is doing this there is no turning back, he’s gone. I also know that to be on the receiving end of this dance will send his partner to untold places. I was there…I was seeing spots in front of my eyes while I jacked my own cock while the man who told me he loved me was brutally savaging me.
Now he, stops for a second and slides out of me, he is coated in sweat. I see his torso glisten in the dimly lit room. He throws his head back for a second and a shower of sweat comes off. He wipes his brow and then smiles at me. I lunge at him and begin licking the sweat off of him; it makes me nuts, his salty taste and smell. I lick his armpit and then nearly detonate when he puts me in a bear hug and kisses me. When he breaks the hug I fall back onto the sea of pillows and Chris mounts me.
My point of view allows me to watch him as he enters me again. A flash of heat lightening momentarily lights the living room and I see his well muscled upper body in silhouette.
This time the fucking is slower and more deliberate and while he is fucking me he leans over and kisses me and I open my mouth and he spits in my mouth and I spit at him, and he licks my face while his hands roughly massage my chest.
He leans back up as his rhythm intensifies and I lift my ass and thighs up some as my own dick drips all over my stomach. “Oh god I love you” he says in a cracked almost maniacal sounding voice—and then he comes and his body goes ridged and I gasp as he goes even deeper filling me up with his life force. I grab my own cock and come in a matter of seconds shooting my load up and onto his chest and he rubs it all over himself while he moans coming down from his release until he collapses on top of me exhausted breathing heavily smelling of sweat and semen and the beach and the damn future…
Another flash of lighting illuminates the room but it is followed only by the sound of our hurried breathing…
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