Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Peter X, Briefly

Bar. Saturday night. Boyfriend, friends having after dinner drinks. I’m horny as fuck and want to get home. Boyfriend wants to look around more. Whatever.

Talk to a few friends. They mention Peter X is here. Peter and I dated for a minute. He barebacks. Puts himself in dangerous situations. His latest just dumped him. The guy didn’t like that Peter lived to fuck. Wanted him all to himself. Peter is too amazing for one guy. He’s out, but he’s not really here.

Surprised he didn’t call me. I play therapist when he breaks up with someone. He cries. I tell him to man up. Sometimes we’ll fuck. Usually, a good fuck gets him back in the game.

I see him in the corner. Jeans. Dress shirt. Looks amazing as always. My height. Handsome. 5% body fat. Works out like a fiend. Never wears deodorant. Has the best stink of any guy I know.

I walk over. He nods. I nod. I go for the hug. “You okay?” I whisper. He nods. Pull back. Look into his eyes. “You sure?” Eyes well up. He’s a fucking mess.

There’s something about Peter when he’s a mess that makes him so damn fuckable. Perfect looks/body scream confidence. Face reveals he’s vulnerable. I love it.

Move in for the kiss. Peter is a great kisser. I grab the back of his head and hold him in place as we kiss. He makes no attempt to move away. I know he’s mine. We make out for a while. His smell is intoxicating. Strong. Acrid. Not dirty, but like a man.

Move to his ear, “Undo your shirt.” We kiss for a while. He makes no attempt to unbutton anything. I ask again, this time grabbing his neck firmly: I’m in charge. Do what I say.

I know his weakness: his pits. He loves having them eaten. Cleaned out with a strong tongue. I pull off his shirt. Smell it. Stinks like him. Push it against his chest. Looking him in his baby blues. I nod to his left. “Lift it.”

He sighs. Closing his eyes, he lifts his left arm. My nose dives in. Deep inhale. God, it smells delicious. My tongue gets a taste. It tingles. I’m salivating at the thought of driving deeper into that pit. I soak it with spit. I tongue the hell out of it. I lick it. I spit in it. His thick bush holds all my saliva. I begin to suck it all back out.

I’m hard as a rock. I can feel his fat dick pushing against my leg. I bump and grind a little. He whimpers slightly.

We kiss again. I want him to taste himself. His strong, masculine scent on my tongue, lips and chin. He likes how he tastes. Peter even chews on my chin.

I eat out that left pit again for a few more minutes. I pull back. Smile. I look at his right pit. Peter is VERY sensitive on his right pit. Don’t know why. Don’t care. I got him to cum twice just by tickling his right pit. Granted, I was also stroking his dick a little, but he came faster when I played with his right pit.

Peter lets out a “mmmph” noise before I’ve even got my face in his pit. I bury my nose in. Deep inhales. I’m harder. I gently kiss the surrounding soft skin. Slowly moving towards the thick patch of fur. I lick the hairs. Softly at first, then with more force. He’s whimpering louder. I want to continue going slowly, to tease him a bit, but my tongue has a mind of its own. I begin Frenching his pit. Mouth open, tongue swirling. How this pit tastes better than the left, I don’t know. It just does.

Peter’s pulling me close. Groaning loudly. I keep my assault on his pit at maximum as we start dry-humping. I’m pounding my crotch into him as I suck on that pungent pit. His grip gets tighter. His moans louder. He bites his lip to keep it quiet. I keep thrusting as if my cock is slamming into his tight hole.

He gasps. He’s cumming in his pants. I continue slamming into him and eating that tasty pit. His arms relax their grip. My thrusts slow. I pull back. We look at each other and smile. I hear a couple of guys clapping.

I pull him closer and talk directly into his ear, holding his neck firmly in my hand: “You see the guy in the red shirt at the bar?” I wait for him to look and nod, “That’s my boyfriend. He’s smiling isn’t he?” My hand on his neck pulls as he nods. “You need to find someone who’ll let you be you. Don’t settle. Move on.” Peter pulls me close into a hug.

One last kiss. I turn and walk back to The Boyfriend. Long kiss. I wait for a comment about Peter’s pits on my breath. He holds up a scotch. He’s not into pits but knows that I am. The Boyfriend accepts me. He knew I’d kiss him and he knew that if he drank a scotch it wouldn’t annoy him. We work well together.

I hope Peter X. finds someone who’ll work well with him.

27 comments:

Strayf said...

Damn, damn, damn! Now I have to go thru my little black book and find another pit fiend for the night. I love pits and your story just got me all worked up! Schlurp!

Tim said...

Glad to see you are posting again!! Take care.

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Anonymous said...

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(awk)Word said...

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If you're morally appalled by my behavior, go hang out at The 700 Club, bitch.

While you're off being morally superior, why not learn to capitalize the first letter of a sentence? Then people don't think you're a fucktard.

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Supplicant said...

Hey, RL, welcome back!

I'm really glad you've hooked up with a guy who understands you and who you understand!

I'm really psyched for you, brother!

Anonymous said...

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(awk)Word said...

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Anonymous said...

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