Mar 4, 2013

Alex laid bare (3) (Michael Williams)

More from Michael William's outrageous novel Alex laid bare. Go here for the previous installment. 

Michael Williams

I felt him reach beside the bed. The kisses suddenly stopped. He knelt before me, his taut body silhouetted against the moonlight that now shed a soft glow through the small window high in the opposite wall. He bent across me and poured a liquid down my chest across my stomach. The fragrance was heavy and musky. I expected him to massage the oil into my body. Instead he simply lowered himself onto me, pressing every square inch of his flesh against mine.




He began to slide slowly up and down, then across, then back again, the feeling of skin against skin intensely electric. I felt as if my whole body had become super-sensitized, every nerve alert to the slightest touch, as if Jojo and I were merging into a single entity, our beings fused and inseparable.

Go Hirano

He began to kiss me again, deep, sensuous kisses. I was desperate with desire. Lying full length on top of me, he rolled over onto his back and repeated the serpentine motion across my body. I felt him reach for my cock and, in a continuous movement, slid downwards, taking me inside him with a deep, long moan.

The, at last, we made love, and I knew I gave him pleasure, too. Our groans of delight as we both climaxed dissolved into giggles of sheer joy. Finally, we lay still, totally submerged in each other. No one had ever given himself to me so completely, so unselfishly, so sensually.

_____________

After a period of languid kisses a new surge of passion coursed through our veins. Still Jojo remained devoted to my pleasure, almost oblivious to his own longings. I felt a keen desire to match his unselfishness, to offer myself to him, give myself without inhibition. As we twisted and tumbled in our rising excitement, my wish to surrender all my defenses became a desperate urge. From Jojo I wanted that which, all my life, I had feared and resisted, the ultimate experience of submission. Gently I maneuvered him onto his back, straddled his groin, reached between his legs and stoked his balls already taut in anticipation. Of course he knew exactly what I intended.
"No, you are guest," he began again.
"But guest can choose," I countered, lowering myself onto his rigid cock. His eyes widened, his lips parted, his body quivered with delight. He had gone beyond the point of resistance.

The pain was excruciating, but wonderful. I wanted to suffer for him, bleed for him, die for him, if only I could make him recognize the momentous nature of his impact on my being. The discomfort eased. I moved upon him with a violence that seemed alien to my nature but essential to the moment.



"Please, please, yes, oh, yes," he yelled as he came inside me, lapsing into a torrent of words which had no meaning for me, stroking me until I too shot thick plumes of semen across the rippling muscles of his abdomen, again and again until I felt drained of life, self, and any sense of my past. I collapsed upon him, embraced him in his potency and buried my head in his neck to prevent his seeing my tears. He lifted my face to his, drew a finger across his eyelid, captured a drop of his own moisture and pressed it into my lips. "So, you do everything for me," he whispered.

We lay immobile, lost in our own thoughts, each apparently fulfilled by this latest consummation, mine a new sense of exposure, rendered almost shocking by the security I felt as I lay contented in Jojo's embrace.

The rapture waxed and waned through the long night, with the dawn and into the morning. I lost count of the number of times we made love. At different moments I felt deeply secure in his arms, at others deeply protective of this beautiful exotic boy who only wanted to please me and, at others again, deeply moved by the sensual abandon in which he revealed his own satisfaction. It was as if I found myself bathed in a light that cast no shadow. The encounter was masculine in its intensity, in the strength with which we clasped each other tight, the urgency with which we penetrated and exploded, but also feminine in the gentleness of the later caresses, the whispered endearments. At some point I slept and wished the sleep to last forever.



From: Michael Williams, Alex laid bare, Lulu Publications, Morrisville NC, 2006, p. 175-176 Perhaps we should mention that the Alex here has nothing to do with the Alex of the Green Eyes, this coincidence is a sheer coincidence.



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