"Where were you the first few days I was here in Vegas?" he asks. Part of the question was muffled as he asks this into the pillow. He's laying face down naked, both arms in crooked out and up over his head in a gesture of silent surrender. "I could deal with a little bit of this every night I was here. Look! I'm breaking out into goosebumps!" He lifts his head and turns it to gaze at his arm as if in disbelief.
I'm also completely disrobed, sitting right on top of his ass with my hard inches resting perfectly between his globes as my fingers trace the muscles on his back. His back is seemingly smooth but my hands hover until they rake the tops of the invisible soft fuzz before the fingers dip down deep to outline the bones underneath.
When he turned his head, I seized the opportunity and with both hands on his back, leaned forward to press more and more of him into the bed and squeeze more and more air out of him before my chest met his shoulders to pin him down. My lips just hovered over his one ear that he's left exposed in turning his head, And I waited. Waited for him to take in that breath, waited to match his rhythm, waited until we were in sync. And then I licked my lips, there, just hovering over his ear so he can feel the heat, the moisture, and ultimately sense the flesh that was rolling around in my mouth before starting. I wanted his ear to witness the power of sound as it is birthed directly from my core with just mere millimeters before it is anxiously received and caressed and massage into signals that directly reverberate into his head as meaning. Simultaneously I undulate my body on top of his in a wave to seal and unseal us together in a sticky roll as his body breaks out into a sweat, neurons vibrating and reaching, overexerting itself to reach out at the promise of stimuli. My cock drools a line down his crack at the end of that wave, snapping to a crack at the end of that whip that places the head squarely against his hole.
"I'm gonna fuck you," I whisper. Or I don't whisper. The words form with my lips, the lungs pass the air out of my mouth, the vocal cords almost massage the air into waves. But he hears. He understands. A shock straight through to his deepest understanding. He welcomes me as the meaning skips through the air and is accepted deep within him. And my hips mirror the waves that float through to his core to work my inches firmly so that he resoundingly receives me.
Yeah, I wish we had repeats of this, that it wasn't our first and only night where our paths crossed. I even saved his pictures afterward to make sure I didn't forget him. But when I look back at them, they don't quite rival this memory I have of him, this moment where we are so intertwined in such physical and physically invisible ways. And that's when I realize that I didn't need to have a repeat with him to have that same rush, to feel that same thing, to extend that pleasure over a couple more days. Because I have this pure memory that all my senses etched into my mind and that moment replayed outlives any new memory I could have made with him.