Ben 3: Open Desire

It early morning and I feel no shame as I openly stare at him. He's less than a half feet away from me, well beyond the borders that suburban sprawl has deemed appropriate for personal space. My eyes have to concentrate to focus on someone so close. I can feel my eyes focus on one eye and then dart to his other and back again, unsure of which one to land on to try to read what the next move is. And in the periphery, I see the muscle of his square jaw contract as if he's grinding his teeth but it's more akin to the instinctual act of a dog licking it's chops. Then his eyebrows furrow, upturned. A look of pure open and honest need. A plea. Desire. Right before he drops all of it and his face gives away and the undertow that is left in its wake pulls us together with such ferocity I'm scared we'll chip our teeth as our mouths meet in a kiss.

Nope, no shame at all. We've met up at a local hotel and even though we both spent the night with our respective partners, the bed is already rumpled. A couple used towels are thrown about haphazardly disrupting the carefully curated brand of tidiness that's pictured in travel sites. We entered the room that way and Ben is well-aware of my insatiable sexual needs that made me take advantage of having the room the evening prior to engage in a quick little romp with the guy I've deemed the QuintessentialBear in these pages. In fact, Ben's refreshingly so judgement-free that we often encourage each other's exploits and share stories and giggle over experiences like two teenaged girls fawning over the star quarterback… but a dirtier version of that where sperm flies all over the place in an orgy.

And that ebb and flow of delayed satisfaction and intense need rippled through the morning as we rumpled the used sheets even further. Teasing his cock with the flick of the tongue before all restraint is lost and I swallow the thing whole. Getting so close to his hole where the moisture from by breath visibly collects on the hairs of his hole before my tongue lashes out and buries itself between the two mounds. Teasing his hole a little with my cock, feeling his hole wink and beckon for the crown of my cock to be inside before pummeling his ass with full length strokes that's punctuated at the end with ball-slapping urgency and purpose.

But what I remember most is not the individual acts, but the giggles afterwards. We've just added yet another conquest to chat frivolously about and that crested wave only left an undertow that pulls us together in a kinship as unabashed fuck pig debauchery.