Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Someone's Poem

“Want to hear something beautiful?”

We were tangled together, knotted limb to limb, our chests glistening with sweat and semen. Though it was after midnight, I could see his face in the dark; the cheap room at the Red Roof Inn not too far from my home hovered in a perpetual twilight, thanks to the banks of florescent lighting beneath its eaves, that leaked through the drawn curtains.

I’d been hearing beautiful things all night, thanks to the young man in my arms. He was all of twenty-one, a senior in his last semester of college who’d driven into town to meet me. His hair lay on my skin as he looked down into my face; it tickled. “Yes,” I replied.

“When I was driving up 75 through Ohio, it was all gray and dreary and pretty awful. The rain was crazy. Then I looked up and just as I was passing the Welcome to Michigan sign, I saw this cloud break above. It was truly amazing. Like magic.” I held the boy more tightly in my embrace, after that confession. “That’s when I knew everything on this trip was going to turn out to be all right.”

In the artificial twilight he lay on his side, his long, long blond hair gathered into a thick rope that lay across his neck and jaw and dangled loosely across the lower reaches of his ribcage. With his clear eyes, pale skin, and impossibly long golden tresses that seemed to give off their own light, he looked like a Pre-Raphaelite painting. His nose was narrow and sharp, his beard as short and neatly-trimmed as it was fair. He was beautiful, and to think that he’d been mine all evening took my breath away.

I’d arrived not knowing what to expect from the evening. I’d loved the kid’s profile when I’d seen it on BBRT, the week before. He’d checked me out a few days before contacting me to say he was planning a Detroit trip this last weekend, and that he’d been a blog reader of mine for a short time and was wondering if I might want to get together? Oh, I absolutely did. Over the next few days we hammered out the details. The boy messaged me both in email and through text messages to warn me that he hadn’t been fucked in a while—for over two years, to be precise. He seemed nervous about his recent inexperience, too; he didn’t go to the extreme that some do of making me promise, over and over again, to be gentle. He’d mentioned the hiatus enough, though, that I knew exactly how he felt. After all, I’ve felt that way about my own lack of bottom opportunities in recent years.

I wasn’t prepared for how absolutely breathtaking the kid was in person, though. His BBRT photos had been kind of goofy in a college boy way—they made him seem like a smiling, fun person, and definitely attractive, but they hadn’t prepared me for how truly attractive he was, when finally I knocked on his hotel room door and saw him on the other side, anxious and wide-eyed. I kissed him immediately, savoring the push and pull on my lips from his own. While we made out, standing there with his head tilted up to reach me, and mine lowered to his, my hands ranged down his body. My thumbs rubbed against his pierced nipples; my palms slid down the sides of his narrow waist. Then I cupped his ass, which in a pair of clinging sweatpants was full, perfect, and round. The kid wasn’t a particularly muscular guy, but my god, that ass. It would have bounced higher than a SuperBall.

We took our make-out session to the bed, where we gradually undressed each other, taking our time. He licked and sucked my torso and cock and balls, which I paid back by lifting his legs high to expose his hole for my mouth to taste. Hairy little fucker that he was, his hole was a forest of fur that abraded my chin and nose as I dove in deep.

He was tight. I could tell merely from the way his hole nipped at my tongue’s tip. At the same time, though, I could tell I was going to get inside that unused hole. The boy responded to every caress, warmed to every admiring word that passed through my lips. He wanted me, and he was letting me know it in every muscle’s turn, in every slow lowering of his curly lashes. When after a very long time I flipped him over so that those twin hairy globes were directly in my face, and he lifted them to assist my access, I judged that it was time.

My first attempt went badly, though. I knew that when I eased my cock head between those furry cheeks that I wasn’t going to get inside. He clenched down, repelling the invasion, and I retreated. That was fine. I lay next to him on the bed, with my greased finger pressed insistently inside his hole. As we kissed and nibbled at each other, I used the finger to draw a circle, gradually widening the entry until it puckered. I slipped another finger, and twisted and turned them to get him used to the sensations.

Then, after another very long period of relaxation and intimacy, I sweetly turned him back onto his stomach and worked my way in.

There were a few seconds of shock, and another few of intensity. Very quickly they were followed by sweet acceptance as I slid to the base. He groaned loudly, vibrating the alien mattress with the noise.

“How’s that feel?” I whispered in his ear.

“Wonderful,” he sighed.

I fucked him four times that evening, each time escalating the intensity of my thrusting just to the point I judged he could take it. All four times he responded by grinding and trying to add to my pleasure, the closer to got to orgasm. All four times, he pleaded for my load, and I was glad to give it to him. He spilled his sperm, too, once bringing himself to climax while I remained inside him and once letting me do the honors, and once by face-fucking me while I gulped eagerly at his dick. He licked me from head to foot, omitting no part of my body in his quest to bring me pleasure; he hammered at my hole with his finger, driving it all the way in until I grunted in contentment.

“You are driving me absolutely crazy with pleasure,” I kept telling him, as he stimulated and stroked me. Waves of sensation traveled over my body like an incoming tide.

“You deserve this kind of pleasure all the time,” he whispered back.

What was sweet, and touching, was that he believed it. I mean, what he told me is my own personal belief—I do deserve that kind of pleasure, all the time!—but he managed to say it with such sincerity that I knew his conviction was far deeper than my own.

The kid is a writer. In the morning’s early hours I got him to turn on the lights and read to me from his work, while I laid there on the bed in my shirt, my legs naked and sprawled open, my spent dick hanging limp between them. I closed my eyes and savored the words he spoke aloud, amused by the half-reticence in his halting voice as he read, and impressed by the half-confidence that took over as he proceeded. In a very few years’ time, that confidence is what will turn him into a speaker who will command attention.

He’s a good writer, too—good with an image, playful with his words. At the conclusion of each piece, he turned to me, naked in more ways than the purely physical, his beautiful long hair hanging on either side of his face. He was looking for approval. He’d had that long before, from the moment I met him in the darkness as our lips wrestled for dominance.

“If I were to write a poem about you,” he’d said in that florescent twilight, somewhere in the long, languorous hours we passed together, “I’d write about the feel of your skin, the smell of you, the way you taste on my tongue.” His arms had pulled me closer to him, and his words had buzzed in my ear. “You’d be the best poem I ever wrote.”

I wish I felt like someone’s poem more often. Maybe I deserve that, too.


  1. That sounds like an absolutely amazing time. I love the way the hair on a blonde guy's body looks, so I'm quite jealous that you got a bubble-butted blonde on top of that. Oh, and he's right. You DO deserve that type of feeling all the time. :)

  2. Bravo, Rob, bravo. Given all your posts .. I echo Lucky's comment that you do deserve this attention and these types of good feelings all the more and all the time. It's nice to read of such happiness being a part of your life.

  3. Lucky,

    At one point I asked this young man about the trail of hair between his pecs and his pubes. It looked, I told him, as if he spent hours and hours training or trimming it to be a perfect stripe of blond fur. But no, he told me, it grew naturally like that.

    He's the lucky one.

  4. 9:29 Anonymous,

    Thanks, my friend. I think we're all deserving of such pleasure. It's not just me!

  5. Great post! I agree: we all deserve such pleasure.

  6. Krysm,

    Yes indeed, we do. And thank you.

  7. Rob,
    That was an amazingly beautiful piece! I read it twice it was so good! Thanks for sharing!
    It's good to feel that special with someone!

  8. Wow that was very nice my friend. I already told you that you were the nicest and kindest person i've known. I'm glad that you had that beautiful time this week-end, you deserve time like that more often, people taking care of you.
    I hope to be just a little like you some day, not a writer because your the best but maybe in other thing. Take care my friend.


  9. Sweet, and romantic, and sexy. Got me hard, and made me sigh. :) In a good way.

  10. Eric,

    Twice? I'm impressed. Thank you, my friend!

  11. Yves,

    You already exceed me in kindness. Thank you.

  12. Richard,

    Thank you. It warms the cockles of my...what are cockles, anyway?

  13. @Rob re: cockles

    Cockles are a bivalve mollusk that have symmetrical shells that look like a heart when seen from the end. So the phrase "warms my cockles" originated as a cute way of saying "warms my heart"...And now that I've dispensed my useless trivia I would also like to say that this is a beautifully written post, great job!


  14. Ace,

    I've always wanted my heart to look like mollusk. Thank you!

  15. You're welcome. :) And any time you need some random bit of trivia answered, I'm your guy. If I don't know it myself (which is almost unheard of, but does happen), I immediately look it up online. I'm like an information whore. :)


  16. Ace,

    Been monitoring the comments on this one all day, have you? :)

  17. Rereading it all day too. It is why I've been wearing a perpetual smile. LOL


  18. Graphic descriptions of the textures and patterns of body hair on the body parts of eye-candy and playmates has long been overlooked in written accounts of fun and conquests... Thank you for the occasional inclusion of these details. Like smells and tastes, the noting and sharing the enjoyment of them helps include us in the specifics of your pleasure... Confident as you seem in the power of your member the joy for me in your writing is the gentleness that you sometimes have the courage weave into these thrusting accounts... makes it so much more than the hackneyed score of 'I nailed the fucker like he deserved...'

  19. You were lucky to have met a man whose passion and artfulness in and out of bed matched your own. Beautiful.

  20. 6:17 Anonymous:

    I appreciate your recognition of my gentleness. Sometimes it's an asset. I'll have to remember to include more body fur descriptions for my readers who are in that way inclined!

    Then I'll nail the fuckers like they deserve.

  21. Loki,

    That, my friend, was a smart, smart way to describe this encounter. Thank you.

  22. Heh. Reading this a year later brought it all back to me. Thank you for the wonder night, my friend. And thank you for the wonderful post. I'm going to take my sappy self away now. :)


  23. Such a very moving, beautiful tale. Thank you (both) for sharing it.
    Absolutely, you deserve to be someone's poem. I do not doubt you have become a very special poem to many people, including the young man here.