Love at a Touch

This story is fictional. Any similarity to real people or events is an accident, and wholly unintended by the author. All characters are assumed to be 18, despite the fact they do not actually exist. Enjoy...

*****

I feel a palpable sense of loss as he lifts himself off of me. With so much body heat trapped between us, I shiver at the cold on my bare ass. It is sticking obscenely in the air as he pulls away. I am consumed with a mix of satisfaction and loss. I miss him, my body misses him. I slowly lower my ass, pressing my engorged cock into the seat. It feels good.

He is trying to get dressed. I am in his way. He can't really move the way he needs to and he can't stand up with the low roof over his head. He is looking out the windows, quickly in all directions as he pulls himself together. Satisfied that no one has seen us, he smiles down at me. I feel like such a slut, bare ass in the air.

He runs one hand over my smooth ass. Involuntarily, I lift it towards him. "Turn over, baby." He tells me.

As I come to rest on my back, he reaches out and takes me in his hand. I am still hard, and his touch is electric. He shifts his body and leaning down, takes me into his mouth. I gasp. I don't feel like it could possibly get any harder, but somehow it does. He runs his hands lovingly across my flat stomach, and chest. There is something sexy about a strong man, a man capable of tenderness. I love it, which is why I am his.

His hands are all over me. A loving touch, like I am something special. Something worth remembering. One hand has found my balls, rubbing them gently. The other is stroking the base of my tool in rhythm with his loving mouth. I can't take it anymore, I love him too much. My fingers bury in his hair as my hips thrust at his face. He is ready for me, he wants me. Our love is overwhelming.

"I took his cum, I took his cum." That thought more than anything else pushes me over the edge. My orgasm overtakes me as I focus on his hot seed inside me. With a loud groan, hands holding his head, I cum hard. Sinking deeply into the feeling. Getting lost in it. Shot after shot of salty cum flows into his gentle mouth. I can't feel it, but I know he is swallowing it down. He always does. That simple act draws us together, strengthens our bond.

My orgasm subsides, I'm still in his mouth. He is allowing me to come down gently. My hands fall from his head to the seat. He releases me, and sits up to admire me. Gently he fondles my balls. "You are so sexy." He tells me. "I love knowing my load is inside you." He slides his fingers between my legs, suggestively.

I smile at him, pull him close for a passionate kiss. "I love you." I whisper into his face. "You always take care of me." Our eyes lock, inches apart. I can feel the love and passion between us. It's like a living thing, temporarily sated, but strong.

"Let's go home." He tells me. When I am dressed he takes one last look out the windows to make sure we are still alone, then steps out.

Driving home, he is actually holding my hand. He has never done that before. Perhaps there has been a shift in our relationship. I tell myself it is dark, and the windows are tinted. No one will see us, that's why he is doing it. The feeling is just my imagination. I look at his face, lit softly by the light of the dash. He is not looking at me, has not looked at me. He is simple holding my hand, and driving.

Home. He throws the keys on the table by the door and points in the direction of the bathroom. "Go ahead and take a shower first. I will get dinner started." Without looking back he heads for the kitchen. I watch him depart until he is gone, then I obey.

I have been in this shower before, many times, but never by myself. It's strange and seems bigger. I take off my clothes and climb under the warm spray. It feels good, and I linger. I take my time soaping up and rinsing off. Casually, I run a finger around my asshole. It feels good, and the knowledge that his seed is only inches away thrills me. I want to stay longer, but he may be waiting. I dry off and get out. Quietly I pad down the hall to the bedroom and grab a pair of shorts from the drawer. He likes me to be clean.

I follow good smells to the kitchen. He is standing in front of the stove stirring something in a pot. When I walk in he smiles at me. "Feeling better?" He asks.

"Yes I am." I reply. "What can I help you with?"

"There is fish in the oven. I should be out of the shower before it's done. And this needs to be stirred occasionally." He points at the pot. "Wine is on the rack, will you pick one and set the table?"

"No problem." I tell him. This is odd. He has cooked for me before. I have cooked for him. This is the first time it has been a team effort. This does not feel like dating, this feels like life. Are we finally truly comfortable around each other?

He disappears down the hall as I set the table. I lay out placemats and utensils. Add a plate, glasses of wine and water. I am ready. The wine is good, I stir the pot as I sip a glass. In the pot something smells delicious. I don't see any boxes, this is from scratch. A damn fine man.

He returns and takes over the kitchen. I sit at the table and watch him moving around getting dinner ready. He is only wearing shorts, just like me. "Bring your plate." He tells me. "The food is ready." I pick up both of our plates, and hold them out to him. He loads them up and hands them back. I set them on the table and sit. Satisfied everything is turned off, he joins me at the table.

I pick up a fork, but before I can start eating I am yanked to one side. I look down to see his hand on my chair. He has pulled me closer to him. Much closer. That done he puts a finger on my placemat and slides my food in front of me. Then the wine. "Better." He says. He gives me that mischievous boy-like grin that I love so much, then motions to my food. "Go ahead, it's getting cold."

The food is excellent, but the conversation is light. I can see that something is bothering him. When I have finished eating, I push the plate away and focus on the wine while I wait for him to tell me what it is we are not talking about. Is this it, is he going to send me packing?

Finished with dinner he toys absentmindedly with his wine glass. Spinning it between his fingers as he watches it twirl. I can't take it anymore. "Ok, what is going on? You haven't said much since we left the theatre." It sounds like an accusation, but he is still silent. He takes my hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses it gently. Then turning it over, he kisses the palm.

"I want you to stay with me." Finally. Into a strained silence.

"Ok." I say, not understanding. "I can leave in the morning." He is looking at me expectantly, patiently. Finally I understand and my mouth is dry. "You mean stay, as in... stay?"

"Yes." This is hard for him, I can tell. Neither of us is "out." This means big changes, bad changes. Our families will never forgive us. Suddenly I realize the full impact of what he is asking. "I love you. Stay with me." His eyes are more beautiful than ever.

I want this, I want this bad. But I'm afraid. "I don't know if I can. My family won't... I mean, we will be alone. Totally alone." My eyes are begging him. Somehow, to make this ok.

I'm tired of hiding, tired of pretending. I don't want to live this way anymore, baby. I realized back there in the car that I love you, really love you. Do you understand?" He is so beautiful right now.

He leans forward, and kisses me deeply. I am momentarily stunned, but I kiss him back. The kiss is like nothing we have ever shared. It's a deep kiss, a passionate kiss. A healing kiss. I have decided, I will be his.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me. Inches away. Eye to eye, heart to heart. My pulse is racing. I hesitate, then nod. He knows what it means, total acquiescence. We are one. "Go and get the lube." He whispers softly. "There is something we need to do." I smile, understanding. This will be our first time... together.

I drop my shorts in the hall as I return with the bottle. I am rock hard, and follow my erection back to the kitchen. He has pushed the chair away from the table, and is sitting on it, naked. Hard and naked. I open the bottle and squeeze lube into my hand. We are going to do this right. I rub it generously on his manhood. Coating every square inch. Then bend forward slightly and lubricate myself. I have a feeling there won't be time to do this again soon. I drop the bottle on the table, and wipe my fingers on a napkin. He had closed his eyes while I was rubbing him, but they are open now. Locked on mine.

I lift one leg and step over him. Poised to sit in his lap, face to face. With one strong hand he reaches out and grabs my ass, controlling it. With the other he is guiding his manhood as I sink toward him. When he meets my entrance, we both gasp. I want him, can't wait for him, and sink steadily onto him. I am warm and deep, he is hard. Our bodies meet like it is the first time. Inch after inch disappears into my willing body. Soon I am down. We are one.

He wraps his arms around me, a crushing embrace. Holding me close, we are eye to eye. Our lips come together, tongues sliding over and around. He smells so good. Feels so good. I feel my soul open to him, like a flower. His to me. The passion is unlike anything, I suddenly know what it is to make love.

I begin to move on him. Up and down, slowly, so slowly. I reach between us and cup his balls. His legs are open, I am rising and falling. I feel around the base of his cock where it disappears into me, follow it with my fingers, and tease his balls. His head lands on my chest, he has always liked that. Now it has new meaning for me. Faster and faster I glide on him. Up and down, taking him to the tip, then crashing back down to bury him. Soon he will lose control, become the wild man I love.

Suddenly he pulls me down, full penetration, I can't move. Holding me with one strong arm, he stands. It's an awkward position, trying to hold my legs in the air, but it doesn't last long. With one hand he sweeps the table. Silverware and dishes crash to the floor, something shatters. I land on my back and feel something wet. A spill, but I don't care. I am totally focused on him. My legs are in the air and he is driving into me, hard.

I enjoy the momentum, the feel of his sex. Leaning forward, reaching around my legs, his hand closes on my throat. His grip is hard, but not crushing. He is totally lost, fucking me with abandon. I can hear the table sliding on the tile as he drives into me mercilessly. I feel his strong hands, enjoy the strength of his body, the hardness of his cock. I drink in his love.

He is thrusting erratically, swelling inside me. With a gasp he loses control as his balls empty. I imagine the last of it, disappearing into me. He looks down at me, lovingly. I am smiling at him.

He bends down to kiss me. He is sweaty and sticky, and I hold him close. The kiss, deep and passionate. The kiss of sated love. The conclusion of the act. "I love you baby, I love you." Over and over. His mantra.