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Stake My Life On It

By Chris Carr

Copyright © 05/02/2016

 

 

 

 

I was putting lip gloss on Andre’s soft, bilious lips. He lay quietly, a look of indifference on his face but I paid it no attention because his heart lay just under my left arm and I could feel it thumping excitedly in his scant chest. His rigid dick bobbled idly, just south of my elbow but he maintained that look of apathy.

"Does nothing for me," His face seemed to insist, right on up to when his anxious dick would explode, lobbing heavy rosettes of abundant cum into the air.

I painted the shiny substance across his lips, my face inches from his as I worked. He lay quietly, staring up off into the distance, his heart still doing that loud pounding beneath my arm. That insouciance that amazed me in the beginning, held little sway over me now, my utter attraction to him more powerful than my fascination.

Andre excited me like no other and I was a helpless victim of his allure. He captivated me, ensnaring me in his mystifying stranglehold. Those eyes, the veiled windows to his soul, temptingly soft yet annoyingly mischievous. Were they really saying no or was it just a pretense to what ticked away inside?

He yawned, his lips parting to reveal his slight overbite. I stopped, glancing down at his thin, graceful form. His skin smooth, he looked like a boy in early pubescence, despite his 22 years. Passing my hand across his hairless chest, I gently caressed a nipple until it responded, standing briskly at attention. His dick twitched, bobbling up and down several times, a clear pearl of anxious juice oozing out.

 

 

 

 

"I like girls," He’d told me, that first night. We’d talked for some time, the conversation meandering from the superficial to matters of the heart. With all my coercing, he was unwilling to admit a same sex attraction of any kind.

"Ain’t never did nothin’ with no dude and don’t want to either," He said, those eyes glancing at me then darting away.

Andre never really looked you in the eye, even when he was talking about "Lord of the Rings" or Mac computers, his favorites. Granting the occasional glance, he’d quickly look away, adding to that air of mystique. Was it because what he said couldn’t be trusted, that maybe he was holding something back?

He was very passionate about computers, especially Macs. If you owned anything other than a Mac, you were operating way beneath your potential, as far as Andre was concerned. It was how I got him to open up, to respond with something more than those monosyllabic answers.

 

 

 

 

 

Quiet once more, he picked at his fingers, hands raised high above his head as I resumed coating his lips. Soon they shone with the glossy liquid, the very idea of something so utterly feminine stirring great waves of desire in me. I stopped, appreciating my work and how it accentuated the subtle curves. My dick so uncomfortably hard beneath me, I couldn’t resist kissing him, interrupting his idle dawdling just enough for him to look down.

Blinking, he offered no response at first. Then, almost imperceptibly, his mouth parted, allowing my tongue to slip inside. Tenderly, it swathed about his sweet orifice, our tongues dancing back and forth. His heartbeat accelerated even faster, pounding at his ribs beneath me while his respirations quickened.

I savored the sweet gloss, bursting in my mouth, my tongue dueling with his now. Panting through our noses, we consumed each other, Andre’s tongue finding mine then mine finding his, lovingly flicking it.

A small whimper escaped him, his body shuddering beneath me. He stared at me, those large, round eyes of his holding me, his gaze unfettered in the heat of passion. Then his hands found me, grazing tentatively about my ears his fingers searching, caressing ...

 

 

 

 

 

I believe it’s his obstinance that makes me do the things I do. His blank expressions, like the way he’d stared off into space as I played with his dick that first time. With the unbuttoning of that first button it was as if he was challenging me, daring me to get a response...

 

Is there something truly evocative embodied in something as simple as a glance? Could we be investing such a simple act with tons more than its implications? Can you really establish something as complicated as one’s orientation or attraction with a simple fleeting look?

 

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