I met him last night.
he was standing, waiting, in the dimly light hallway, barefoot and draped in a black toga. I took his hand and opened the door before us. The walls of the room were painted black, matching the hardness of the concrete floor. A single utility light suspended from the ceiling cast a soft worn light across the floor.
In the middle of the room stood a bench - a simple wooden bench, padded with black leather. He laid back on the bench. Still clothed, he intuitively raised his arms back over his head, filling the space around us with his masculine rawness of his unwashed pits.
he flinched, then moaned, when he felt the cold metal shackles wrap around his ankles and I chained his legs to the frame. I caressed MY body...My property. I touched him lightly and rubbed him hard. I toyed with MY hole, teasing him, watching him squirm. And the more I touched him there, the higher and longer he held his hips up. I then ravaged MY hole.
I straddled him and stood over him. I knew he wanted me to take him further. I marked him as I sprayed a hard steady stream on his chest, neck and face. In a bondage of trust, he held his head still and opened his mouth to take whatever washed over his lips.
I reached back and under his robe. I firmly grabbed him. His rugged solid meat pulsed in my fist. I pushed back the cloth, mounted his sword and together We rode into the coming new year.
This morning I woke to find my groin wet.
I knew he had been here.
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