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Then we crash together, once again consumed with the unexpected world of safety, comfort, and long-unfulfilled sexual desires between us.
The kissing moves to my bedroom, which is a large square area in the corner of my apartment separated by hanging curtains and a tapestry of a lion, where I lay his sweet, supple body on the silk sheets of my large, king size bed. His clothes dress the floor along the way, and by the time I’ve got him on my bed, he’s down to just his white socks and underwear—a pair of tiny black bikini briefs, skimpy and showing every inch of what he’s got.
“Remember the look of anguish on his face?”
Tye is on his back, staring up at me as I hold myself over him, straddling his waist. “Anguish?”
“Your wrestler boy. Your muse. Your fantasy.” I bring my lips to his, kiss him deeply, then pull my face away and give him a look. “You’re gonna feel exactly what he felt … except it won’t be just a job of a model to portray an emotion for the lens. Boy, you’re gonna be the emotion.”
With that, I draw each of his hands to each of the posts of my headboard, where I bind them with silken ropes already attached there. Then I bind his still-socked feet to either leg post of the bed while he excitedly watches.
Now spread-eagle and helpless, I put myself on top of him again, straddling his waist. “I don’t even need to gag you. You already know you’re mine.”
Tye bites his lip, staring up at me. “Is now the time when I thank you and beg for more?”
“Now is the time when I tell you you’re not my client anymore.”
Tye’s face changes. “What?”
“You’re my muse.”
He opens his mouth, then appears confused, as if unsure whether that’s a good or bad thing—until I kiss him and make up his mind for him.
And it’s on those silky, slippery sheets that I make him all mine, kissing his lips, tasting his hard exposed nipples, and bathing his rippling abs with my warm, wet tongue. I taste him everywhere. I taste his exposed armpits with my tongue, causing him to buck, tickled and squirming and turned on at the same time. I bite the waistband of his tiny bikini briefs and drag them down, exposing his hard cock to my face, which I quickly devour, inch after inch. Tye, completely ungagged and with his mouth fully free to express his every emotion, lets out moan after delirious moan as I consume him.
My mouth is traded for my hand, which rides up and down his slippery cock, causing Tye’s gasps and breathing to become vocal. He was so worked up from our long photo shoot, I know it won’t take long, despite my wishing I could make it last all night. I pull out my own cock, throbbing from its neglect, spit on a hand, and jerk us both at the same time.
We both need relief. We both deserve relief.
And when we come together over his valley of deeply creviced ab muscles, it’s like a river we’ve carved together of our long-delayed satisfaction.
Neither of us will forget tonight for a long time.
“I’ve never felt so …” Tye interrupts himself with a sudden bout of laughter, which fills my little bedroom space.
We’re both lying on our backs, staring up at the ceiling, mostly naked, and his head is rested on my arm, which I slid behind it, with his body somewhat pressed against mine. I’ve freed his arms and legs. Neither of us have bothered to clean up, for now enjoying the peaceful afterglow too much to care about the mess on our bodies.
I lean my head a bit to the side, feeling the tiny spikes of his buzzed head against my cheek. “You never felt so what?”
“Everything?”
After such a long overdue orgasm, every little thought feels so profound and reality-breaking. “I just realized I don’t know the first damned thing about you. Where you live. Who you live with. Or if you got a brother or sister … or both? If you’re in school, or got a job, or homeless …”
“Huh, true. I didn’t mean to hide anything. I guess I just …” He seems to smile, from the tone of his voice. “I don’t know a lot about you, either.”
“Let’s remedy this,” I suggest.
“Let’s. So I live in East City, just before the—”
I press a finger to his lips. “After a shower.”
“Or … in the shower?”
I smirk, liking the way he thinks.
A minute later, we’re shrouded in steam in my shower, which is also a dramatically big area made out of an old utility closet, which used to store tons of supplies for the building and has a water main. In that shower, while washing like a pair of sweaty dudes in a locker room after a gym session, we spitfire factoids about ourselves at each other like a verbal tennis match.
