Narrator: Kieth Penningway
My thighs spasmed, no longer by involuntary and voluntary thrusts, but in a pain that brought me to my knees. And so there I was, kneeling on the floor of my bedroom as if to pray -- or perhaps to resume rimming the ass in front of me.
"Man, what the fuck are you doing?" asked Greg. He was impatient, turning around to check on why I wasn't going in and out of him like one of my grandmother's knitting needles.
"I can't," I sighed. "I wish I could, but I can't."
Greg turned himself around, frowning, and looked down off the edge of the bed. His eyebrows clenched together, eyes wide. He nearly drooled. "You don't look like you can't."
"You're too attractive for that to be the problem," I told him, stroking one shoulder gently. Geez, he had the sculpted body of a Greek statue. It was so hard to resist, but I could feel the ache in the core of my cock and the bruising around my ass. It felt worse than all those kicks, but it was a good pain.
He folded his feet and looked at me seriously, "You're tired? I mean, I can understand if you can't get another load out, but you're tired?"
I nodded. He was an athlete, and I wasn't. Simple as that. And it just kept hurting, never deflating.
"How bad's the pain?" he asked, his face suddenly compassionate.
I sat on the bed beside him, stroking one of his soft, hairy legs. "I can't go on tonight, top or bottom. I don't think my mouth could even take another deep-throat. I need to rest, Greg. Heck, I should be downstairs helping Joshua clean up before my parents get home, and I don't think I can even manage that."
Greg was silent, but his face remained uncharacteristically sad. Unlike me, his erection was slowly drooping. In an odd way, I was jealous; I wanted my pain to lessen.
Then, something surfaced in my mind. I had been trying to ignore it for so long. It had occurred to me, over and over again, but I suppressed it. As if it were noise, I thought everything else louder.
I had yet to see tonight how Greg behaved alone with me when we weren't having sex. And that had been impossible, until now. I needed more than lust in my life. And if that's all Greg was to me, then I knew I'd have to blow out this rekindled flame.
I held the candle to my mouth and inhaled.
My latest sheepskin sheath fell gently to the bottom of my waste basket.
"It's all right, I'll help Joshua," Greg said, pulling on a clean pair of my underwear. "He'll be my brother too, one day."
Inside, my thoughts sighed with relief. And on my face, I wore a perfect smile. "Thank you, Gregory."
I had never called him that in a long, long time. I had always reserved it for those moments that were very, very sublime.
He did a double-take, looking up from the zipper of his pants. And the nostalgia hit him, quite visibly, in the face. He turned a shade of red I'd never seen, despite all the orgasms I'd elicited from him, past and present.
Greg leaned over me, where I was now lying in bed, and kissed me softly, and quite innocently, on the lips. He whispered, "I've been so wrong, for so, so long... how can you forgive me, Kieth?"
I smiled, eyes closed. And then I answered, "You'll find out soon enough."
He pulled a clean t-shirt out of my closet and put it on, then walked out of the room, turning off the lights as he did.
I fell asleep shortly thereafter, feeling relaxed and in control of myself. In control of my life. In control of my pain. It had been so long since I'd felt this way. So long since I'd felt free.
I knew they'd be back home soon. And I didn't care at all.
I ached a good ache, I waited a good wait.