It was dim in the room when I looked at him, this placid creature of lust. The moonlight softly gleaming through the windows danced with the shadows on his body, emphasizing the features they performed on. I looked on at this myriad display of exhibition as my member started to thicken in my drawers. Begging to escape and longing for attention. We had only met a few short moments when he asked me to go with him, and for once in my life I had went on a whim.

I remembered how he looked at me back at the party; eying me precociously, seductively with hunger, and stripping me naked with his eyes, with a deep forlorn stare. I recognized the longing, the wanting, and the needing. To touch someone and feel the closeness that can only be brought on by another's flesh. I had intended on ignoring him but his eyes refused to let me go, my body refused to respond to my logic as he approached me ever so shyly. He introduced himself, his voice deep and reverberating, his laugh a pleasant chorus, penetrating my ears and throughout my entirety. My mind had gone blank for but a moment. My composure had taken a short break but I held my standing as I took to conversation to examine his face ever so closely: a finely trimmed beard with a goatee that helped define a strong jaw, a pointed nose that fit his face proportioned and invasive, his hair black, dark, and waxen, and his eyes that he used to root me, a jaded green. His body went without saying, his fashion clinging taught against it. My other twitched against my zipper, only to spur on my heated debate. I was surprised of how quickly I had taken to this man, this creation of masculinity. I could only stare.

And then he said those words that had sealed my conscience:

"Come with me..."

So I did.

Now I stood at the foot of the bed waiting for the physical discourse. I looked at him with such tempest, a rush of excitement and anxiety, a taste of Paradise and Damnation. He beckoned me with his hand so gingerly, waiting for me on the sheeted altar. I tried to move but my hesitation hindered me. He sensed my impediment and came to me like a predator in the night, gentle and silent. His nakedness gleamed in the moonshine, reflecting his emphasis of want. He wrapped his strength around me and I felt his soothing warmth and protection. I could hear the kindness in his arms.

"Is this your fist time?"

I replied sheepishly with yes as he smiled in response.

"It's alright we'll go slow."

He reached his hand around and cupped my neck, as we pulled in for a light taste, teasing, sensuous. His lips were smooth and inviting as his hands started to undress me slowly. He kissed me like glass, fearing I would break under the weight of his wantonness. My hands were gone, left me behind, taken to an early exploration of this man's temple. I let out a whispered sigh as his tongue entered my mouth searching for a partner to play with, as the last article of my imprisonment, my underwear, fell nonchalantly to the floor. He took my hand, gripped me firmly, and smiled to reassure me. I nodded and followed him to the sacrifice.

I fell on the bed. He followed me like