it, he was ready, and I attacked this new challenge with less urgency, and far more passion.

We managed to go slowly this time, something like an exploration, and when it came time to bring things to a conclusion this time, I withdrew, and watched in awe as I manipulated him to match his first performance and then surpass it by quite some margin. Though to me, it seemed a waste, it was beautifully powerful and erotically masculine, and fueled me, quite without my being aware, to a similar performance of my own. I didn’t even realize it had happened until I felt the warmth pass through my pants.

He dressed quietly, and we sat in the dark for a long time, whispering and giggling. We talked about everything and nothing, and neither of us were willing to stand and make an end of it. The whispers finally lapsed into silence for several long moments.

I looked up at him and met his gaze, which was gentle and benevolent. I squeezed his hands, and formed the question on my lips that had been plaguing me since we had met. “Are you at all conceptually aware of how beautiful you are?”