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Thursday, November 22, 2012

The Ideal Side of Love

The Ideal Side of Love
‘Average, but extraordinary, and only twice in a lifetime.’
Stephen Prichard is a resilient and self-made man that has it all, a successful business, great husband, and a summer condo on the waterfront, until life throws a curve ball. After twelve years together, his husband Myron dies of cancer, leaving Stephen to confront a future of uncertainties alone.
Then, fate lends a hand when not one, but two chance encounters with the same stranger put his feelings to the test. First and second impressions are lasting. Stephen longs for companionship, and the stranger is attractive, however, he’s also enigmatic and cold, and the memories of Myron are still painfully fresh.
Can a man Stephen barely knows renew his faith in love? But, more importantly, is he willing to let go of the past?
We scarcely made it inside my house before Carson came at me, stripping off his shirt in the process. My rule, no intercourse on the first night, actually not for the first year—and guess what—yep, I was lousy at enforcing my own damned rules. But the situation with him was unusual, certainly different than anything I had experienced, even within my marriage. From what I’d gathered so far, he was a persistent man, and determined to get his way. I’d sensed that when he made a decision it would be absolute. We met. We felt a mutual attraction. So, he’d made up his mind. We were going to spend the weekend together, and I had to assume, if the sex equaled the attraction, we’d be an item.
My lower back rode the edge of the kitchen counter and I struggled to remove my jacket because he refused to stop kissing me. And, I tell you, the man had a set of lips that could suck the paint off drywall. He grabbed my face and used his tongue again. I moaned, completely dazed and dropped my keys. It had been so long since I’d had sex, the only thing on my fevered brain was his mouth and hands all over me, and his cock inside me. The keys were knocked about between our feet. My heart beat hard, my flesh burned under his touch and all my senses were on high alert. Just the scented heat of him, everything about the man drove me wild.
“No disrespect, Stephan,” he gasped, “but we don’t need an audience. I want every inch of you to myself.” He laid Myron’s picture flat then walked me toward the great room by my ribs. We kissed again and he undid my slacks, digging his fingers in under the waistline. “First I’m going to suck you off,” he said, nibbling on my lips. “And then I’m going to make love to you.”
“Don’t I get a say--eh?” my voice spilled with nervous excitement when his tongue flicked my nipples and he strong fingers raked down my spine.
He kissed my stomach, inching down to lick my already rigid cock. Strumming my balls, he started to suck, his head moved back and forth from my groin. Devouring then releasing my shaft. The warm pressure felt unbelievable, coaxing more from me.
No warning. Nothing. My sac tightened to a ridge of wrinkles, my spine arched, and I gawked at the fireplace in the great room, holding his head. All of a sudden, the energy drained from my cock like a geyser. I groaned loud as he swallowed every ounce of my cum.
His hot, sweaty body brushed mine as he rose to face me.
“Where’s your bedroom?” He unsnapped his jeans and sloughed them to the carpet.
“At…at the end of the hall.”
Lifting one foot followed by the other, he stepped away from the worn material, allowing an unobstructed view of his entire body. I glanced down, if for a second, and my breath knotted in my throat.
He was just as I imagined, boxy with muscles to spare. He had smooth, dark-blond hair from collarbones to groin, a hooded cock that wasn’t overly long, but extra wide and extra thick. His balls were big and heavy and his partial erection pressed at my hip. Carson was a powerful man and well defined—certainly bigger than me, and an unusual choice, but attractive, and his piercing stare penetrated my soul.
Holding either side of my rib cage, he walked me backward through the hallway, easing close every few feet to kiss me. At the master bedroom door, he groped blindly in the region of the knob, it clicked and the door swung wide and away from us.
Inside the room, white sheers hung in front of the French doors, just off my private patio—partly concealing the glass panes. Remnants of moonlight distorted by the sweeping motion of tree branches, fluctuated from warm to cold across the carpet and doors.
“It’s pretty dark in here.” I went to flip on the light.
He held my wrist in a steadfast grip. “I like the dark.”
His hips pivoted, and his cock brushed mine—thick and sticky with heat and the heady scent of arousal. Then, he rubbed his groin in a circular motion against my dick and his grew, rising to a throbbing arc. My calves bumped the mattress edge with nowhere else to go. We’d reached my bed, my dick was hard, and the anticipation of human contact sent my senses into a heightened overdrive. As my gaze met his with unease, I tensed, and trembled slightly from the legs up.
“It’s been so long,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“I’ll take it slow,” he promised in my ear.
We embraced, falling onto the blankets. We kissed and fondled for a long time, getting to know and appreciate each other’s body.
“You’re really sexy.” Massaging my sac gently, he kissed my chin.
“If you say so.”
“I do. Give me a sec.” He rolled over and climbed off the bed.
Resting on my elbows, I kind of sat up to see where he’d go.
“Don’t move.” He paused in the doorway and smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
Thirty seconds later, he reappeared with his duffel bag. Dropping it on the floor, he crouched and unzipped a side pouch. Some type of plastic packaging crinkled then the bed bounced and he knelt between my legs.
“Condoms and lube,” I laughed. “All you had to do was say.”
“What kind of asshole would ask you out on a date and not bring the protection himself?” He tore open a black and neon pink condom wrapper with his teeth—the sound of rubber snapped. “It’s called respect.” Seated on his ankles, he stroked his cock with methodical precision. Soon as it rose to that swollen tower, he pushed the condom down to the base, and twisted open a tube of lubricant. “I was wrong, you’re more than sexy,” he whispered, expressing pure affection. “You’re beautiful.”
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