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A New Boy, (Part One of Many)

Posted by: Author: Age: 19 Posted on: 0 comments
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After a month or so of being broken up, I finally have someone new. We've been hanging out for about a month and a half now.


[Patrick is exquisite. This is more of an homage to him than it is a story of explicit sexual detail, although I assure you it is intensely sexual, and the stories to follow are even more so.

I have had a few experiences of rushing into things and ending up hurt, so he and I have been taking things slowly, and the anticipation at this point is . . . excruciatingly pleasing.]

The first time I spent the night at his house, while his roommate snored for hours just across the room from us, we kissed and touched almost until the sun came up. He's beautiful. He's quite slender (which is my preference in young men) but muscular, with broad shoulders and strong arms that define him as a man. His soft lips begged to be kissed, and I always acquiesce. Even when he's jokingly teased me, and I've insisted I'm not going to kiss him again until he's apologized, the most I've lasted is a few seconds. His blue eyes melt my heart. No matter how tired I am, I always force my eyes open, blinking and squinting, as long as I can, just so we can continue to look at one another.

He knew I wanted to kiss him. He had known for days before it finally happened that first night in his bed. Gentle kisses quickly became faster and harder, and clothes soon littered the floor. I was so pleasantly surprised by his skill in kissing. A combination of that and how very much I had been wanting to share this intimacy with him led me to be very, very aroused within a few minutes. For most of the time we kissed and groped, my legs wrapped around him, or his hands exploring the soft skin of a new lover, no thoughts distracted me whatsoever, but at one point, I remembered how much certain boys in the past have enjoyed having their necks kissed, so I decided to try it on him. It worked sublimely. I could feel his hardness pulsing beneath me as I first softly, then more passionately kissed his neck and collarbones. He writhed in pleasure beneath me, the two of us pressed together so tightly, and every movement of his increased the need in me. It was ages before we worked up the nerve to go farther, but as intensely aroused as I was, deeply aching to be touched, I imagined his feeling the same, and slowly worked my way around his lower stomach and thighs, and carefully onto more delicate parts. As his fingertips tickled the area just beneath my panty line, daring again and again to venture lower, every second that passed brought me to a new level of desperation. And then it happened. Two strong fingers thrust inside me, evoking the greatest sense of relief . . . and of want for more. We worked in unison, our passion heating and pleasure constantly increasing. My hips uncontrollably thrust against him, pulling him deeper and deeper still, and our arms bumped awkwardly as we worked our hardest to please one another.

[These subtle movements of his body, they captivate my thoughts when he's not around. The upward tilt of his head when I kiss his neck, these little breaths he lets out every now and again, and this involuntary push of his hips against mine, they arouse me whenever I imagine them. I've been imagining them tonight.]

I've always had a difficult time reaching orgasm, so he logically neared his, and stopped working on me to concentrate on his own pleasure, long before mine was near. I had been stroking him firmly but slowly at first, with small breaks from that to massage his balls, and later stroked faster, as I sensed he wanted it. I could feel his racing heartbeat, I heard the desperation in his breathing, and I revelled in these small movements that I'd soon come to treasure so dearly. Body sometimes twitching and buckling under the pressure, he nearly gave way, but grabbed my hand and begged a whispered 'Stop! [gasp] I'm about to cum. I'm about to cum.' Motionless, hand still gripping what is honestly the most gorgeous penis I've seen, I hovered over my boy, who spent the next few minutes panting and twitching as he inched away from his orgasm. I figured he hadn't wanted to make a mess. More nights have offered me further insight, and I'll certainly share those with you soon . . .



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