Savoring a Kiss
Walt and I were getting changed for bed when he quoted Shakespeare in reference to Judy. “’Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.’ That’s from…”
“It’s from Macbeth. I do pay attention when you talk. I like it when you yell at the laundry. ‘Out, damned spot! Out, I say!’ Always makes me laugh.”
“Sometimes I forget how observant you are.”
I was buttoning my pajama shirt when my right hand locked. I slammed it against the dresser in a fit of temper, then regretted it when it fought back with pain. I leaned against the heavy piece of furniture and asked for help. Walt came over to do up the oversized buttons.
The shirt was one he picked because of the big buttons. He hoped they’d be easier for me to manage. Most of the time they were, but since the winter got cold, my hands had been as useless as if they were made of wet clay. He finished with my shirt and took my painfully locked hand between his to massage. The warmth of his hands and the pressure of his grip relaxed the joints and got them moving again.
I grumbled. “I hate needing help.”
“I know, Love.”
“I hate being old.”
“I know. I’m not thrilled about it either.”
“I’m so fucking jealous of Charlie. What I wouldn’t give to be in his shoes. Not only is he young, but he’s tall and blond and beautiful. Did you see how tight his jeans are? Made me feel like a creepy old pervert when I noticed.”
An amused smile spread over his face as he finished with my right hand and started to massage the left. “When he was talking about him and Judy sneaking away to swap oral, I had a fantasy that I was a much younger man and he and I were sneaking away to do the same. I wonder if he’s big like his father is.”
“He probably is. I bet it runs in the family. Larry is big.”
“I forgot you saw him. You’re probably right. I would like to be young again, but only if I could keep the knowledge I earned from the years I already lived. I wouldn’t go back and start again for anything, not even if I got to be blond and hung.”
“Did you ever do anything like they did? Did you ever have a special friend like that?”
He finished with my hand and released it. “Does that feel better?”
“It does, thank you.”
He shivered. “Brrr, it’s cold in here. Let’s get in bed.”
We got in bed and covered up under the heavy layers of blankets. The old house had steam heat in addition to the fireplace, but the system didn’t work very well, and our bedroom tended to be cold. I tried to have the boiler replaced with a modern system. I’d seen where they were doing great things with something called ‘forced air.’ Instead of a boiler and steam, they used a furnace and metal ducts to push hot air around the house. I loved the idea of every room being toasty warm with its own supply of hot air, but Walt would have nothing to do with the idea. He said removing the radiators would change the whole character of the spaces, something he refused to allow.
I snuggled into the bed and waited for it to warm up around me. Walt answered the question I asked earlier. “I knew Lee Mathias in culinary school. He looked Italian, but I don’t think he was. Maybe only on his mother’s side. He had curly black hair and heavy Italian features with full lips that I loved to kiss. He was on the baseball team with me. He was the catcher and I played third base. His legs and his ass were so strong from being squatted down all the time, the things he could do with them…he could ride for hours.
“He loved men and was probably the strictest bottom I ever met. Once he found out we were the same, he was after me all the time. I was Charlie’s age, so I took advantage. He was adventurous. When I played ball, I would get to the locker room extra early to change before the others got there. I didn’t want to risk being naked with a bunch of guys I was attracted to. Lee found out and started to get there early along with me. He’d suck me off before every game. After the game, we’d wait around for everyone to leave so we could shower together. He’d bottom for me under the hot water.
“The funny thing was, there was almost nothing mutual about the arrangement. He absolutely refused to top. I think he only let me suck him a couple times. He had huge nipples. They were dark and hairy and bigger than silver dollars. The tits were as long and thick like a woman’s. His pleasure seemed to come from them. He’d beg me to chew on them.
“That time I spent with him was probably the closest thing to a purely physical relationship I ever had. We could never have been boyfriends, but the sex was amazing. Our encounters went on for most of my Junior year. When I went back for my Senior year, he wasn’t there. I never found out what happened to him. I didn’t have his address to write or anything. It was strange when I realized that he and I weren’t even friends. We were like rutting animals. We’d come together to get what we wanted, then break apart and go about our lives. There was nothing else. I didn’t even miss him when he was gone.”
He rolled to look my way. “What about you?”
“I never had a friend like you’re talking about, but I spent a ton of time at Mitch’s whorehouse. My stint as her Errant Hero of Law and Order lasted from about 1923 to 1931. I didn’t have to pay for my fun, but I tipped lavishly when one of the whores made me feel like they enjoyed our time together. There were a few who sought my company. I remember one in particular because he was so different from the rest.
“Rus was a pale Russian with black hair and a permanent scowl. His name wasn’t actually Rus. He had one of those names that was all consonants and no one knew how to pronounce it. We called him Rus because that was short for ‘Russian.’ He had more tattoos than anyone I’d ever seen. Most of his body was covered. He even had a Russian word tattooed on his cock. He kept himself smooth to show off the ink. He was good looking and very strong even though he was only a medium-size man. He also had a thick accent and a deep, bass voice that really turned me on.
“He was the only one I bottomed for regularly. Most of the time I topped. Sometimes I would bottom if I wanted to feel something different, but it wasn’t common. Something about Rus made me want to bottom. For about six months, maybe a little more, I gave myself to him almost every night. He always made sure I got off. He was willing to bottom, but I only topped him once or twice. The rest of the time, I bottomed and loved it. I started to crave the feeling of him inside me. He loved to do me on my back because he loved my scars.”
Walt was surprised. “He loved them?”
“Yeah, it was the strangest thing. He saw them as art, like those weird paintings that are all splashes of color. He was into tattoos like I said. He was also a tattoo artist. He had this idea that he wanted to turn my scars into art. He would imagine what he wanted to do and draw with his fingers while we were having sex.
“He wanted to cut me with a knife to give me fresh scars to connect the ones I already had, then fill in with shading and stuff with tattoo ink. He begged me to let him. I almost did, but it felt like a desecration of Peter’s monument, so I didn’t. One time, I let him draw on me with ink. It took a couple hours to complete the design. We had Mitch take photographs. The design was impressive, almost like a mountain range in the mist, but like I said, I never let him make it permanent.”
Walt thought the idea was interesting, but he understood why I didn’t go through with it. “I’d like to see those pictures. It’s a shame you don’t still have any.”
“I never had any. Mitch kept one and Rus kept the other.”
“Your scowly Russian sounds hot.”
“Your deviant catcher sounds hot, too.”
He rubbed his hand over my chest. “You feel like giving me a kiss, only lower?”
I recognized where the words came from and chuckled. “Don’t be so square, Love, it’s just oral.”
He laughed with me. I pointed to the writing desk in the corner. “Do you think that desk would support your weight?”
“It’s solid oak. I’m sure it would.”
“Take your pants off and sit on the edge of it. I’ll kiss you from the chair. I’d love to do it properly on my knees, but if I got down, I’d never get back up.”
He rubbed my chest a little more. “You poor thing. I’m sorry you hurt all the time.”
I patted the back of his hand with mine. “At least the important stuff still works.”
“Your cock?”
I laughed again. “I was going to say my mind, but I’m glad my cock still works as well.”
He laughed with me. “Me too.”
We got out of bed. Walt grabbed a pair of towels from the linen closet, one to sit on and one to clean up with after and set himself up like I suggested. I pulled the chair out to sit between his legs, but he stopped me. “I’m sorry for assuming this is what you’d want to do. Would you rather something else? Would you like to top me, or bottom?”
I sat and scooted the chair forward to get closer to my goal. I rubbed his furry thighs and marveled at how strong the muscles still felt. “Let’s stick with this. We don’t have a private bathroom here and I don’t want to risk waking Charlie by going in there to clean out for sex. He asked for more of my ‘gross rye’ to help him fall asleep and I wouldn’t disturb him for anything.”
I leaned forward to rub my face on the smooth skin of his inner thigh. “Besides, this is one of my favorite places.” I scented his white bush and sighed with enjoyment. “It smells good and there’s fun things to play with.”
He ran his fingers through my hair. “Far be it for me to deny you your prize.”
I nuzzled his package and watched as his cock inflated. “You’re still so virile. This thing stands up like it hasn’t aged a day in all the time I’ve known you.”
“Your attention keeps it young.”
I started to reach with my right hand but remembered its habit of locking up at the worst moments. I used my left to peel his foreskin back so I could lick the mushroom head. It felt like velvet on my tongue. He shivered from my attention. I teased him. “You like that or are you just cold?”
“Both. Maybe you’re right about the heating system in this house.”
I exhaled a breath to warm his package. “I know I’m right. Let’s get someone in to look at the house. Maybe you can keep the radiators, and someone can make them work better. I’m open to anything that gets more heat into this room.”
I exhaled on him again and he sighed. “You bring all the heat I need.”
I licked him again. “Flatterer.”
I dove forward to take his whole length into my throat. He gasped like he always does and enjoyed my attention. He rubbed and stroked my head, not to guide me, but because he knew I loved it. I blew him the way he liked, plenty of throat and not too much tenderness. Walt could be very tender when making love. Our sessions usually lasted a long time and involved tons of kissing and play. During lovemaking, getting off was secondary to the pleasure of enjoying each other.
Blow jobs were different. Walt summarized his attitude toward them once, a long time ago. “If I’m climbing a mountain, I’m doing it to reach the top. I don’t want to get close, and climb down a bit, then get close again, then climb down again, over and over until I finally decide to reach the summit. I just want to get there.”
He meant he didn’t want me to make love to his cock. He just wanted to feel good until he climaxed. I appreciated the direct approach. It’s what I was best at.
I worked my mouth and tongue up and down his length while he rubbed my head and moaned softly. He didn’t warn me when his climax was coming. I knew him well enough to anticipate. When his moans grew more desperate and his legs began to tremble, I knew I was about to receive a treat. He gasped and shot across my tongue. He shot less than he used to, but it still tasted like him. I swirled my tongue around his cock again until he pushed me away like I knew he would.
He leaned back to catch his breath. I cleaned his deflating package up with the hand towel to keep him from getting too cold as the moisture evaporated. His breath hitched as I did because he was still sensitive.
He leaned down to kiss me and ask if I was ready for my turn.
“Will you get upset if I ask for a rain check?”
“I won’t get upset, but I’d like to know why.”
“I’m fucking freezing! I want to get under the covers more than I want to get off.”
He kissed me again, more tenderly this time. “I’m sorry, Love. Go ahead and get back in bed. I’ll join you in a second.”
I did as he said and pulled the covers up to my chin. He put the towels in the hamper, then joined me and rolled just about on top of me. I thanked him for his heat. He kissed my cheek. “I’ll telephone our boiler man and see if there’s something he can do to make the heating work better. If we’ve got to replace the system, we’ll do it. You should be comfortable in both of our homes.”
I appreciated the concession. “Thanks, Love. We’ll make sure whatever changes are necessary are done carefully. I know how much you love this house and everything in it. We shouldn’t have to alter the character of the house to be warm inside it.”
He kissed me again. “Don’t forget I owe you one. You may collect it anytime.”
“I look forward to it. Let’s wait until we’re back in the city and I can be a little noisy.”
“It’s a date. Are you warm enough yet?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He rolled off me and wished me a ‘good night.’
I wished him a good night and composed myself to sleep.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
