Antarctic Summer Part 3
When my eyes opened the next morning, my brain refused to function for a while. I couldn't think. And then suddenly I could. I remembered the night before. Holy fuck. I had jerked off with a straight guy. I remembered sucking his finger. I winced and squirmed. What had we done? Had we fucked things up so that the next four-and-a-half months would be hell?
A wave of anxiety washed over me. I knew it was partly from being hung over from the wine and especially the THC, but I felt like we had made a big mistake. I dressed quickly and carefully emerged from my room.
Zalan was sitting at our little table with a mug of coffee and an apple. He looked up and smiled. I could tell he was feeling much the same as I was. I tried to smile and said, “How's your head?”
His smile got bigger. “A little slow this morning. And you?”
“Yeah, slow. That's a good way to put it.”
I wondered if we were going to talk about what we had done. I wondered if we needed to talk about it. I wasn't sure. I got myself some coffee and sat down across from him. His face was a little puffy and his eyes were still red. I'm sure I looked the same. His hair was all over the place in distractingly cute ways.
He cleared his throat and said, “So...last night...”
I gulped. “Um, yeah...it was fun?”
He nodded, but didn't say anything. In fact, as we made some breakfast and then cleaned up, as we sat at our desks and did some mindless work, as we had lunch and spent the afternoon watching a movie on his laptop, he didn't once mention what we had done. Other than that one nod of acknowledging that it had been fun, he didn't say another word about it. I wanted to, but there was something in his manner that told me to back off.
So I did. For the next few days, I spent many evenings stroking myself to the memory of his cock, the taste of his precum, the feel of his warm, taut body next to mine, the sight of him pumping a load out onto his hairy chest. But he and I didn't say another word about it.
I wondered if he was embarrassed, or worse, ashamed of what we had done. Or if he thought of it as a drunken/stoned escapade not worthy of further discussion. I had no idea. It was making me a little crazy. But after a couple of weeks, I settled down and our work consumed us again.
Otherwise he seemed the same. He was friendly, he was open. We still talked about our lives and what our futures might look like. Just no mention of sex. At all.
I decided to let him be. He was straight, so I was in no position to force him into exploring something that he wasn't, at heart, into. We had been stoned and it had been fun and that was that. It was my own sexual frustration that helped me because, one night with my cock in my hand and a pool of cum on my belly, I realized I wasn't the only one in that state, who was going a little crazy for the lack of sex. Of course he was. So that evening on his bed was just that: a way to let off steam. Nothing more.
--
Antarctic spring became Antarctic summer. That means, of course, that there is less and less dark. More and more sun. Not warm sun, mind you, but lots of it. As the end of the year approached, it was daylight all the time, except for a couple of hours of twilight. We watched the sun basically circle us, rather than arcing over us. It would be strange if you had never seen it before.
There was more wildlife along the shore. Walrus and seals, mostly. Various kinds of sea birds nesting in the rocks. We stayed out of their way.
We measured soil temperature, temperature gradients, moisture levels. Boring stuff, really. But essential. It was our thing. It was the reason we were there.
One morning about a week before Christmas, I asked Zalan, “What do you eat at Christmas in Hungary?”
His face lit up. “Oh...this will be torture to tell you...on Christmas Eve my mother makes Halászlé...” He stopped, clearly remembering. He looked at me and said, “Fish stew. Spicy. Delicious.”
I nodded and said, “My mum makes roast beef...Yorkshire pudding...oh God, I'm going to miss that.”
“Then, on Christmas Day she makes Töltött Káposzta. It's a...how do you say this? Cabbage. Yes cabbage stuffed with delicious things.”
I was less convinced by the cabbage, but I didn't say anything. “We have turkey...my mum makes the best gravy...” I trailed off, also remembering many happy meals when I was a child, at a time when my brother and I had been closer. Before I came out. Me coming out changed the dynamics of everything in the family. We were still close, still loving, but somehow it was like we were different species or something.
I shook my head. “Apparently there are Christmas dinners in the freezer at the main Centre we can have....if you want?”
Zalan still looked a bit sad, but he nodded. “I suppose it will have to do.”
So I contacted Thad and along with the usual supplies, I ordered two frozen Christmas dinners and, to my great happiness, they had bottles of fizzy wine. I thought we could at least attempt something festive.
The week past and as the solstice came and went with constant sunlight we found ourselves at Christmas Eve. It didn't feel all that festive. The constant sunlight seemed to be at odds with what I was used to: dark, sometimes snowy, always damp Christmases in southern England. Zalan was used to much the same in Hungary, so the relentless glare was getting on our nerves.
On December 24, we had our usual frozen meal and I opened a bottle of sparkling wine, trying to be festive, trying to dispel the surreal feeling of constant sunlight. We ate our food, not saying much. I think we were both missing our families. I tried to make light, but it seemed to go nowhere. It was not going to be a very good Christmas.
After dinner we both video-called our loved ones. My mum looked sad which, strange to say, felt nice since it meant she missed me. I had a brief conversation with Ilya and Stephen and envied their life. It left me feeling hollow and lost. Zalan emerged from his room after his call and his face was still and solemn. I wondered if it might have been better to not have made those calls.
We sat on the sofa with our wine glasses and watched a stupid Christmas movie on my laptop with our very intermittent satellite internet. Halfway through, it just stopped working. Zalan swore and suddenly got up and disappeared. I almost though he was going to bed, but he returned with a joint. I raised my eyebrows at him and said, “You want to try that again?”
He shrugged. It was a kind of Hungarian shrug, I thought, full of meanings and sarcasm and other things that were hard to read. He threw himself on the sofa and lit the joint without another word. He handed it to me and soon we were both pretty baked. Drunk and baked. Fizzy wine does that to me. I propositioned a straight solicitor at a party once under the influence of champagne. It didn't go well.
But of course I remembered what happened the last time we were in that state and I also hoped something like it would happen again. Or more.
I put on some Christmas music I had on my phone and lay back on the sofa, closing my eyes and letting myself float away on the nice feelings. As I lay there, not really conscious of much but the slow spinning of my head, I started to feel Zalan shift beside me. Suddenly I felt his head in my lap.
My eyes flew open. Startled, looking down at him, I was struck by how nice it felt to be touched, to feel his weight on me, warm and safe. He was lying there with his eyes closed, not moving. Very quietly and softly, I said, “Zalan...what...?” I didn't know how to ask what he was doing.
One eye opened and he said, “You British are too uptight. We're friends, aren't we? This is just me expressing my friendship. That is all.” His Hungarian accent seemed thicker. His eyes were half-closed. There had been something in his voice that left me not convinced that was indeed all.
So I said, “Well I'm glad.” And I was glad. But also other things.
We stayed that way for a while, listening to the music, talking idly about nothing. I handed him his glass and we finished the bottle. I was quite drunk. At one point I put my hand on his chest and he put his hand on mine. It felt so simple and so intense at the same time. I was afraid to move. I could feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his strong chest, The weight of his head on my thighs. His breathing was slow and smooth. It was really nice.
So nice, I guess, that I dozed off for a while. When I slowly came back to reality, the music had stopped and the room was absolutely silent, but bright with the eternal sunshine. Zalan was still lying with his head in my lap and he was looking at me. Very intently.
I grinned and said, “How are you?”
In answer, he sat up, still holding my hand. He said so softly I could barely make out the words, “I want to kiss you...”
His words were like a spell because I couldn't react, I just nodded. I decided if there were questions to be asked, they could be asked later. He was already sitting very close to me so all he had to do was lean in and our lips met oh-so-softly. Just a touch. He was staring at me with his big brown eyes, a question hanging in the air between us. His breath was warm on my face. I managed to say, “And?”
A very slow smile appeared on his face. “It was nice.”
I swallowed, suddenly feeling a little buzz of anxiety and said, “You want to do it again?”
His face seemed calm. There was a wavy lock of hair hanging down over one eye which was alluring and sweet. I felt like I was trying to tame a forest creature who might bolt at any moment.
Zalan blinked and said, “Yes...” And he did. He leaned forward and kissed me with a bit more energy, opening his lips a little, so I followed suit. It felt insanely erotic. My body began to hum and things were going on in my trousers. He leaned back and just looked at me. He took my hand and brought it to his full, moist lips and kissed my palm. The formality of it, the slow-motion elegance of the gesture lit a little fire in my gut that burned suddenly very hot. I had rarely felt such simple things to be so incandescent.
As he stared at me, I began to feel a little awkward because I wasn't sure if he was just experimenting or if he was really interested in finding out what intimacy with a man was like. I decided to push my luck. I leaned in and kissed him this time. A little more forcefully. Our mouths opened more, his lips pushed against mine. He tasted of wine. The softness, the suppleness of his lips felt vulnerable in a way that contrasted with his masculinity. I very gently slid my tongue over his lips and it met his. It felt so intense that when his tongue moved against mine I thought I was going to cum right then and there.
But then he pulled back and I thought the moment was over, that some part of him had woken up and realized what he was doing. But instead, he looked at me again, his brown eyes bright, his mouth slightly open, his lips wet from our kisses. He very slowly moved his hands down to his waist and began to slide his shirt up, revealing his torso. With a smooth movement he pulled is over his head and tossed it onto the floor.
His chest was magnificent, with a not-too-thick fur of dark hair that seemed slightly trimmed. His pecs were defined but not built, his stomach flat but not rigid. With a little grin he undid the fly of his trousers and awkwardly struggled out of them. He glanced at me once, then pulled his briefs off and threw them with a chuckle, as if he couldn't believe what he was doing. I quickly pulled my clothes off, not wanting to risk this moment being lost. To my surprise, he helped me by pulling off my socks.
I glanced at his cock surrounded by all that black hair. It was semi-hard and looked very meaty, the foreskin so suckable.
He turned to me again and put one hand on my chest very softly. He looked into my eyes and smiled, then slid it down to my belly, through my soft, scant brown hair. My cock, raging and wet, he seemed to ignore. He brought his hand back my chest and gently pushed and I fell backward. He followed until he was lying on top of me and I could feel all of him: his furred chest, his belly and his cock – now as hard as mine I was pleased to feel - and his balls, his strong thighs, even his feet.
He said very softly, “You feel very good, Nathan.” His lips were almost touching mine. I could feel the breath of every word. I could smell the warmth of his body. It was like leather and earth and something gentle and sensual. I couldn't say anything. The feeling of his whole body pressing into mine was literally what I had fantasized about for weeks. All I could do was smile at him. I ran my hand very lightly down his back to his plump, smooth ass, trailing my fingers over the surface of those pale muscles. I felt him shiver. His cock felt hot, nestled against mine, pulsing occasionally.
Still looking directly into my eyes, our lips met again, and again, moving, caressing, sliding. His tongue began to push further into my mouth and in my stoned head felt like a second cock, the other one very slowly beginning to slide against mine, his hips barely moving.
This went on and on, this slow communion of mouth and lips, tongue and body, my hands all over his strong back, or cupping the roundness of his ass.
Time seemed to slide away from us. My head was clearing but I was still burning for him. I took his butt in my hands more firmly and dragged my cock against his.
His eyes widened and his mouth moved against mine with more energy, our lips squishing together. Then he leaned back and I could see him looking at my whole face. He said, “I'm not so stoned any more. And now I know something for sure.”
I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry. “What's that?”
“I still want you.”
“You thought it was because you were stoned?”
His face seemed to relax. “I wondered.”
I dug my hand into his hair, enjoying the waves on my fingers. “Are you surprised?”
He just nodded very slowly, but still with the soft smile.
“Good. We're both surprised.”
He shifted and slid back a little, dragging his cock against mine which made me gasp. He put his head on my chest. I could see a lot of things going on his that Hungarian brain of his. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he said, “When I was younger, before I met my wife, before I had my first girlfriend – I think it was the same year – a friend of mine kissed me and put his hand in my trousers one night when we had got a little drunk. He was my best friend but I didn't react well. What scared me at the time was the fact that a part of me wanted to find out what it might be like to be with him, to have sex with him. But I couldn't. And, Nathan, a part of me has always wondered even though the opportunity has never come up again. Until now.
Despite wanting to explore his body, to touch, to lick, to taste, I realized that his confession – since that's what it was - was important to him. I nodded and said, “It's amazing the ways we can know and not know what we want.”
He smiled and said, “Yes. It is amazing. I do like women, Nathan. It's not that I've been fooling myself. But being here right now with you is the first time I've let myself know how much I want to also be with a man.” He stopped and shook his head. “With you. I want to know what it is like to have sex with you.” He shook his head again and said, “Maybe not just sex...”
This was more than a confession. I said, “Not just sex...”
In answer his kissed the space between my pecs. Then he asked, very softly, very tentatively, “Can you...show me? I feel like I've never had sex before...”
He sounded so vulnerable, so open. I rubbed his shoulders. I said, “Let's go to my bed.” I stopped, suddenly remembering. “Oh, and Happy Christmas.”
He pushed himself up so he was on his knees. His cock was still hard, the bulbous head well out of his foreskin, thick and eager. He glanced down at it as if he could't quite believe it, then looked at me again. “Happy Christmas, Nathan.”
I got off the sofa and took his hand, pulling him up and led him to my bedroom. Shyly, he sat on the edge and looked at me. There was hunger in his eyes. He wanted this, there was no question. But he clearly felt as if he didn't know what to do.
I sat down beside him and said, “Zalan...it's not that different. Just because I'm a man, doesn't mean you do anything different from what you already know how to do...”
He actually looked surprised, as if it had never occurred to him. But what I had said seemed to release something in him. He turned to me and put his strong hand on the back of my neck and pulled me to him. With some force. Our mouths met, our teeth colliding and I could tell he had unleashed himself. His tongue drove into my mouth and at the same time he pushed me down. I squirmed so I was fully on
the bed, him on top of me again. But this time he was committed to it.
I felt his hips flex and he ground his thick cock into mine and he moaned into my mouth. He pulled back and gasped and did it again, looking eager, grinning. We just looked at each other while we both flexed our hips so our dicks were buzzing with the friction, his hairy balls mashing into mine.
He leaned in and kissed me some more, sucking on my tongue, biting my bottom lip. I felt his hand run down my side and then slide under me. He gripped one ass cheek, kissing me even harder with a gasp into my mouth, then his fingers snaked in between and quickly found me, circling and pushing. It was all very eager and way too fast.
I pushed gently so he fell sideways and he make a little sound, then said, “I'm not doing this right...”
With a big smile, I said, “Oh, you're doing just fine. But let's slow down a little.”
I moved down and lay between his legs. His body smelled hot and rich, complex and sweaty. I put my face in between his cock and his balls, taking a deep breath. I started to slowly fuck the bed while I investigated him with my mouth, the hair against my tongue feeling intense.
He started to make sounds. Like words in some unearthly language that clearly wasn't Hungarian. I sucked each ball in and rolled it around my tongue. He tasted a little sweaty, and strange in a way that excited me all the more.
I lifted my head and looked at him. He was staring at me. He nodded. As if I needed encouragement. But I grinned at him, feeling dirty. “You want me to suck your cock, Zalan?”
He looked surprised, but his big thick cock literally twitched when I spoke and I knew he liked it when I narrated what I was doing. So I continued: “I'm going take that big thing down my throat. Fuck my face. Don't be shy.”
So I engulfed his cock, relaxing my mouth. I opened my throat and let it sink as far back as if would go. He groaned above me but I felt his hands on my head and then his hips flexed. Once. Then twice. Each time sliding his whole cock out and then back in, even deeper. I really had to relax myself to take it. He wasn't exceptionally long, but he was thick. I could taste his juice, his musk, the sweat from his body. I fucked the mattress even harder.
He raised his knees so he could get even deeper, thrust after thrust making me gag a few times, but I loved it.
Suddenly he stopped and pulled my head off his raging prick. He said, “I want to try...” And he pushed me onto my back. He shifted and leaned down, taking hold of my cock in one hand. I felt his tongue swirling at the base of my dick, then dragging up to the tip, moving back down with his lips. It sent bursts of energy through my cock to the rest of my body. For his first time with a cock in his mouth, he was doing just fine. I wondered if he was doing what he knew he liked but the thought was lost in the explosion that hit me when he swallowed the whole thing.
He swirled his tongue around the shaft and then pulled back, his lips dragging over the surface, then allowed the whole length to plough back in again. He gagged, but didn't stop. But I was so insanely excited, I knew I would fill his throat in a few seconds if he didn't stop. I grabbed his head and held it, then pulled him off.
He looked at me anxiously and said, “Did I do that wrong?”
I kissed him and stared into those deep eyes so full of concern. I said between kissed, “Oh my god no! You did everything right. So right that I almost came...and I'm not ready to.”
He looked relieved and nodded. “Anna says I'm too eager sometimes...”
I kissed his nose, then his forehead and said, “Eager is a good thing. But let's take our time.”
So we kissed for a while. Slowly, deeply, then fast and intense. His tongue was long and strong, his mouth soft and inviting. I sucked his bottom lip which made him gasp. All the while I could feel his hands on my body, exploring. I could tell he had never touched another man before, be he seemed to want to explore every part of me. His fingers lingered around my balls, the tips trailing over the soft surface, then he gripped them gently which made me squirm. I ran my hands over his back. I loved the feel of the hair at the base of his spine, sparsely on his ass, thicker in between those meaty cheeks. I carefully slid a finger over his hole and he made a little sound into my mouth.
He leaned back and trailed his fingers over my cheek and along my eyebrows. Every movement felt like it was part of not just exploring me in the context of having sex with me, but discovering how he could be tender, warm, open in being sensual with a man. His hand stopped moving, his forefinger gently touching the space between my eyebrows and he said, “Can I fuck you?”
I felt a shock of excitement. Knowing how much he the narration of what we were doing, I said, “Tell me how you want to fuck me.”
His hips shifted and his cock slid against mine, then again, and he said, “I want...I want to fuck you so I can kiss you, and I want to look into your eyes when I cum in you...”
He was so clear about what he wanted and that excited me as much as him telling me excited him. I said, “Well then, why don't you do it?” I could tell he needed more encouragement. “Zalan. You know how to do this.” I got on my back and spread my legs, pulling my knees up. I reached beside me and pulled my lube out of a little box I keep beside the bed.
I handed it to him saying as seductively as I could, “I like it when a guy gets me ready to be fucked...”
He grinned and I could tell he knew what I meant. He wasn't stupid. He carefully squeezed some onto his fingers and used his thumb to spread it around. His face looked intent as if the consistency of it surprised him. Glancing at me, his face showing his uncertainty, I felt those fingers lightly touch just above my hole. I reached down and nudged him lower, spreading my legs apart a little more. I felt a fingers press and then two and I relaxed enough so they slid in. He stopped, as if startled, but then moved them deeper.
He pressed more, gently turning his hand, rotating his fingers. I asked, “How does it feel?”
Looking at me with a complex kind of curiosity, he said, “You're so soft...”
Laughing a little, but feeling desperate, I said, “That doesn't mean I'll break...fuck me with your hand.”
His eyes widened and he leaned down, his breaths coming faster and lightly kissed me a few times, barely opening his mouth, but his hand moved more, his fingers dragging on the walls of me.
My voice low and urgent, I said, “More. Stretch me, Zalan. I want you to really get in there.”
He looked surprised as if he couldn't believe that's what I wanted, but he was a fast learner. He pulled his hand out, then in a circular motion, I felt three fingers begin to snake into me. I took hold of my cock and stroked, moaning.
Seeing how it affected me, he got his other hand slick and pushed mine away, taking hold of my cock while he explored my ass, his wrists helping to fuck me more deeply.
I could see the muscles in his strong hairy arm ripple. His own cock looked eager. I reached over and took the meaty head in my hand and ran my fingers over it. I said, “I want this in me.”
He looked at me, a serious question on his face, “Are you ready?”
Laughing, I said, “I'm so ready Zalan!”
He chuckled and shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was about to do. I realized I had to banish the thought of his wife from my head. I knew that what we were about to do was going to force a reckoning for him and his marriage in a way I was sure neither one of them could have foreseen.
But as he shifted on the bed, as he squeezed more lube on his big, uncut, thick, streaming cock and began to push it into my hole, push into my whole body which wanted nothing but to take him, the stretch from his broad shaft startling me, I could only think about the two of us. He pushed further, his eyes closed, his mouth partly open, he took a deep sigh and I felt his balls come in contact with my hot skin. He leaned forward and pulled me up at the same time so I was sitting on him, impaled. Our lips met, dragging against each other by the movements of his body, and as he took one experimental fuck as his tongue slid in between my lips, as he began to pivot his hips and put his hand on the back of my head so our mouths pushed more firmly against each other, both our tongues entwining, as he really began to fuck me deep and steady and increasingly faster, the entire thought of the state of his marriage became completely irrelevant.
Zalan's body moved fluidly, his thick cock taking my ass smoothly and with force, stretching me, reaching deep each time he fucked upward. He was not stranger to fucking and there was a confidence in it, a controlled need that I felt in his whole sweaty, strong body.
My back was uncomfortable, so I pulled us onto the bed again so he was looking down at me, and I took hold of my streaming cock between us and managed to stroke as he adjusted his stance, pushing my hips up, digging even deeper. Our kisses became desperate. Every so often he would let go of my mouth and kiss my neck or my cheek, or lick my chin; I would do the same. I reached my other hand around and ran it over his beautiful ass as it moved, trailing my fingers between the strong globes, tickling his hairy hole. He groaned when I poked my finger in a little and then dug even deeper. His eyes were wide, just staring at me. I said, “I want to fuck you some time, Zalan...”
I knew I was taking a risk because I had no idea if he would want that, but to my surprise he said, all low and desperate, “I do want that English cock in me. I want you to fuck me, Nathan. But not yet.”
He closed his eyes and our mouths found each other again. I wasn't sure if he meant 'not yet' as in later that day, or 'not yet' as in some time in the future. It didn't really matter. There were more than four months for me to find out. In the meantime, I could feel his body begin to tense, his hips pushing deeper.
I took things up a notch and said, “Are you going to fill me with cum? Are you going to cum so much it leaks out my ass? I want to feel your cum dripping out of me...”
That seemed to set him off. He gasped into my mouth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nathan....what are you doing to me?!”
He stopped breathing and then his hips seemed to go even faster, giving me a whole bunch of short, deep thrusts, skewering me with his big pole and I knew he was there, I could feel his body start to shake and his cock drilled into me three more deep, definitive times. I could feel his cock pulsing, filling me with that thick cum of his.
I started to stoke my own cock fast, and in a matter of seconds, cum started to pulse in short rocket-fuelled bursts that sprayed between us. He laughed and gasped and said, “Fucking hell!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and let the feelings take me over. My body was twitching as the cum kept erupting. It drooled off my chin, it coated my chest and pooled around my neck. It was epic.
I finally came back to earth and looked at him. His big brown eyes were wide as if he was surprised, a half-smile on his face. He leaned down and kissed me very softly, then licked my chin, savouring the taste of another man's cum for the first time.
He said, “It might take me time to get used to the taste...but I like that it's yours.”
The sweetness and simplicity of his words caught me by surprise. As if I wanted to right the balance, I leaned down and explored his slippery cock with my tongue, then leaned back, feeling warm and calm. I looked into his eyes which were still big and almost surprised.
I said, “It feels like you've been wanting to do this for a long time...”
He continued to look at me. His face was flushed and damp, and the black scruff on his chin glinted with moisture. He said, “Yes. I suppose I have. I have only imagined this. But I never once said to myself, I want to be with a man...I just...imagined it without actually knowing it, if that makes any sense. I guess I was afraid to actually think it. In case it was true. Because I was married to a women.” He stopped, and winced. “Because I am married to a woman.”
I took his hand and pulled him down beside me so were were face-to-face again. Our sticky, wet cocks were nestled together, our chests in contact, our mouths almost touching. I gave him a bunch of soft kisses on his lips and his cheeks. I said, “Don't think about that now. The only thing that you know for sure is you just fucked me and it was amazing for – and I think I can say this – both of us. Right?”
He kissed me back with a quick intake of breath as if he was surprised. “When I first saw you at the Centre, waiting for that ridiculous vehicle, I knew I was in trouble.”
I glowed with pleasure at the thought. “It was the same for me. I had expected someone middle aged and not very interesting. So when you walked up to me looking all gorgeous, well...and then when I saw you in bed that night...I wanted to join you so badly.”
He laughed, happier still, and slid his arms around me, pulling me even closer. Our bodies were hot and sweaty, various liquids glueing us together. “I would have freaked out if you had. I wasn't ready...”
I leaned back a little. “What made you ready?”
He thought a moment, then said, “The cannabis helped...but it wasn't just that. I had to get more comfortable with you. But it was increasingly clear you are a lovely, open person...I can trust you.”
I was moved and startled. His vulnerability was so bewitching, so erotic, that I wanted to have sex all over again. Instead I said, “You can trust me. I'm glad you believe it.”
We soon fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, close to dinner-time, although you would never know it since it was just as bright at six as it was at noon and would be at midnight. I was getting a little tired of it. I guess it was better than constant dark.
We heated our Christmas dinner and had the second bottle of bubbly. We didn't bother getting dressed which felt wicked and irresponsible, like we were teenagers having been left alone by their parents. We just wore t-shirts and briefs. There was a new ease between us. Affection. While Zalan put food on our plates, I rubbed his back and had to keep myself from exploring his ass, or other places. When we had washed up, we sat on the sofa and listened to Christmas music, holding hands, or spooning. Every few minutes he would kiss me and it felt like he was checking to make sure I was still there, that I still wanted him.
In fact after a while, we did start all over again. He fucked me on the sofa. And after a nap, some time in the middle of the noon-bright night, he took me to bed and fucked me again. And then again. By the time we got up, I was sore. But it was pain that I wanted. The last time his cock drove into me through all the cum that was already there, the sting was more like evidence of his need for me, rather than just the annoyance of us having fucked too much.
But it was time to go back to work, so we pulled ourselves from the bed and had a quick shower together. That felt really nice. It seemed to cement the idea that we really had started something.
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