Jordan

Even though the morning quickie seemed to have gone even better than any of our sexual meetings so far, I was a bit shocked at how little time it took before I found myself wanting more of Jordan, yet again.

And the craziest thing seemed to be that I wanted more than just sex, but I seriously couldn’t get my mind around what that something was. Even something as harmless as a kiss he somehow turned into tongue fucking.

Damn. I can’t think about that. Who would have known the dude was hiding a tongue so damn long…

Most of the guys I knew would say I had already had more than my share of sexual encounters, but I had never met anyone who kept me wanting so much more and more. Usually I was happy to cum, and happy to wait for at least a day before I really cared about doing anything more, even if every once in a while I could take in a blow job during the day, and with a bit of luck a fuck in the evening.

But this Jordan was a different character altogether.

For starters, none of the sex we had had so far seemed to end. I can’t really describe what that meant, but each time seemed like it somehow got interrupted, with me wondering why we were ending so soon, no matter how many times Jordan had made me cum. Each time there seemed to be something we still needed to do, and I seemed to be unable to come up with much more than we need to do it again, to see if a second time might lead to at least some kind of momentary completion.

Even his drinking my piss seemed wonderful, although that kind of thing seemed like it should have totally disgusted me.

Plus. Was he really not hurting like hell? One more damned thing that he did that no one had ever done. Fuck. He was even making me wish I were longer and thicker, just so I could get in there further.

On top of that, I couldn’t help but feel like there was somewhere else this was somehow supposed to go. The best I could do was compare it to sports stuff. It seemed like we were still just doing warm-ups, and not even getting to the actual practice, let alone a game.

And even the fact that I was able to compare it to my sports life seemed so damn odd. Sex had always been a nice distraction. Not really something that actually belonged in my life as a whole.

During the day it was hard not to keep wondering on and off about that. And even more so about Jordan.

I still wondered at times why it was I had felt so compelled to get to know him. Even in the first place. As months passed beyond that first letter, I still found myself wondering, trying to figure out both this guy and what it was that attracted me so much to him. Even as the attraction kept growing and growing.

I had never met anyone I wanted to share so much with. I was fascinated at times just watching him, almost as if I could see his mind wildly at work. And every conversation we ever had always went somewhere unexpected, almost like the journey our sex seemed to be turning into.

I had also never met anyone so seemingly simple, and yet almost always so damn complicated. Nicest person around, with this quiet little dark side that always stayed hidden. Except that now I might even be seeing some of that. Always being confided in, but when I looked at it carefully seldom confiding in anyone. Except somehow me, even though I was never quite sure he wanted to, but almost that he couldn’t help himself. Almost like how he seemed to endlessly milk cum out of me, even when I didn’t even feel that hard.

Plus he seriously never asked for anything. Pissed me off big time, when he’d just quietly wait for an opening, letting others monopolize my time. Damn. One more thing I couldn’t think about. I was almost wishing he’d have a fight with my girl. But the fucker had somehow become one of her best friend.

So with all those musings of course I wanted more of him, and I certainly didn’t want to have to wait until after practice. So I lucked out and got him to agree to meet me before practice, hoping we might be able to at least get a blowjob in, if for no other reason than to let me go about practice without being so obsessed with this guy.

Fuck. I would have gone nuts if he somehow hadn’t shown up.

And somehow the dude managed to get a load in his mouth, hickeys enough to almost shock me on his neck (and I still swear he was forcing me to give them to him), and even a load deep in his ass, all prior to practice. And the net effect of all those was that I knew I still needed more after practice, even as I could clearly see his mind racing as I looked into those beautiful blue eyes. Almost like there was some kind of stormy sea beckoning me. One that I knew there was no way I could say no to.

I had already gone from wanting to fuck his eyes to all but wanting to drown in them. And I had no doubt at all that he would somehow save me.

Fuck. Just having been with him even made me work harder in practice, even though everyone knew I was naturally overly talented, and overly lazy. And now I was working harder almost to prove to this guy that I was worthy of him.

How could that be when I was on top, and he was on the bottom? Even more willingly than any girl I had ever been with, although I was sure no one would even believe me if I told them what was going on.

And I still couldn’t even believe he took my entire cock in him. Every single time.

Damn. Yes. He was quiet. But he was quiet like a cop. Quiet like some kind of enforcer. People didn’t really even dare thrown opinions his way, no matter how kind he seemed to be, almost for fear he would immediately figure out how stupid they were. Even people older than him almost got pissed off because they cared so much about what he thought about them.

Fuck. And that was the dude I was fucking…

I worked harder than ever through practice. And kept an eye on him at all times.

What did he think?

Did he want me even half as much as I wanted him?

Did he somehow force me to write that first letter?

My mind was racing. My body was on fire. And my damned heart was so peaceful.

He sure as hell better have a next step ready to take me somewhere…