I was at a business conference in Atlanta Georgia the first time I heard his deep, hardy laugh and it rocked me to my core. Who was that? The unidentified laughter continued. He sounded like he was singing a song.
He's the most handsome man I've ever seen; a little taller than me, maybe six feet, slim to thin, with wiry muscled arms, blond hair with lighter streaks on top, a golden mustache and goatee, both neatly trimmed. Golden curls spilled over the neck of his Tee-shirt, and a well worn and faded pair of 501 jeans were drawn tight over his high, round little butt.
Matt is a popular jock who has everything going for him until he loses his memory and now he has to try to live a life that doesn't feel like his own anymore.
The majority of this story is fiction, however everything up to the break, indicated by the row of asterisks, is completely true. I have not used real names or locations of course, but the teller is me and the other guy certainly does exist.
"I want inside you, I want that sweet hole of yours Grant," I answered honestly.
"Take me, do with me what you want. I'm all yours Smiles," he said giving himself to me totally.
It felt so damn good to be holding a man in my arms. Hard muscles, firm heavy body, all those manly smells and taste ... Uuumm ... I loved the very being of a man, of him ... My Tommy.
Does he know? What he did to me? How he made me feel? Does he? I wanted to tell him, but I didn't want to look pathetic or weak. I needed to be strong for myself - but vulnerable.
And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as sleeping amber.
Lance immediately set the bottle down and removed his ponytail band. He slowly shook out his mane and unbuttoned his shirt so Frankie could see his chest hair as well.
REVISED AND EDITED***
The first person I saw was Ben Barton, my childhood best friend and constant companion. Even as a grown man I have never loved anyone like I love Benny.
He stepped forward and his skin touched mine. I could feel the hair of his chest and abdomen on my smooth back and the hardness of his manhood pressing just above my buttocks. He edged toward the bed, pushing me along as he did so. My knees hit the edge of the bed and I reluctantly bent forward.
Love is not so much blind as it is transforming. This story is written in the grand tradition of the classic film, "The Magic Cottage" for those of you old enough to remember it. Everyone who enters the cottage is transformed into a thing of beauty.