Tuesday, February 5, 2013


     He nodded. He sat down next to me and looked at his hands. His lengthy silence made me nervous.
      He looked at me with an expression of such sadness and regret that my heart dropped into my shoes.
      “You’re telling me that we can’t play games and have fun with each other because my legs are numb and a bit weak?”
      “Well, I just thought it would be better…”
      “Only a hundred percent healthy people can have kinky sex?”
      “No, I justI don’t know, I thought it might be too much for you.” I could hardly speak with the fear of losing him.  “I just want you to be okay.”
      “So do I. But I’m not going to postpone all the things I enjoy until my legs are better. And, its just, if you’re gonna handle me with kid gloves from now on, this just isn’t going to work.” He went on. “I feel great, my symptoms are improving, and there is nothing better than a huge, motherfucking, explosive orgasm to send endorphins and positive energy through my brain and my body. Not to mention that I might wake up tomorrow with no feeling in my dick.”
      My eyes widened.
      “You didn’t think of that, did you?”
      I shook my head.
      “Listen, Martin.” He spoke quietly, as if to a child who had trouble understanding. “The most important thing this disease has taught me is to enjoy the fuck out of what life has to offer, every day. I do take care of myself. I eat well and I get as much sleep as I can. I’ve started this new medication and I swear I will take it religiously. Beyond that, I will not let this disease dictate how I live my life.”
      I couldn’t say anything for a moment, the look he gave me so determined and strong. Then I took a deep breath and said, “I want you to handcuff me to the bed and do whatever you want to me.”
      He looked at me and his eyes widened. Then his lip twitched.
      “I want you to enjoy the fuck out of me.” I finished.
      He smiled, and the tension and the heartache vanished, relief flooding through me.
      “Are you sure?”
      I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. “Jeremy, handcuff me to the goddamn bed.”
      “Okay.” He looked me over hungrily. “Take off your clothes.”
      I started to do so.
      “No. Slowly, please.” He directed. “And look at me while you do it.”
      Holy fuck. I was so his bitch right now and he knew it. I finished unbuttoning my shirt and slowly peeled it off, letting it drop to the floor behind me. My erection, scared away by the prospect of losing him, came back with a vengeance. I slowly unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down, staring into his darkening gaze with an intensity to match it.
      “Shit,” he whispered. “Do you even realize how hot you are?”
      I pulled off my pants and stood there in my boxer briefs. I blushed. “Only when you look at me like that.”
      He grabbed his cane and stood up. He held out his hand. I moved closer and took it.
      “I want to show you something.”
      He led me over to the mirror that leaned against the wall and made me stand in front of it. He stood behind me, to the side. I was embarrassed to look at myself.  I averted my gaze, making a slight sound of protest.
      “Shhh,” he quieted me. “Eyes forward, Martin.” And that directive, the one I’d used so often in our interactions, caused a jolt right to my cock. I obeyed, taking in the sight of myself in the big mirror.
      “Put your hands behind your head,he said and I did so, not even thinking about resisting.
      He leaned his cane against the wall and stood behind me. We were almost the same height.
      “You can close your eyes for a minute,he suggested and I did so with both relief and a surge of excitement. Then I felt his hands on my own. He ran them lightly over my biceps, my shoulders, and down my back. He skirted them around my waist and slid them up to my chest, resting them over my pectorals. He must have felt my heart and its rapid staccato beats.
      He kissed the back and side of my neck as he stroked his hands flat across my nipples, once, twice, causing them to harden and me to moan quietly. I could feel moisture leaking from my cock into my underwear.
      All I could feel were his lips at my neck and his hands as they glided slowly down over my belly, his fingers slipping under the waistband of my boxers. I inhaled a trembling breath as he freed my erection and pulled my boxers slowly, oh so slowly, down. My eyes stayed shut but I stepped out of them and waited with held breath for his next move.
      “Jesus,” he said. His warm hand wrapped around my aching cock. I moaned and he placed his other hand flat against my belly as he pressed his body against me. “Open your eyes, Martin,he whispered in my ear. I could feel the excitement in his voice and his own hard cock pressing against me through his clothes.
      I opened my eyes and stared in wonder at the image before me. There was a tall, fairly slim, very attractive naked man before me, his skin flushed and his eyes dark with lust; his large, erect penis jutting beyond the grip of another man’s hand and the man’s other hand splayed possessively across his abdomen.
      “How fucking sexy is that?” He murmured in my ear.

~ From Chapter Twelve, Exposure

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