Fantasy in the Park
The other day, I was carrying on a rather erotic conversation with someone on Growlr (you know who you are). One of the main drawbacks about these apps is that I text like I talk, and the conversation doesn't flow like it would if I were talking face-to-face with a person. So I thought I would write down exactly what I was thinking during our text-time.
I've been told I write good porn, even when it's not technically porn. Hopefully you'll enjoy this as much as I still am. (And for my Growlr buddy, this will give you a better idea of exactly what I was doing with you in my mind.)
-o-o-o-o-
You're one of the handsomest men I've ever seen; I've always thought that. Your mouth, framed by what I'm sure is a soft beard, carries on intelligent conversation, and I can't help but imagine the best angle to get in a first kiss. Alone in the park, we're simply talking, but the anticipation's building. The air's a bit chilly, and we move together closer on the park bench in slowly darkening evening. It's difficult thing, trying to determine if you want me as much as I want you. Too many guys just make assumptions and take liberties that are unwelcome. You have too much self-respect for that kind of thing, and besides, I'm having too much fun watching your eyes, your mouth.
We're really close now on the bench. The cobalt blue sky is starting to go black, but the horizon is still flushed with tan, green, and indigo. An insistent gust stirs around our legs and I instinctively stretch out my arm behind your shoulders. My thumb brushes against your back, and for a moment we both freeze. I look away, but we continue to talk. You chuckle a bit and rub the back of your hand on the outside of my thigh. It's almost too much to bear. I want to kiss you deeply, feel your slippery tongue wrestle with mine, taste your moustache. But no, not now. We continue talking.
I take a chance and look up and see that you, too, are looking away. It's not that you're looking at something else, for it's almost too dark for that. Like me, you're almost afraid to look me in the eye. It might ignite something.
You're talking about something, I'm not sure what. I just want you to keep talking. The sound of your voice has lulled me into complacency. I'd do anything for you at this moment. You continue to rub my leg slowly, and then...you lean into me. I can feel your body heat through your jacket.
Summoning all my courage, I take my index finger and gently turn your face to meet mine. We're so close the ends of our moustaches are brushing each other. Every nerve ending in my body seems to end on my upper lip as you continue talking slower and slower until you stop. Your breath is hot on my face. Your hand has stopped its journey on my leg. My arm is across your back, my finger still under your chin. Slowly, carefully, our mouths come together. My God, it feels like heaven. We move together, my hand that was under your chin now reaches inside your coat to wind its way around to your back. I can feel trapped heat, muscle, hair.
Our kiss increases in intensity. You're now getting a better grip on me, too, as we rock back and forth on the park bench, the cool air being held at bay by the heat we're making. I was right, your tongue is slippery, and so are your lips. We break off for breath, rubbing our cheeks together. God, your beard is as soft as I thought.
The next kiss seems an effort on both our parts to swallow the other. It's frantic; our hands are now roaming over each other's bodies under our coats. Your back is strong, your belly firm yet soft. Without taking your lips off mine, you rise up and straddle my lap so we are now face to face. I pull you in as closely as I can. I have you around the waist and back, and you have me by the back of my neck and head. Nothing can separate our mouths -- we are too busy exploring, tasting, licking. Your body presses into mine and our heat is making me sweat. The combined effect of loose clothing and body fur allows us to rub against each other, our collective firmness building. You taste sweet, and all I can think of is trying to climb inside your mouth.
Just as the our hands start to go under each other's clothes, a group of teenagers enter the park and start playing some kind of game in the dark. Reluctantly, you climb off of me, and the cold night air becomes apparent to both of us. Without a word, you stand up and reach out your hand. I stand and take it, and we wander off to a place with more privacy to continue our conversation.
I've been told I write good porn, even when it's not technically porn. Hopefully you'll enjoy this as much as I still am. (And for my Growlr buddy, this will give you a better idea of exactly what I was doing with you in my mind.)
-o-o-o-o-
You're one of the handsomest men I've ever seen; I've always thought that. Your mouth, framed by what I'm sure is a soft beard, carries on intelligent conversation, and I can't help but imagine the best angle to get in a first kiss. Alone in the park, we're simply talking, but the anticipation's building. The air's a bit chilly, and we move together closer on the park bench in slowly darkening evening. It's difficult thing, trying to determine if you want me as much as I want you. Too many guys just make assumptions and take liberties that are unwelcome. You have too much self-respect for that kind of thing, and besides, I'm having too much fun watching your eyes, your mouth.
We're really close now on the bench. The cobalt blue sky is starting to go black, but the horizon is still flushed with tan, green, and indigo. An insistent gust stirs around our legs and I instinctively stretch out my arm behind your shoulders. My thumb brushes against your back, and for a moment we both freeze. I look away, but we continue to talk. You chuckle a bit and rub the back of your hand on the outside of my thigh. It's almost too much to bear. I want to kiss you deeply, feel your slippery tongue wrestle with mine, taste your moustache. But no, not now. We continue talking.
I take a chance and look up and see that you, too, are looking away. It's not that you're looking at something else, for it's almost too dark for that. Like me, you're almost afraid to look me in the eye. It might ignite something.
You're talking about something, I'm not sure what. I just want you to keep talking. The sound of your voice has lulled me into complacency. I'd do anything for you at this moment. You continue to rub my leg slowly, and then...you lean into me. I can feel your body heat through your jacket.
Summoning all my courage, I take my index finger and gently turn your face to meet mine. We're so close the ends of our moustaches are brushing each other. Every nerve ending in my body seems to end on my upper lip as you continue talking slower and slower until you stop. Your breath is hot on my face. Your hand has stopped its journey on my leg. My arm is across your back, my finger still under your chin. Slowly, carefully, our mouths come together. My God, it feels like heaven. We move together, my hand that was under your chin now reaches inside your coat to wind its way around to your back. I can feel trapped heat, muscle, hair.
Our kiss increases in intensity. You're now getting a better grip on me, too, as we rock back and forth on the park bench, the cool air being held at bay by the heat we're making. I was right, your tongue is slippery, and so are your lips. We break off for breath, rubbing our cheeks together. God, your beard is as soft as I thought.
The next kiss seems an effort on both our parts to swallow the other. It's frantic; our hands are now roaming over each other's bodies under our coats. Your back is strong, your belly firm yet soft. Without taking your lips off mine, you rise up and straddle my lap so we are now face to face. I pull you in as closely as I can. I have you around the waist and back, and you have me by the back of my neck and head. Nothing can separate our mouths -- we are too busy exploring, tasting, licking. Your body presses into mine and our heat is making me sweat. The combined effect of loose clothing and body fur allows us to rub against each other, our collective firmness building. You taste sweet, and all I can think of is trying to climb inside your mouth.
Just as the our hands start to go under each other's clothes, a group of teenagers enter the park and start playing some kind of game in the dark. Reluctantly, you climb off of me, and the cold night air becomes apparent to both of us. Without a word, you stand up and reach out your hand. I stand and take it, and we wander off to a place with more privacy to continue our conversation.