One in the Hand One on My Mind

I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to keep swaying with him all night. The taste of his sweat when I kissed his cheeks. The palms of his hands as he interlocked them behind my neck, holding on to me. The soft vibration as he bounced on my jeans. I want him so desperately, every square inch of him. I want to hear him grunt my name, feel him breathing heavily, the heat of his face flushing, because of me. If he's playing hard to get, it's working, because I've never wanted someone so far away from me this much. Here I am, 30 years old, in the prime of my life, with a crush. Embarrassing.

I follow the crowd oozing out of Red Velvet back onto the Black Light dancefloor. Jordan spots me and waves me over. I scurry towards him and notice that he's with a woman much shorter than he is, holding her up to eye level with his hands between her skirt and her skin. "Hey Darius, this is Parker. Parker, Darius." We exchanged pleasant grins. Her lipstick is smeared on Jordan's mouth. "I think we're gonna hang out, so don't wait up." He winks at me, and I take the cue, salute, and head towards the exit. It feels bittersweet that I'll be going home alone tonight.

Walking into our apartment, I take off my shoes and stand at the entryway, still processing my thoughts. I'm now almost 8 months past my break up. I've worked on myself and done my healing. I stroll into the living room and slip off my socks and belt. I got back out there and happened to find the one cute boy still in the closet who lives out of town. My jeans rattle as they land on the back of our faux leather couch. He's funny and friendly, and has an adorable laugh. I lay my sweat-soaked V-neck shirt onto the edge of our coffee table. He makes me feel so special. Why me? What made him come after me? How far would he go for me?

I drift back to the dance floor, where our bodies are pressed up against each other. What if we never separated? If we'd walked back here, hand in hand, or maybe around my hand on his waist? What if I pushed him up against the door while we feverishly kissed each other? If he was the one reaching into my briefs looking for the end of me? I grip the fabric of my boxers, holding the firm heat radiating between my thighs. The outline of my bulge pulsates against the cotton, with a small wet patch smearing around the tip. What if this was his wet patch to treasure, to savor, for us to share?

As I press my eyes closed, I start to see him churning his hips while balancing on the heap in my briefs. He's slim but thick where it counts. Enough to where I can feel a gentle jiggle with each stroke. I imagine him pushing himself onto me with his hands on his knees, swinging onto me with full force, showing a half-smirk over his shoulder as he rubs up and down against me. He wants to feel just how happy I am to see him, and I can't wait for him to show off.

I flick my nipple with my right hand while my left peels my briefs off my hips and around my ankles. A soft thump, and then my manhood flops on my abs, now fully engorged. I wrap the same left hand around the base and watch as nectar freely ooze out of me. Yes, he would love to see me like this, so intoxicated by his body that nothing else exists to me except the synchrony of our breaths and the oneness of our desires. I squeeze my nipple and feel the hair on my neck stand up, then pull my foreskin back, letting the tension resonate from the head all the way down. Being uncut means I don't need to do much to get myself off, a fact I'm sure Neil will like.

My attention falls to a stream of precum that has now coated the fingers at my base, a signal that my sensation is peaking. I smear the slippery mess up and down my shaft, now gripping an entire hand's width. Enough pressure to force another swell out of the tip. A contraction races up from my hole and snaps at the head, followed by another syrupy spurt. The rhythmic twitching moving from the south to my pole brings a euphoric wave that makes me flush and groan.

I imagine Neil here, leaned over me with his loose mop of hair caressing my neck. I make my right hand's fingers his lips, and feel him licking and tugging at my nipples, one after the other. His hands replace my left hand, spooning and scooping my balls, the tension in his movement pulling nectar out of me. Now as my hand travels up the shaft, the slick glisten could be Neil's saliva, as he descends onto my crotch. Now my right hand holds the base as my left hand slides up and down, milking contraction after contraction up to my frenulum. My palm becomes the warmth of his throat, as he greedily sucks more precum out of me.

In a frenzy, I bring my right hand up to my mouth, now imagining Neil serving his dick up to me. The idea of completing a suck cycle with him brings me near my limit. As I scavenge my fingers, my mouth waters at the thought of him unloading inside of it, his furry balls buzzing on my face as they empty into my throat. I inhale every drop, savoring the thought of his release into me while feverishly coaxing out my load. My hands moves erratically, twisting and torquing my foreskin, electricity radiating into every tensed muscle.

My wet fingers move back to the base as I crank my shaft in depraved desperation. I want so much to return the favor, to hear him moan and gulp as he swallows my emission. My eyes roll back and and my eyelids begin to flicker. My nipples stand at attention, and every follicle shoots up in response. My hole now winks, with each pulse pumping more and more into the end of me. And all at once--

I taste it moments before I feel it. Right into my mouth, the sweet and salty elixir splashes and floods. My back arches as my hose sprays gush after gush around me, on my cheeks, my shoulder, my obliques, my elbow crease, the sofa cushion, the end table. I hear the lampshade rattle, probably from my liquid shrapnel. A guttural rumble escapes from deep in my chest, and the bullets now melt into a single stream rolling onto my stomach and pubes. I squeeze from the base to the tip a few times, bringing up more heat and moisture, each repetition briefly stopping my breathing. "Holy fuck."

Minutes pass as I lay on the couch, gunked and gooey, while the blood settles out of my face. I tip my head up and peak around the room. Nut everywhere. The thought of Neil being on the receiving end of this fountain makes me giggle. No doubt he would have lost a tooth or gotten a black eye. Thinking about him again shoves another few drops out of me, limp but satisfied. I roll over and get on my feet, reorienting myself.

At that moment, the door handle starts to jiggle, and in walks Jordan, alone and dejected. He looks up and locks eyes with me, naked, then scans the room, as a glob rolls off the lampshade onto the end table. He looks back at me, incredulous. "You know what? I...Forget it." And with that, he walks straight to his room and closes the door behind him. It must be hard to come home empty-handed. Not that I would know.