This Close to Heaven

by Evelyn Floyd

I ran my fingers through his thick curly brown hair. He cast his large dark eyes upwards at me, a guarded look on his face. It was a Caucasian face, with a hint of something exotic, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. His hair looked rough, but was as soft as a lamb's wool. A lamb, I thought, this young man was like a lamb in some mysterious way.

He was trembling slightly, not in anxiety though, not really. It was more like tension, or restlessness. I stopped running my hand through his hair and took his chin in my fingers, turning his head to face me. He stared at me with those big expressive eyes, waiting it seemed, for me to strike like a leopard. I lowered my face to his, whispering, "Kiss me." He drew back, just a little, but I didn't let him pull away. I placed my lips on his, softly, and kissed him full on the mouth. His lips were frozen, still and unmoving. I pulled back, saying, "You are going to have to do better than that." He dropped his eyes, almost in apology, then lifted them back to mine, as if to say he wanted to try again. I put my lips to his, holding myself motionless and he kissed me back, the way I wanted him to. I took his lips in mine, embracing them, and his kiss was animated now, more full of the fire I expected. I pulled away, gasping softly, and I said, "That's the way, that was very good. Thank you."

He nodded, my hand still holding his face, and he dropped his eyes again, as if in shame. I felt sad for him and let go of his chin. I stood before him, studying his bare chest, studying the few dark hairs that grew around the darker skin of his nipples, and then my eyes continued further, glancing down for a moment at the fabric that covered his loins. It was a simple thing he wore, a sort of wrap that went around his hips, then under him and was tucked behind him, at the waistband near the small of his back. "It's okay, really it is." I said, holding his gaze with my own. He nodded, his large brown eyes wet and emotional. I put my hands out, taking him by the wrists, gently, and let my fingers slide down to his palms, which were warm and moist. I entwined my fingers in his and brought his hands up, placing them on my shoulders. I took my hands away and his remained. He stared into my eyes, a question there that he was too timid to ask. I shook my head, saying, "No, not tonight. Maybe another time, but tonight is for you, and only you, okay?" He smiled a little, and nodded. I loved his smile, and when he was happy, so was I.

He looked down at my chest, to my belly and his eyes paused before reaching the place between my legs. He brought his eyes up again, and he smiled gingerly, as if he had thought of something amusing, but was too shy to mention it. I put my fingers in his hair again, letting them slide down to frame his neck, my thumbs under his jaw. My hands were tenderly gripping the sides of his head just under his ears and I brought him forward against me. His head went on my shoulder, and he lay against the side of my neck. I let go of his neck to wrap my arms around his lithe body, pulling him tight against my bare chest. I could feel his heart beating in his chest, and it was strong. I held him in a firm embrace, finding pleasure in being in contact with his skin.

"I love you." I said, and I felt his body shudder softly against me. I pulled away to see that he was quietly weeping. I asked him why. He shook his head, unable to answer. It was obvious he was remembering those days before he had met me. The others had called him Goat Boy, a derisive nickname, because of his thick curly brown hair. I made a shushing noise, as if to say, "Don't worry, you are safe here with me, no one can harm you now."

I loved his hair, finding it novel and sensuous. I hugged him again, burying my nose in his hair, and trying to decipher what exactly it smelled like. There was a hint of dustiness about it, even though it had recently been washed clean. It held a musky, almost animal odor that grew more pungent the longer he went without washing it. I sniffed his scalp, and found other scents there, faint almost ethereal odors of exotic herbs and spices. His hair was a garden of olfactory delight, and I loved the smell of it. I pulled my face from his hair and kissed him on the mouth again, and I felt his tongue flicker against my teeth. I opened my jaws, letting him in to explore, and I pushed my tongue over his, past his lips, delving between his jaws with a hunger that hadn't been there a few moments before.

He knew of my hunger, as he felt it himself, when we embraced like this. He was young, but he was not an innocent. He was old enough to be sexually active, old enough to be considered a man and not a minor and yet, he was inexperienced about the subject of intimacy. He knew of the things that other men liked, and he was aware of the mechanics of love-making, for he'd had sex with other men, but he had never been with anyone that truly loved him as I did. I felt his left hand drop from my shoulder and it worked at something out of my sight. When he brought it back to my shoulder, he gave the taut muscles of my neck a firm squeeze. It was a signal. A signal to begin.

I let my arms loosen, and I slid my hands down his body, one on his back, the other coming to rest on his right hip. My left hand slid down past the curve of the small of his back, coming to rest where his rump swelled out just below the end of his spine. Now I knew what his hand had been up to, as his wrap was gone. I cupped his left cheek, and gave it a squeeze. He moaned into my mouth, pulling away to pant over my right shoulder. He pulled back from me, just enough so that his mouth was near my right ear and he whispered, "It makes me hard when you do that." I smiled and squeezed his rump again, moving my first finger towards the vertical embrace of his crack. He groaned as my finger slid up and down in his crack, and he begged me to take him, as he had experienced before, when he did it with another. I grunted, wanting him, eager to feel him surround my member, to feel the pulse of his heart under my chest as I pumped my hardness into him, to give him my explosion of passion and love. But no, not tonight, tonight it was for him. I wanted him to know there were other ways he could please me, all I had to do was show him.

I dropped my right hand down, at the front of him, my fingers following the contours of smooth muscle of his flat belly and I felt more curly soft hair under my fingertips. It grew in profusion at the root of his member, which at the moment was solid and insistent. His shaft was thick, nearly as long as my own, and it throbbed with a surging strength that I found arousing. I let my fingers drop down a bit farther, feeling for his scrotum, which was full with his heavy testicles. They were furry as well. He gasped as I caressed his balls, hefting them up with my hand, giving them a very gentle squeeze. He moaned, loudly into my ear, and he whispered hoarsely, "You know it makes me crazy when you do that." I smiled, indeed I did, it made every male crazy with passion to have his scrotum caressed. My hand brushed against his round testicles for a little while longer, feeling him shudder in his excitement, and then I brought my hand up to encircle his shaft at its base. It was thick and it was rock-hard. My own excitement was as powerful as his own. The heat of his erect flesh was hypnotizing.

He moaned softly as my fingers played up and down the length of his upright member, and when I drew a finger across the moistness at his foreskin opening, he shivered with ecstasy. He put his mouth to mine again, seeking for something to slake his thirst. He kissed at me with a fervor that made me hard, too. I wanted him, in that dark and secret way, and it took all of my will power to hold back the urge to mount him as I wanted to do. To take my mind off my lust for his rump, I dropped my head down to his belly, my eyes seeking out the line of fine curly hair that began at his navel and thickened as it grew closer to his groin. In the forest of thick curly hairs at his underbelly, a tree grew outwards. It was a long thing, thick and faintly covered with darker veins. I stared at it, seeing it as if for the first time, and finding it fascinating. I sniffed at the moistness of his wrinkled foreskin, and then I opened my mouth and took him past my waiting lips.

The world beyond his sex organs no longer existed for me. I was caught up in the scent and flavor of him. His organ throbbed against my tongue, pushing at the roof of my mouth, straining as if it might go down my throat. I held my jaws wide, taking as much of him as I could, hungry for him, all of him. There was no sound except for a certain rhythmic pounding deep inside me, and it was matched by the strong pulse of his organ that held my jaws apart. I stared down at his legs below me, in the twilight of shadows caused by his body above me, and I brought my hand up to cup his scrotum gently. There was a roaring sound, deep and unintelligible. It was his voice, as I heard it transmitted not through the air, but through his flesh.

He began to thrust his hips, and it made his organ move in my mouth. I opened my throat, taking him, letting him take me. I could feel my own member, just as hard as the one I tasted, and I was euphoric about tasting what he was about to give to me. This young man was special; so many exotic flavors, so many novel odors and the sensation of feeling his living body pulsing in my heavily salivating mouth made me feel things I had never known before. I moaned in pleasure, this experience was beyond description, and I was even more in love with him than I had been earlier.

I felt his swollen tip glide down my throat, and I gagged a bit, but I did not pull away. I wanted him like this, wanting him to take me, to feed me, to subdue me. I felt his hands on my scalp, moving like fluttering birds, and I raised my hands to take his, our fingers entwined again, and I used my grip to help balance myself as I crouched at his feet, and then, I felt a change overcome him.

He was calling out my name, his voice hoarse and deep, and there was a sudden swelling in my mouth and throat. I felt him ejaculate, in my mouth and down my throat, and I let him have me, all of me, as deeply as he needed. I felt my own orgasm spill itself in my jeans, as his spilled its hot thick mess down my throat. I gagged a bit, again, but I held my position, letting him have me, showing him that I truly loved him. I gave myself to him, freely and unconditionally. He finished with a harsh groaning sound, obviously spent and he backed away, staggering as his now slack organ slithered wetly out of my mouth. I licked my lips, tasting him there, and I stood up, shakily. I gathered him in my arms and the two of us felt slowly to the floor, entwined to each other, and he kissed me on the mouth, telling me how fantastic it had been, and how much he loved me. I loved him too, and being with him was as close to Heaven as I would ever get in this life.

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