C2 – Serendipity Pass – Paths That Merge, In Odd Configurations / Final Edit

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual events, characters, persons, alive or dead or beings of Earth or the multiverse, past, present or future, is purely coincidental. Unless, of course, I’m psychic, in which case this a work of non-fiction. But I highly doubt that, I’m not that attuned. I mean if I was, I’d have won Powerball by now and been able to afford creative writing classes and a proofreader.

Be forewarned, these writings may trigger some issue or issues that you have, either by the language used or it’s content in general. If you are one to get bothered by every little thing, just close it now and step away from wherever the hell it is that you are reading this.

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Serendipity Pass

Chapter 2 : Paths That Merge, In Odd Configurations

The smoke rose around us, escaping our lips to twirl and swirl and drift off into the ether. It billowed in puffs, infused with the sounds that tunneled up from our hidden recesses. Those deep places where energies, once dormant, forged themselves to take flight upon our ears. Hungry sounds. Fun sounds. Fuck it sounds.

There was no rush of adrenaline, no fireworks, no butterflies, no angels up on high. There was just invitation, acceptance, and flat-out, unbridled brilliance. It was a very interesting, very passionate kiss. A good kiss. But just a kiss. Just two sets of lips and tongues playing, teasing, tempting, and filling a need.

He held my face in his hand, with fingers half curled. The tips of them brushed my temples, tensing, with a delicious need. A pleasing grip toyed on the swelling in my jeans from his other. Inhibitions slipped away and died without remorse. Carried off and away on half tittering moans and the delicious taste of passionate implications.

An unexpected sensation, of soft skin, tickled at my fingertips and I found my palm on bare flesh, warm, silken, inviting flesh. Somehow, during this spontaneous buss, it had made its way under the waistband of his pants and urged his song on, plucking on his nerves with a desirous intention.

My fingers gripped into plump, pliable muscle. Hot, heavy air swaddled like a sweater around them. The middle one was pushing on a softness, tensing his body with gentle, teasing probes and subtle explorations. It touched across hot wrinkled muscle causing a tightening.

I cradled and massaged at a firm, perky, little breast, tenderly rolling an obscenely, long nipple between my thumb and middle finger. It was supple, provoking, firm and pliant.

The sensations were all too familiar and feminine. Save, for the stiffness pressed into the muscles below my ribs.

He arched his back, and pressed his fullness further into my side. His heat radiated into me with a distinct disparity, to the once iced and trembling body that laid against me a short while ago. The fire, the weed, the beer and the blood flow, tempered the synapses in our bodies, stoking the passion that was now emanating from us. It surrounded us and pushed the world further away and around us.

My head was swimming in thought. But I couldn’t think, didn’t want to. For if I did, I’d likely sink further into its unfathomable memories and drown. A singular intention, focused itself on the promise of intimacy and release, fervidly forging my purpose.

He rolled his head back, pulling his lips away, and bent forward. His breath was labored, quick and strong. His cheeks flush. His forehead touched mine. His eyes locked into me, longing and wanting. He was searching my face for direction.

I had none to give. So I just gazed back into him. Offering no signs for him to stop. I was as consumed by this, I was as consumed by him, as much as he was, by this, and me.

His fingers clenched at my cock, he bit his lip and ground his hard warmth into my waist. There was a moment of pause as he formed the words and wrestled with the question’s possible denial. A tactile hum rewarded out from his throat as my hand caressed his cheek. And then those words petitioned, demurely, willed out of his mouth with hope.

“Would you, maybe, want to have sex with me?”

It was one of the bravest moments I have ever witnessed from a fellow human being.

His eyes, fueled by loneliness and driven by a need, pleaded his case, and if there was any thing that would have stopped me, any social norm or sense of myself, that walled my will against this, it would have crumbled in that look.

*”There’s two things I really need to know first.”

“What do you wanna know? Anything just ask.” His voice was twinged with excitement, turmoil and the hurried cadence of adrenaline fueled hunger.

*”Not wanna know. Need to know.” I stood up, reached out my hand, he took it, pulling himself up and into me. Testing the bond.

His body and mine came together, closer than before, more fitting. My crotch was met by a measured warmth. A hardness that was barely veiled by the materials between us. Our lips met again, more like a tease than a declaration this time. They brushed lightly against the others, as we sniffed and tested and tempted those urges.

My cock was pressed downwards at an uncomfortable angle, still entrapped by the worn cotton pants leg around it. It pushed hard, into the unyielding fabric, attempting to liberate itself from its restraint. I bared my discomfort by shifting my weight to gain some relief. His hand slid nervously between my pants and stomach and embraced my shaft’s length. I felt another pulse, through my already tightened skin, as he worked it tenderly across my thigh and gently persuaded it to a more pleasurable position. I signaled my satisfaction, at the release of the strain, with an exhale, His fingers bid a sluggish retreat, slipped under my shirt to my stomach, then nestled delicately into my side. Holding me firm.

“Better?”

*”Much better, thanks.”

“I should have done that a while ago, but…”

I put my cheek to his and my mouth closed in against his ear. *”Shhhh. Don’t. If you had done that before I got to know you, I might be on my way home. Besides, if it was that bad, I would have found a way. Eventually.”

The vibrations of those words on his ear, from lips so close, tickled nerves and trembled his skin. He slid his cheek against my voice. Everything was heightened and alive with purpose. I pulled my head back and locked eyes with him. *”Was that really your first kiss?”

His face turned shy, his head angled down but his gaze stayed true. “Yes, and no, I was kissed once, by a boy who was dared, this was my first kiss from someone I wanted to, who I hope wanted to back.”

*”How was it?”

“A lot nicer than that one was.”

*“So this one was nice?”

“It was nice, very nice.”

*”But no trumpets from the heavens?”

His head pulled back, he looked into me again and smiled. “I don’t know, but I liked it. A lot. A lot more than I thought I would. There might have been a harp there, somewhere.”

*”Damn! I guess I’m out of practice. Sounds like I’ll have to work on my technique. Harps are okay, but trumpets are so much more, heralding.”

He laughed and came closer, his nose touched mine, tip to tip. “Promise?”

*”Promise.”

He moved slowly, yet eagerly towards me, until our lips almost met again. We held a distance, just enough to fade the line between touching and not. Dancing and shifting, testing the space and our wills. They touched again and were consumed. It hungered and fed, lingered then broke. His head tilted back and offered me a vulnerable neck. I nuzzled under his jaw, tasting the salt of his tears and the subtle scent the rain water left on his skin. He growled, purred and moaned, with sounds that somehow took shape and formed a query, “Mmmmmm, Soooo what is it, that youuuuhhh mmmmm need to knooow?”

*”This.”

I slid my hands to his waist band and pulled it away from his stomach. I put my head against his chest and looked down. What came into my vision, was something I never expected to see under another lovers clothes. It was hard, really fucking hard, with a sheen on the skin that betrayed its fullness. I was pretty sure mine looked pretty much the same.

The taut skin of his dome was a light pale brown with a purplish hue. The length of his shaft jumped and flexed as his heartbeat transposed in its movements. I crouched and rolled the cloth, letting my fingers graze his hips as I pulled it off and away. Then I slid them down, halfway to his base. I was greeted by warm, hard, throbbing, flesh. Similar to mine in length, a little paler and silkier in color and texture, leaner in girth. It was clean, smooth, and not hard to look at, with a vein that measured enticingly along the underside of it’s breadth.

Now, I don’t watch porn often, but when I do, it’s usually lesbian porn. Mainstream porn seems to be nothing but humiliation and shock these days. There’s no joy or pleasure in any of it. It’s just fluids on faces for money or just flat out humiliation, degradation and pain. It’s arrogant, egotistical and selfish. Maybe it always has been, but at least the old school tried to fake it, sometimes. It’s not making love. It’s not even having sex. It’s just fucking.

And, cocks, well, they do nothing for my visual appreciation of it, never did. Most times they can actually turn me off, especially if they’re uncircumcised. Hell, even looking at ‘tranny fucks girl’ porn doesn’t help. It just gives me the same bad taste.

Damn! Another fourth wall break, !Suck A Cock Deadpool! For making me notice them.

Sorry? Where was I?

Oh yeah. On my knees. Staring at a cock. A cock I was going to play with.