God of Passion

     Jim saw the young man standing under the lights of a seedy tavern,
looking forlorn.  He pulled over, not completely understanding the
impulses that led him to do so, in order to see the kid more clearly.
     He was cute, maybe 19 or 20, with dark red hair and green
eyes.  He was wearing tight black jeans and a t-shirt, and his 
once-white sneakers were digging into the mud as he stood in the
light drizzle.  
     Jim sighed.  He always was one for strays.  He rolled down his window.
     "Excuse me," he hollered, "do you need a lift?"
     The kid's eyes shone with gratitude as he stepped on some firmer
patches of ground to get to the car.  Once he began moving, Jim
was able to discern the utter lack of underclothing on the kid's body.
Strategically-placed rips in the jeans and t-shirt left little to the
imagination.
     Jim moaned, his imagination running wild with possibilities.
     He saw the kid, stripping off his jeans, revealing a firm, young
cock eager for the touch of experienced hands.  His pubic hair would
be auburn, and he'd be hard and swollen with excitement. 
. . .
     He leaned over and kissed Jim full on the mouth, his fingers
brushing against the swelling in the front of Jim's trousers.  Unzipping
Jim's slacks, he leaned over, taking the purple head of Jim's shaft 
deep into his suctioning mouth, as Jim's fingers found their way onto, 
and into the kid's hot, tight ass.  He moaned around Jim's shaft, 
making sure it was good and wet, before swinging his leg over and 
sliding slickly down Jim's turgid length until he touched bottom . . .

     <CLICK> - The car door opened, letting in a gust of cold air
and rain.  He slid inside (Jim nearly had a heart attack when one of
the kid's nuts peeked through a rip in his jeans) and shut the door.
     "Thank you," he said, her voice rich and husky, "it's cold
out there."
     Jim shivered as the kid spoke, his mind conjuring up images of him
lying in front of his fireplace, nude, speaking to him . . . 

     "Oh, god, yes," he was saying, "more, give me more."
     Jim thrust his shaft deeper into the kid's clinging ass, 
grinding his teeth together.  The kid's nails were raking tracks across
Jim's buttocks, and his cock was leaking pre-cum like a faucet.

     So hot ... 

     So tight ...

     "So," he said, "where are you going?"
     The kid smiled shyly.  "Wherever you'd like to drop me off.  I need to
locate a place to stay, and if you know of one ..."
     Jim stumbled over himself trying to offer one of the rooms of
his house.
     The kid looked at him for a long moment, considered, then acquiesed.
     Driving home, vague thoughts of seduction flickered through
Jim's mind.

     The kid lying in the tub, bobbing up and down on Jim's engorged
manhood.  Setting him on the table, filling his lap with whipped
cream and having a midnight snack.  The kid reaching his hand out, and
touching him, all over, moving closer to his . . .

     Jim nearly leaped through the windshield when he reached out
his hand and touched Jim's leg.
     "I was wondering," he said, his hand moving in small circles
along the inside of Jim's thigh, "just how I'm going to be able to
repay you?"
     He smiled as his house drew nearer, and he began to loosen his
tie.
     "Oh," he said, shuddering as the kid's hand found the lump in his
pants, "I'm sure I can think of something."