Date: Tue, 22 Mar 2016 00:58:10 +0000
From: alfredo garcia <alfredo247@hotmail.com>
Subject: His hands on my body, Adult-Youth.

His hands on my body

By Alfredo Garcia

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His hands on my body.
Everything has stopped having interest except that.
His hands caressing my skin.
His lips on mine.
His erect penis between my trembling legs.
His tongue penetrating my mouth.
My body open, receptive, delivered.
I can not do anything but to think, to imagine those encounters.
In which he, you, welcome my body and take possession of it.
And I dissolve myself in an ocean of pleasure.
I road sleepwalking always thinking the same thing.
About that I may have had and I had never got.
In the passion whispered in my ear by a man
A man that ardently desired me.
And that I, a fearful teenager, refused.
Now I can not sleep, and my arms are stretched looking for his body.
I open myself, wistful, and I only find empty space.
Nothing can quench my thirst.
Thirst that has grown over the years.
Since I was a child and has now returned to haunt me
Stronger than ever.
His hard and beautiful penis between my fingers
Caressing my cheeks, between my legs, in my mouth.
Asking to enter me, impatiently.
A sad teenager who did not know then what he needed.
Now he knows, but time goes, and that world disappeared forever.
So now I move like automata, desperate.
Because it can never happen and what did not happen then.
Scenes of passion, love and sex, continually parading through my head.
The man and the teenager.
The teenager and the man.
Continually being sought, each other, and knowing that the meeting is no longer
possible, because they live in different universes.
Their minds continually imagining possible encounters.
They dramatize, places, situations, dialogues, and they conjured an impossible
reality.
Both naked, a young man sitting in a chair with his arms around the body of a
teenager, standing between his legs, smiles. Teenager hands on the strong
shoulders. The two erects. A moment frozen, intense desire, promises of pleasure. I
contemplate the imaginary photograph, the two lock eyes. The powerful body of
the man. His big feet,  his big hands touching the skin smooth and soft. At my
fingertips that feeling, and also in the skin of my waist. Because I am both the man
and the teenager, and continually pass from one mind to another, and also of their
bodies, their desires, their fears, their hopes. I look detail at the image, and my gaze
go down slowly from the hair silky to the delicate feet, the warmth of the neck,
back, arms, roundness of the buttocks, long brown legs, and the perfect penis. Oh!
Oh!  Oh!. I entreat that the image will started, and that the hands take possession of
the adolescent body, ahead, behind, above, below. I want to feel the tremor, and as
the body arches to the magic touch, and as his mouth go an irrepressible torrent of
moaning.
I see the tip of the penis of the motionless man, it  begins to shine a drop
engendered by the overwhelming desire. Oh! Oh! Oh! and the same love now
shining pearl on the lips of teenage penis. The picture stops, and the entire
universe also, to enjoy the beauty and unique primary. I the man, I the teenager.

Now go quickly through my head images and more images of the two delivered to
the communion of love. I stop the movie in the kissing scene, and carefully study
the placement of the bodies, arms, hands, legs, penises. The boy's head tilted
upward, slightly askew, arms straight, squeezing his wrists on the strong man's
neck, hands open. A leg of the boy slightly bent trying to break through the
powerful thighs of man. A man hand in adolescent back, keeping the union, the
other touching the velvety skin of his ass. The bright open lips, red tongue tip and
the boy brushing the lips of man. I rub my penis. I'm crazy to see how the bodies
are joined, arch, rub together, and are consumed in the fire of his passion. No, I do
not want to look more, I want it all so stay, pending of an impossible orgasm. I get
up, get dressed, walk down the street aimlessly, trying to think of something else.
But I can not, the images return again and again in droves. I get to hear their
muffled laughter, their contents moans, their breathing. No! no! no! this has to
stop, I can not live like this.
Please, write me if you like this story, your comments encouraged me to continue
writing.  alfredo247@hotmail.com
 You can find more of my stories in: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/frauthors.html