Date: Sat, 3 Feb 2001 07:47:27 -0500 From: C. E. Jordan Subject: MY DENNIS 6: A REVERIE Copyright c.e. jordan c.e. jordan@mainandnews.com MY DENNIS 6: A REVERIE Your breath Is fresh spring rain, Scented with Jasmine. * I drink sweet whispers from your mouth ...and the trembling of your chin, Draws me nearer your heart. * Your smile breaks open heaven... It's a small encompassing heat Warmer than any summer, This is our temporary season ...a wild pause, Just before the fall To my winter. ******************** I'm fascinated by Dennis's eyes. Long-lashed, and usually a light translucent brown, the colour shifts and changes over time, subtly marking the different stages of our love-making. Dark and intense at the start, they begin to twinkle mischievously as I'm silently dared to do something to him--'for' him; he's hungry to be touched. Further along our engagement when he begins to lose himself to the cascade of erotic sensations, his body twitches... arms... legs...toes...his fingers clutch me, scratch me, or clench into tight fists. Then, even if I am kissing him, he still moans, passing on the sound of his pleasure as a vibration into me. At this point, his eyes stare, wide open, but his gaze is flat, depthless. I know he isn't really seeing anything; he's focused completely inward--totally concentrated on the rush of pleasure ebbing and flowing throughout various parts of his body. I consider it my main `job' and satisfaction to find the right combination of pressures--touches that would create and extend that good feeling for him. The important thing is to keep it going for as long as possible...taking him to the edge, then pulling him back from the brink until he begins to call my name begging for a final push off that precarious precipice. Some people develop a `fetish' for specific parts of a boy's body; they tend to fixate on feet, or blonde hair and blue eyes. I guess that's okay. Dennis certainly doesn't have blonde hair or blue eyes, but I'd say I have a fetish for this entire boy and each of his very nice parts in relation to his whole person. I tend to adore the particular part I happen to be focused on at the moment. There is the texture of his soft, tightly curled black hair rubbed between my fingers, the indescribable tenderness of his flesh, his soft cheeks; the fascinating way his nipples tighten and transform from almost flat pennies on his chest into little hard cones. The nipples become my obsession and my fetish as I kiss and worry them with my lips and teeth. Dennis moans even more. I don't know for sure, but I think it's remarkable for a boy, or any male to be so exquisitely sensitive there. D also likes me to suck and nibble at the lobe of his ear...the left one usually. He actually puts it against my mouth. This ear, this small nondescript bit of flesh, has now become my temporary fetish. I listen to his ragged breath, his sighs. He's so smooth and slender, not much more than thin arms and long legs. I'm lying on top of him. I'm not at all large, and Dennis is a tough kid--still, I'm always afraid I might crush him. My lips brush lightly along the surface of D's milk-chocolate body following the familiar contours and vague ridges which mark the presence of ribs and sternum just beneath the glabrous flesh. Hard bone protects the softer organs that make this beautiful body function; liver, lung, stomach. I wish I could see right into him. And I think of how complex and unknowable this particular small body is; the unseen heart is beating somewhere inside. When I press my ear against D's chest, I can hear the constant thump, thump, thumping within. Blood circulates through veins and pulse through the invisible capillaries warming his skin which, in turn, heat up my naked body now pressing and pushing against his. But D's finger-tips clawing wildly at my back seem oddly cool. Dennis exhales through his open mouth and his eyes are hooded slits, almost shut, but he watches me steadily as I attend to his body. Unaccountably shy of him, my own eyes slide away from his. Dennis's chest rises and falls with his breathing; at this moment I know he is totally alive as I am, our senses are keen and interconnected. We're so emotionally and physically enmeshed, that the feeling is as if we've become extensions of each other. Is that me calling out? Or is it D? It's difficult to tell, but I don't really care. Lying on his back, D tightens his legs around me, to drive harder. He throws back one arm. Perhaps he is a bit tired. The arm rests languidly on the bright yellow pillow above his head. The fingers twitch. Dennis's armpit is exposed bare and smooth. This unremarkable area on the body of my love is suddenly magnetic. It becomes my new fetish for the moment. I must press my lips into that shallow cave. Surprised that I would go there, D rouses from his erotic daze and laughs. But laughter turns into giggles at the ticklish sensation of my tongue probing into his secret place. When he gets older D will probably develop hairy proof of his adulthood on this spot, and adolescent hormones will intensify the natural odors found here, but right now, he's still a young boy, thirteen, sweet, faultless and passionate. Dennis giggles and wriggles. I stop what I'm doing. "More...," he says. So, we continue on with my exploration of his perfect, tawny brown body. My journey is one of discovery: throat, chin, breast, bellybutton, the delicate inside of his thighs, the pads of flesh just behind the knees, the twinned orbs of his flexing ass. I realize my fetish is for the entire body of my boy. When I take his fingers to my mouth to kiss them one by one, he places four between my lips. I suck them in slowly. The sensation of those slim digits moving around inside me, gently stroking and caressing my tongue, is wet, weird and wonderful. D's fingers taste like nothing in particular, except skin--vaguely salty--just like my boy's young cock when I finally migrate to that heated center of his body. The rigid pole of flesh is in my possession, a few inches from my eyes. It holds us both in thrall. D needs to cum now, I can tell. It's a physical imperative for him. All that we've done together this day has driven us relentlessly toward this point. Love...desire...and undefined primitive urges...all the erotic sensations in D's body have concentrated to flow with his hot blood directly into his distended penis. Dennis's cock throbs in my hands--my stroking, pumping, hands. And occasionally I can feel tiny pulses, like small electric shocks, passing through it. For me, D's proud flesh, is both symbol and substance, love, sex, and lust, all mixed together. Sensations ping pong back and forth and intensify. It's a continuous echoing between the whimpering boy and myself. I suck harder on D's rigid penis, while D's hot lips fall wetly back and forth faster and faster around my own swollen sex. He grasps me tighter and his slender arms enfold me to his body. I return the favour. Thought ceases. And the final act, rough and tender, requires nothing but basic instinct--base animal instinct; clutching, thrusting pressure, growling; our quiet screams signal total triumphant possession. Our mutual explosion is within the searing white light of extinction at the beginning and the end of the world. For a moment, we wink out of existence as individuals, then we are back again, fallen half off the bed, clinging desperately to our senses and one another. I kiss away the tears I see running down Dennis's innocent-looking face and I cuddle him to me until he finally calms down. (To be continued)