Date: Sat, 28 Sep 2002 05:13:13 -0600
From: sword_and_pen@hotmail.com
Subject: Kissing Destiny  -  Chapter 1 -  The Way He Kissed Me

Kissing Destiny
Chapter 1
The Way He Kissed Me

I once heard, that certain Taoists beliefs centered on the idea that the
more sex one had, the longer they'd live. It was something about, how sex
harnessed chi, or the life breath as I'm pretty sure it translates to.
Anyway, I don't know if it is true, but if so...I've got immortality on the
way.

You look for a way to start a story, some people start with a quote,
something someone else said that seems to summarize the whole tale. I'm not
particularly fond of that method, I don't see what the point of telling a
story is if you sum it up at the beginning.

Anyway, I've always been nervous about telling stories, I never saw myself
as a good storyteller. I was the kid who sat away from the campfire and
shivered at each scary tale, I didn't participate in the telling of them.

But there isn't anything to fear in this story, unless you fear the Fates
themselves. It's funny to me, Jonathan used to always talk about the Fates.
I thought he was just too much into D&D and online fantasy games. It wasn't
until recently that I actually came about and took a little faith in the
things that control our destiny. I wonder now, if the Fates are a part of
Destiny himself, or just 'hired hands'. Whatever it is, Jonathan thought he
had it figured out. He'd talk about it in bed, right when I was going down
on him, he'd just start talking about Destiny. He was an avid fan of Neil
Gaiman, read all the Sandman books and was obsessed with the concept of the
Endless. Especially the dreaded Destiny, from whom there was never escape.
Jonathan was fascinated with Destiny the way I was fascinated with Madonna
in the '80's.

But I loved him...God how I loved him. No one could make me laugh like
Jonathan could, no one could catch the little genuine quirks of amusement
that would suddenly flare onto my lips when he'd tickle my sides, just above
my hips. We'd lie naked in bed, and before I knew it, he'd be on top of me,
tickling me and forcing me to laugh and writhe wildly to get him off. And
he, always being the Butch of the relationship, always managed to pin me
down. He be chuckling still, a large grin on his lips as he stared down in
my eyes. I'd be breathing heavily from my efforts, my almost sickly bony
chest heaving from my efforts, exhausted to no avail. Then, he'd always
managed to surprise me when he kissed me. It always caught me off guard, and
I always found my eyebrows quirking up just slightly as he did so. Jonathan
was a strong guy, but when he kissed me, I forgot that he was ever the rugby
star that he was. His kisses were soft, tender, almost methodical. First his
lower lip pressing against mine, flicking against my upper lip, then dipping
down to part my lips as his tongue dashed out to lick my teeth and retreat
before I could respond. He liked the control, liked to tease me. I remember,
I remember this one night, his mouth tasted like mangos and it made me
hungry. My kiss was aggressive when I returned it, my tongue rushing his
mouth to consume as much of the sweet exotic tastes as possible. He had
caught my tongue, and I was forced to surrender to his soft sucking on my
euphoric taste buds. My eyes fell closed dreamily and envisioned the
fireworks exploding all around us. Jonathan had that way about him, that way
of making ever kiss better than the last.

He'd get me beat red by the time he was done, but he was never done. The
kiss was just the beginning, just foreplay in the grander scale of our
intimacy. He'd kiss my chin and smile, then his rough lips would traverse
over my Adam's Apple, and trace my clavicle, then he'd kiss between my sadly
underdeveloped pecks. He'd kiss along my anorexic stomach, down further with
a sick sort of patience to it. He was deliberately, excruciatingly slow,
making me groan and plea. It was such a game to him. He'd get down to my
cock, a hard rock of desire begging for him to stop teasing it. But, as I
said before, Jonathan was methodical. He'd start by licking up from my
balls, all the way to the tip, very slowly and only the very tip of his
tongue ever touching. Then his hand would begin to stroke upwards slowly,
then downwards as his tongue swirled around its head, admiring my wanton
tastes. He'd hear me sigh and grin, stroking up along my shaft again, then
down and he'd slip the head into his mouth, licking it and sucking lightly.
He always made me thought he was diving in, ready to just devour me and all
my pleasures. But his mouth would release the tip of my shaft always so
suddenly, and his hand would stroke back upwards, then down and he'd engulf
me a little deeper into his mouth. He'd let the hot moist atmosphere of his
mouth roll over my cock like a warm mist passing just after September rains.
Damn him for his perfection, for the way he gave head, for being so
wonderful. Because it only got more exciting, when his mouth would began to
work in rhythm up and down my long thin shaft. He'd rock ever so slightly
with each moment, and I don't know what it was about that, but it sent shock
waves through me. I'd tremble under his sensual musings, and always I'd get
short of breath. And whether or not it was exceptionally "queenie" I always
muttered his name between gasps, always something like, "Oh
God...Jonathan..."

I was Cher in the partnership. And he loved my vulnerable femininity, as
much as I loved his manliness. He was James Bond with a surfer's tan and
pale blue eyes to make the heaven's cry. His jet stream black hair always
carefully placed in neat messy spikes. He had a football player's body, not
too beefy, but with well rounded assortment of muscle. He was my Greek god,
and I cherished him.

Funny thing about Destiny, it's convenient when stars are crossing, but no
one wants to call it Destiny when you see its Dark Side...But I still
haven't forgotten the way Jonathan kissed...

To Be Continued...