Back of necks
Always, always, always, always, always, always,
A pretty rush down my spine
I sat on the bench, reading a Lesbian novel from 1963, enjoying the sun. He was late, or not showing up, but I was happy that he got me out of the house. When he did appear 1/2 a block away, I recognized him, but laughed that I hadn't remembered the bolt in his chin. His cologne reached me before he did, we smiled, he sat down. Some chitchat, and me silently trying to figure out if he was pleased, disappointed, or what. I suggested we go look at dogs; he looked puzzled, so I explained there was a dog run further into the park. That was a good diversion, as we had something to talk about. Then I steered us beyond the dogrun, and he mentioned that he needed to buy some water. At the store on 7th and B, he asked if I wanted anything, but turned down the 5 I tried to hand him. I thought that might be a good sign. When we returned to the park, he used some of his water to wash off some fresh apricots, handing me one. His arm lightly touched my arm on the back of the bench, and then his fingers gently touched my t-shirt at the underarm.
Somehow I had remembered him as a bigger guy, not taller, but bigger. But he was shorter, had slim arms (not unlike my own) but a bit more of a gut than me. His looks were more manicured than I usually go for (like the skinny, closely-cropped "beard"); but up close, with little flaws showing like dry skin, a scar, that sort of thing, it somehow seemed ok. He wore sandals - another no-no in my book - which revealed a toe-ring. But his smile was warm, and his touch tentative as he searched my eyes for encouragement. I'm always fascinated by the things we say we don't like "on paper" that get overlooked when a real person, with other, less tangible qualities, is sitting in front of you, as you move your leg to press against him, giving him that bit of encouragement. After he took off his light jacket to reveal a sleeveless t-shirt, I was disappointed when I detected the signs of deodorant. Well, from what I remembered, he had other parts to lick, so I could handle not venturing there (for today, at least). Finally I said "Wanna see my messy apartment?" (always ready with a good line, aren't I?) and I stood up. As he smiled his assent, I realized it would be the perfect moment for pic-taking - him below me on the bench, sunlight on his smiling face, flowers, trees, and green lawn behind him. But I also knew it could spoil the moment, and I decided against asking. We walked the few blocks to my apartment.
Once inside I steared him past the kitchen and into the bedroom, taking off my shoes, and him following my lead. He pulled me onto him onto the bed, and we had our first of many kisses. We were in bed for nearly 2 hours, no music, just the muffled sounds of the outside world coming into the apartment with the breeze, licking and tugging and carressing. His hands were wonderful, I must say, and I enjoyed giving his body light kisses everywhere. The old bite-dontbite-bite nibbling on the ear seemed to be working very well, and soon he ripped off his pants and shirt. A red speedo! That was a surprise, but it gave me the chance to nibble and lick around its edges, probing my tongue the inch or two it could reach inside without actually moving the elastic cloth. And we both seemed to be in the same frame of mind - alternating mouth-kissing with body-kissing, no rush to get to the sexparts, but still teasing them enough to keep them aroused.
It was after working up quite a sweat, that I prclaimed I just couldn't wait anymore, standing over him, watching myself spooging all over, seemingly-reckless splattering, but I was careful to only get his neck, his chest, stomach and a few more drops below. Then I collpased, and he clung close to me, as we quietly chuckled, stoking each other's bodies. The hugging and kissing and snuggling was probably the best part - no quick dressing or cleaning up. Yes, he did mention that he ought to go, and let me get ready for work; but he only held me closer, as we let the breeze sweep over our bodies. This is when I asked for the picture. I prefaced it by saying how much I love the little patch of hair on the back of his neck (actually just below the neck), and he turned over to give me a better view of his entire backside. I kissed the spot gently, letting the rest of my body hover teasingly over his, then slowly descending, nibbling at his ear and asking: "Can I take a picture of the back of your neck?"
After work, I did my usual - some food, some email reading, some web-surfing and TV. Then I grabbed my book (A World Without Men ), and cuddled up in the bed. Snuggling up with the pillows, and pulling the comforter up close, I could smell the faint aroma of him, the man who was here just a few hours ago.