This was the way to experience it for the first time. My eyes were covered, so I could focus on my other senses. I could feel everything. I could feel Beau's mouth on mine, his hot breath as he moved across my face, down to my neck. I could feel his hands holding me down and his body up against mine, our chests touching and only the cotton robes separating us everywhere else. I wanted to pull them off. I wanted to tear off his robe and take control, but he was in charge now.

He moved his mouth to my chest, covering my shoulders with kisses as soft as snowflakes, each one seeming to force my heart to beat faster, harder. I’d given my body over to him and he was a puppeteer in charge of everything I felt and every move I made. When I tilted my head up in an attempt to kiss his forehead, he tapped it back down. It was his turn to kiss me, not the other way around.

It was a new feeling. I’d been in love before, made love before, but this was the first time I’d received love. If I’d been in any other state of mind, I could have compared it to times with Jane, but I wasn't thinking of Jane. I wasn't thinking of anything. I wasn't thinking of life or death or worrying about money or what I was going to do with my life. All those constant worries that constitute the background noise of my thoughts went silent and it was like stepping into a quiet room after walking through the streets of New York. The only thing on my mind was Beau and the way he was making my body feel right now.

His mouth moved to my right arm, lightly biting my bicep, while his hand moved to my other arm, gripping it tightly. I felt him harden through the robe, the wet tip of his penis moving through the cloth and sliding against my leg. A shiver shot through my body. He felt my response and pulled himself away, only slightly, then moaned as he pushed himself forward, slowly so as to tease me, little by little allowing me to feel more of his shaft against my skin.

My hand drifted towards his leg, but Beau wasn't going to allow that. Not yet. He pushed both my arms above my head. Of course I could overpower him, but I didn't want to. He sat up on top of my stomach, where his balls sat against my skin.

"Let's play a game," he said.

A game? I didn't know what to think about that. In the past, sex had always been so serious, so meaningful and full of emotion. It had never been a game.

"What kind of game?" I asked.

"I want you to try to stay as still as possible. I'm going to try to get you to move."

I let the idea sit in my mind for a moment. I had to admit, I kind of liked it.

"Any ground rules?" I asked.

"What are you thinking?"

"No tickling," Jane was surprised to find out just how ticklish I was. She didn't even need to work at it and I'd start giggling.

"That's fair. Tickling is cheating. Besides, teasing is so much more fun."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'll show you," he lifted the blindfold off my face then moved his face close to mine, so close I could bite his lower lip if I wanted to. And I really wanted to.

"Do not move," he said, accenting every word, his breath pushing against my mouth.

I put myself in the mental zone I needed. I could do this. I'd been trained to endure torture and that's what this was, in a sense. Part of military training involved exposing me to different forms of torture, the memories of which I'd since confined to the darkest place in my mind, never to revisit. I could do it, but I didn't like it. That was the nature of torture. I had the skills, though, and they were still there.

He didn't realize who he was dealing with. I was a marine. I could resist anything.

He held his lip there and stayed perfectly still until he moved an ant's length closer to me, just enough for our lower lips to touch. All I had to do was lean my head up the slightest bit and we'd be kissing again. I couldn't, though. I had to focus. I thought of my old drill instructor, Sergeant Kramer. He must have been sixty-five, but tight and wiry, and stern as all hell. He’d yell at us, get in our faces, all while tensing up every muscle in his body acting as if he was only minutes from cardiac arrest. If someone dared smirk, he'd yell back at them, spit flying out of his mouth, screaming, "Something funny to you, private?"

No one dared smile at that.

Any time I needed to focus, get in the zone, I'd just picture the time he got on me, his deafening voice screaming, "I don't see anything funny! You want to tell me what's so funny?" and any smile would vanish from my face.

Except it was difficult for me to focus on Sergeant Kramer when Beau had moved on from my lips. He was heading south, touching his nails to my stomach. The position my head was in, I couldn't see him. I could just feel the slight scratches on my stomach, tracing over my appendectomy scar.

He flipped open my robe and I lay there on the couch, exposed, feeling the cool air move its way over my body. He blew softly against my skin and moved his nails down, through my pubic hair until they reached the base of my cock, which was so hard it was pulsating.

"It's moving," Beau said. "Technically against the rules, but I guess I'll allow it."

He moved the tip of his finger over my shaft, exploring it in a circular motion, as if it was ascending a spiral staircase, making his way to the tip.

"You're good at this game," Beau said. "I'm impressed."

I felt hot air against my dick as Beau released a breath on it. I clenched my fists to keep from moving.

"It's getting harder, isn't it?" he asked. "The game I mean." It wasn't just the game, though. My cock was so hard, I felt like it could rip through my skin. With every one of Beau's breaths, I wanted him to take me in his mouth more and more. I didn't care about the game, I just wanted to be inside him.

He moved his mouth away and brought back his finger, again tracing its way around. Then another finger joined it and, eventually, the whole hand. With his soft touch, he formed a gentle grip around me and began a slow rhythm, moving up and down.

I let out a sigh. I didn't have control over it, it just came out of my mouth.

He stopped, released his hand, and moved back towards my face. "Sounds like I won."

"You didn't say I couldn't make a sound," I said.

"Touché. Game on."

He moved back down to my penis where he continued his slow rocking motion. I was tempted to buck. To thrust into his hand so he could pick up the pace. I bit my bottom lip to stop myself. I heard moaning. I must have heard it for ten whole seconds before I realized I was the one doing it.

He increased his speed. Up, down. Up, down. Flesh on flesh. Intermittent warm breaths. His grip tightened, and my moaning got louder.

I had to force myself to stop moaning so I could take a breath. And that's when he took me in his mouth and I couldn't breathe.

I'd never wanted anything more in my life. And it felt even better than I imagined. My hands shot up to his face and I sat up, so I could watch him.

I'm a competitive person by nature. Nothing is ever just a game when you're a marine. We'd play football back in the service when we were bored around the base or rounds of poker at night. No matter what we played, we played it with everything we had. We always played to win.

And here I'd just lost the game. And I'd never been happier. The consolation prize, if you could even call it that, was the single best blow job I'd ever had, hands down. Beau was an expert with his tongue and wasn't afraid to use his hands. He took me deep in his mouth, getting me all wet, then would take a break and lick me like I was a popsicle. It all felt amazing.

I wanted to come so badly. Except I didn't want it to end. I held on, gripping the side of the couch as he grabbed onto my hips, pushing my body against the cushions, pursing his tight lips around me. It was so intense that if I didn't come soon, I was going to pass out.